Looking into the Eyes of Someone You Love


Your heart rate picks up. Your eyes dilate. You stop thinking. They are talking, you’re trying to focus, but your world just blurs around you. Your thoughts go wild, blocking out the surrounding noises. You just stare at their soul, the different colors that uniquely blend, the way their eyes smile when they do. You can’t help but think of how lucky you are. They stop talking and giggle while you are just smiling like an idiot. The way they make you shyly look away from them, then look back up just to get stuck in your world again. Stuttering when you realized they asked a question. You have no idea what their joke was, but when they throw their head back laughing you can’t help but grin and just be glad they are happy. Talking normally and then suddenly you find yourself staring at their lips while biting yours, then shaking the thoughts away. They go to check their phone and while they are focusing on the screen, you have time to just take in the details of their face. When they blink, move their fingers across their face, seeing the corners of their mouth rise into a small smile. Details that make you fall in love with them even more.

-Karly Emmert

 

 

Life

Life can be long

Life can be short

Life can be good or bad

Life can knock you down as easily as it brings you up

 

there are many paths in Life

and Life gives you the ability to choose which one you take

and before you know it, Life is gone

it is up to you to choose the best path in Life for you

to make your it the best you can

-Vincent Fiorella

I’m From Myself

I’m from East Pete, then Lititz, and now Lancaster.

I’m from having eight different siblings whether they’re step-siblings or not.

I’m from having a niece and nephew, with another baby on the way.

I’m from having dry paint all over my hands.

I’m from late summer night Mocha Frappe runs, to early winter nights.

I’m from “Don’t make me give you squeakers!” — but you’re no longer here.

I’m from Sunday morning breakfast dates with my mom.

I’m from Alexxis, my best friend, trying to forcefully mother me.

I’m from “Wake up, Doodlebug. It’s six.”

I’m from every single All Time Low song blasting through my phone.

I’m from every single Jamie McGuire book imprinted in my mind.

I’m from a “Great Perhaps.”

-Erin

From Kid to Teenager

I am from the quiet neighborhood of where I live in Lancaster County.

I am from the elementary school of Hambright Elementary.

I am from the house where I grew up.

I am from the imagination which I made so fun.

I am from the land of the toys that put a smile on my face.

 

I am from the park where I loved to play.

I am from Manor Middle School.

I am from the rocket that was my first launch.

I am from the team who made it to the national rocket finals.

I am from the team that finished 30th in the United States.

I am from the phone which was a present to me in the 8th grade.

 

I am from being the youngest in the family.

I am from the board games that I loved to play.

I am from the technology world which I grew up in.

I am from the video games that keep me busy when I’m bored.

I am from the Church which I grew up around.

I am from Penn Manor High School where I will graduate in the year of 2017.

 

I am from kid to teenager.


I am Christopher Knight.

Panic! At The Disco and Fall Out Boy: A story from songs

This is gospel for the fallen ones. Even when it is nine in the afternoon. They say to themselves “show me your love, show me your love before the world catches us, there’s always room for second guesses, but I don’t want to know.” They believe in casual affairs, even if it is only for the night.  A lover on one side and a sinner on the other. After the night they see things from a whole new perspective. Alls they want is to be alone together because it is irresistible.  “I’m ready to go” one women says.  A man replies “You’re such a pretty women to be running from anyone at such a time like this.”  “It’s better to burn than to to fade away, and it’s better to leave than to be replaced.” was her reply.

 

A song came on that meant something to her. “Favorite Record” by Fall Out Boy. She sang along “…and you can get what you want, but it’s never enough…and I’ll spin for you like your favorite records use to.”


She realized what she was running from.  She was not running from anyone, but herself.  Hearing her favorite song triggered something in her mind.  She thought she was going crazy, but then her life flashed before her eyes.  Instantaneously she decided she was not ready to go.  Instead she went to get help from Miss. Jackson.

-Neve Consylman

From Buck to Buddy

I’m from riding combine at Groffs to swervin’ Mervins, just down the road.

I’m from the Buck to the river bridge to York.

I’m from the tractor pull to Solanco fair.

I’m from the Amish country to Douligans to fix the truck.

I’m from Butler County quiet to Lancaster scenic.

