Month: January 2016

A Little Chunk of Wisdom

By Camille Sauers

Ah young self, specifically adolescent self, the self that fostered a vibrant face rash and once ate too much of the wrong sort of chicken at the  Medieval Times near Mall of America. You have pimples, blue rubber-banded braces, and your hair is bad because you brush it too much during the hours you spend in front of the mirror before soccer practice, examining your body that in comparison to the twigs that are your  teammates make you a mammoth, a sunburned mammoth, but a mammoth none the same. You adjust and readjust your headband, hoping to become god damn extinct already.

So here you are in the lobby of the Holiday Inn, it’s your 8th grade class trip, and having  contracted food poisoning from a place where people wear crowns like business suits, you (more…)

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[don’t let them tell you]

poetic slam written by cassidy cole

i remember the first time you wrote a poem, and maybe you didn’t really know it was a

poem, but you tried really hard, I know you did.

 

somehow that poem about a pumpkin turned into something about imagination and its

constant changing colors,

 

but you were so proud

and your mom put it on the fridge 

and thats when you told yourself you were going to be a poet.

 

i’m going to tell you one thing, (more…)

Meet Cassidy Cole

cassidy c (c)zoeknightMeet Cassidy, Cassidy Cole. She’s a writer who glued glow-in-the-dark stars above her bed when she was four.

What’s your favorite genre to write? She writes words that are strung into sentences, sentences that are packed into paragraphs, and on and on and on, you see.

What’s your idea of perfect happiness? She fantasizes about lost adventures, tickled toes, treehouse afternoons, cold tea, and swings.

What trait to you most value in yourself? She is raw, authentic-like, and it’s beautiful.

What trait to you most value in other writers? She loves when others are too, especially with open eyes.

What do you do when you’re not putting words on the page?  She lives through spontaneity, through empty dance floors, rainy nights, and endless expeditions, examinations, explorations.

Which author(s) do you most admire? Everyone who writes words, beautiful ones, simple ones…

Which words or phrases do you most overuse? The word twinkle

Favorite word? … Twinkle

Least favorite word? Tinkle

When did you first identify yourself as a writer? When she wrote a poem about a pumpkin who changed colors with the biggest imagination.

Why are you actively involved in Lighthouse Writers Workshop? I needed a lighthouse in all the rough waves.

What is your motto? Never loose your sparkle and your salubrity while you sip on the sunflowers.

Not the End

By Caity Henderson

 

The beginning of the end

Everyone knows the sound from the hospital show when heartbeat peaks end and there is only a glowing green line. Funny that it happens like this just as she crosses over from one side to the other. The living to the dead. The end to the beginning.

And yet this is no TV drama. She is smiling though she does not breathe. I pretend to see a bead of light escape her lips. I have watched her spirit seep out of her for weeks now in (more…)

Pages

[MATURE]

By Madeleine Dodge

 

“Tell me about your first time.”

They were sitting on his bed listening to some band she’d never heard but pretended to like, and his hands were in her hair. She continued to flip through an old copy of National Geographic while he waited for her to reply. When a minute had gone by and she hadn’t said a word, he stopped winding tendrils of her hair around his nimble fingers.

“Did you hear me?”

“Mmhm.” Living on smooth pages, honey bees gathered in families of thousands, flowing amber sticking to hexagonal homes. The remnants of Apollo 13, dull and heavy, tumbled through space in forgotten memory. The skeleton of a new species of homo sapiens stared gloomily through empty eye sockets. She kept flipping. (more…)

Fever

By Camille Sauers

It’s the armpit of winter. 9 o’clock at night.

An orange football thermometer mocks me with a reading of 34 degrees, as I shiver in plastic gloves, black jeans and a baseball cap, fishing rogue “mile high wieners” out from underneath a rusting, mobile rotisserie.

To distract myself from the drunken Bronco’s fans whooping and cursing outside, I imagine that I am a benevolent sea captain, rescuing down on their luck Titanic passengers from treading an icy grave. (more…)

I Feel Things In My Throat

By Aiyana Spear

A long time ago we had a conversation about beginnings and endings and all

the in-betweens. It was one of those 1 AM talks we used to have over text. Those

times when it felt like we were the only people awake in the world, those times

when I felt like I could tell you anything and everything, everything would be

okay. Well that’s what they felt like for me I don’t know about you. I doubt you

remember this one much, it was just one of many, but it was an important one for

me. Your insights made much more sense than mine; you’re too smart for your

age you know. Well, I guess we both are, but I am more mathematical than

profound. We talked about how beginnings and endings are not and never will be (more…)