Williston Publishimg - Index

Williston Publishimg - Teen Vermont - Index

I eyed a new guitar with apprehension
Of my will to play, I wasn’t sure.
Learning wold take divine intervention
But I learned to play for her.
Teaching myself nearly drove me insane,
But her smile drove me on.
And the notes began to fall like rain,
From my stiff fi ngers fl owed a song.
Were music enough to make her stay
I wouldn’t have feared being alone
But all I played could not stop the day
That I found myself on my own
For a while, at least, she left a scar
But because of her, I can play the guitar
— Angus Dickerson, age 16, Huntington
26 — Teen Vermont, Spring/Summer 2008
Large live oak.
On the fl oor for hundreds of years.
Lot of texture.
Weirdly shaped.
Still attached to original tree.
Ancient wisdom might be historical.
Who knows what has been on it.
Branches all over.
Tree around 1400 years of age.
On the Carolina coast.
Tons of tree trunks.
King Arthur and Muhammad were afoot.
— Marcel Etienne
BLACK & WHITE
Amongst us
This world is black & white.
No I’m not color blind,
Just taking the ride of
youth.
Feels like a roller coaster:
Pulling left
Tugging right
Trying to keep and open
mind,
This world is moving in.
The Storm
After the storm
I try to keep warm.
I quicken my pace,
I shield my face
From stinging winds
Like knives and pins
Torturing me
Mercilessly.
I hear the knocking,
I feel the stomping.
So scared of becoming
Old
I’m so good at being
Young
The road shines like her
Lips after a fresh layer
Of gloss, applied with a smack
And an attitude. Take that.
Clinging to the trees, the snow
Screams, “I’ll never let go!”
They all look like oddly-shaped
Frosted cookies or a cake.
And on the ground
A smooth layer spread all around
That sparkles like stars in the night
When refl ected in the right light.
It’s a white sea,
Motionless, no fi sh, only
Salt crystals
And angels.
Not knowing what to expect
Astray from reality
Only to fi nd myself,
Miss-understood.
— Olivia Bouffard
— Liana Johnson, age 18, Richmond