I’m from a wave of the hand for even the strangers to chatter at the shop.

I’m from bucking bales at Dan’s to tomatoes in the hollow.

I’m from roast beef Sunday to turkey on Thursday, always with potatoes.

I’m from dairy farms to Risser Grain, all season long.

I’m from big rig racing on I-95 to high power tractors in Drumore

I’m from the German and the Swiss for the whole family.

I’m from playing with Buddy to hiking in the woods.

I’m from the smell of Holstein manure to fresh cut alfalfa.

I’m from the putt-putt in the morning to diesels at night.

I’m from plowing the garden to canning beans.

I’m from Jay, Joe and David, always arguing, but still friends.

-Wesley Herr

The Whereabouts I’m From

I’m from the township called Conestoga.

I’m from the birthplace of the Conestoga Wagon.

I’m from the place where silver was mined, from Silvermines.

I’m from the road called Sandhill.

I’m from the land of the weekend bonfires and late night catfishing.

I’m from the place where big bucks run.

I’m from the place where the hunting is fun.

I’m from the place where car shows rock.

I’m from the town where everyone is like family.

I’m from the little town of Conestoga.

These Scars

I walk through the halls

Where someone sneaks a peak

I wonder what they think

Perhaps a bit of pity

Do they know what happened

Or do they walk away and wonder?

Sunday at church

I bow my head and pray

I open up my eyes

Take a second or two

I look at these scars

And in an instant im lost in thought

For these scars are battlepaint

Preparing me for life

These scars hold lessons

Which will stick with me forever

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Feelings and Soda

“Just be yourself”

They say

“Just do what you feel is right, it’ll be easy.”

What if you don’t know how to feel?

You have no feelings anymore.

Society tells you how to feel,

your peers say “Don’t do that!”

My mom tells me to just do me.

“You’ll be fine”, “It will get better”, etc.

All these feelings in one head,

bottled up in one bottle.

Shaken around by all the different people and opinions,

Starting to fizz a little and not knowing what to do

Leave it alone for awhile, it will start settling down,

but if you open it up,

it will explode, the soda will be everywhere.

Just like the feelings in my head, they’re just everywhere.

-S.A.S

 

My Childhood in a Poem

I’m from loud New York City to laid back Lancaster County

I’m from having dress up and tea parties with my little brother who I made do anything with me

I’m from warm vanilla candles burning throughout the house and fuzzy blankets wrapped around me like a cocoon

I’m from crazy bicycle rides and burning scrapes on my knees with white gauze wraps

I’m from groups of friends being just boys and playing football in the backyard

I’m from creating dances with my friends and performing a show in front of everyone

I’m from being daddy’s little girl and mommy’s little helper

I’m from two happily married parents who always taught me what it’s like to be crazy in love with someone

I’m from the fresh smell of bait in the tackle box and the salty sea air

I’m from the last years when technology was never introduced and I actually had a childhood

-K.V

Prologue- Not Like me

“..And this is where you’ll be living for the next few years.” The old lady, whose name I did not know, said as she handed me a pair of pajamas that everyone else had been wearing since they moved here. She pointed down the hallway, guiding me to where the room was. We all had to share rooms with each other. Well, the younger kids did. I was a bit on the older side being at the age of 16, so I didn’t have to share a room with anyone, thankfully. I was always shy with strangers so I thought it best to have a room all to myself. I muttered a quiet ‘thank you,’ to the lady who handed me a key to my room as I took it out of her hands and slowly dragged myself down the hallway.

 

I unlocked the room and knocked twice out of habit. After two seconds of silence, I opened the door about an inch and peeked inside. The room was empty.

 

I walked inside and sat the pajamas that were handed to me earlier on the bed that was made neatly. I sat the only bag that I had brought down on the floor right next to the bed. All that was in it was a few outfits, my favorite book (which I had read many, many times), and a few miscellaneous items.

 

I sat on the bed and looked at the clock. From far away, it looked normal and fine.. but up close, you could see how if there was even a slight shake in the structure of the building, the clock could fall at any second and shatter from the impact. If I shuffled too fast, the legs of the bed could crack in half and break from underneath me.

 

To be honest, I was horrified. Not of any pain or anything breaking, just in general. Horrified of life; horrified of being in this home.

 

It’s already six in the evening. This is when they serve dinner. I wasn’t really hungry though; the anxiety was eating my stomach from the inside out. I laid my suitcase flat on the ground and unzipped the sides before I was able to gaze among the insides. I sighed looking at a few of the family pictures I had packed.

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Who Am I Today

“An event that has influenced my life and made me who I am today is art. The first time I picked up that pencil and started drawing, I knew I was and what I would be in the future. Ary is my life, art is what I live for. It brings peace to the mind and creativity to the soul.

Art makes me happy and frees me from my mind.”

-S.M

Road Not Taken

Before me stands a small girl looking around the age of five. Her face is wet and swollen from the tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. I know she has done nothing wrong yet those around be differ. By those around around me, I mean father. I can relate to my sister’s predicament far too well. The room reeked of the smell of alcohol. There were shards of glass sprayed across the floor authenticating that this is, in fact, reality. My instincts to run up to her and save her tremble when my father turns his eyes to me. I lower my eyes to the stained floor boards. I hear the soft sniffling coming from my younger sister. Then a strange bubbling feeling grows inside of me, but I know it’s not fear. I cannot witness him harm me nor my sister any longer than it already has. With new found determination I straighten my back and shoot my eyes upward. I stare intently into my father’s bloodshot eyes.

“No,” I whisper. The eyes staring back at me sharpen and look at me with the intensity of an eagle soaring over the treetops. I will not let him be the eagle.

“What did you just say?” He snarls with no trace of sympathy; or any feeling if that. It was as if he was possessed by some unhumanly force.

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Home

Home is where your heart is?
Well my heart is in my ‘effing’ ribcage
And let me tell you it’s quite lonely
Since there’s nobody else around
I’ve got my lungs
But all they do is expand and contract
Temporarily filling empty space
And my eyes have been dry
But my heart never stopped bleeding
Home is a nonexistent thing.

-AMP

Happiness

Happiness is coming home from a long day and spending the rest with family.

Happiness is singing at the top of your lungs in the car heading somewhere.

Happiness is seeing people you love after a long separation.

Happiness is a kitten purring on your lap refusing to get up.

Happiness is the enormous smile across your face when you accomplish something.

Happiness is having everything organized and feeling on top of the world.

Happiness is dancing in the kitchen on a Sunday morning before church.

Happiness is cooking dinner with mom and laughing when something goes wrong.

Happiness is friends who understand you and accept it.

Happiness is playing a sport and feeling complete passion for it.

Happiness is trying things for the first time at that lucky age of sixteen.

Happiness is crying tears of joy congratulating and feeling proud of a friend.

Happiness is getting an A on the test that seemed impossible to study for.

Happiness is licking an ice cream cone on a beautiful summer afternoon.

Happiness is watching your favorite tv show and cuddling up with a dozen pillows.

Happiness is making others happy and fulfilling it even when there is limits.

-Meghan Onderdonk

Society is a Bitch

We all start the same

These small beings non being greater than the other

Born into different lives

Some luxurious others never knowing what its like to sleep on a bed

Yet being new to the world we know not of this

Getting older we make friends not caring nor knowing of social standings

Gradually through life, without even knowing, we get placed in social groups

We’re not just those little kids, we’re categorized beings

“Popular” ”Nerds” “Nobodies”

We start forgetting that people are still people

That no matter what you like or what your interests are

You’re still someone

We think that just because someones interests are different than ours

That we’re greater or lesser than that person

We forget that we were once young and none of those things mattered

And don’t ask ourselves why they matter now

Or how we let ourselves become these people

Why can’t everyone be equal and treated the same

Instead we let society pick who we are

 

Macie Cummings

What Anxiety Feels Like

They try to tell me ‘explain how you feel’

But all I can say is I really can’t deal.

I act like everything is fine and alright

But in reality, my feelings are out of sight.

 

I say it’s like drowning and breathing,

All at the same time.

It seems like I can’t stop bleeding,

This is just a victimless crime.

How can something be so unnoticed,

When it has people feeling broken and hopeless.

I guess everybody’s just losing focus.

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