April | 2023

April | 2023

April | 2023

April | 2023

April | 2023

April | 2023

April | 2023

April | 2023

Kathryn Leavengood

Colorful Mug

Need You

By Liam Palumbo

What Lies Beyond?

By Ella Green

If I were a giant

With the earth as my bed,

I would lean back into the soft, green mattress,

My body sinking into the soft, dense soil

And I would reach my hand up

And touch the calm waters of the sky,

The touch of my fingertip

Creating a wrinkle in the void of universe and time,

And I wonder,

What lies beyond—

Beyond all this restraint of time, this life, this world?

What lies beyond?

I know that there is Heaven, beautiful Heaven,

Waiting for me,

But what is it that takes you there after you die?

Is it the Hand of God that lifts you up

And brings you Home with Him?

Maybe one day, I will be sucked into the expanse of the sky,

Spinning and sliding

Down the whirlpool of blue,

Then, I will be spat out into space,

And left there,




My body feeling weightless and hollow, 

Everything around me black and silent,

Extended within the ripple, the glitch of a hiccup

In the universe.

Is this really what lies beyond?

I guess there is truly no way of knowing,

Of fully understanding,

Of comprehending,

What lies outside,

What rests beyond,

The blue dawn of the sky.

Webbed by Jayla McNeill

Distance and Time.

By Sophia Taylor

I want to make this dramatic

Like I’m pouring my heart and soul

Into a jar

To seal forever.

But it’s not.

This feeling, I mean.

It’s not heart wrenching and life changing,

It’s new and unsure.

I’m balancing on a rope wondering

If you hold the other end.

I’m imagining the way you will greet me

When, if, the rope holds

And your face fills me with warmth that

I’ve never experienced before.

Oh, what if the rope is already falling

And I can’t see it.

Is my reality twisted and flipped?

Do I just see life how I want?

So really,

Instead of the rope being stretched taut

By you, 

Waiting for me,

It’s being pulled by gravity alongside my falling body

Plummeting towards a depth of, 

Shattered dreams.

You were never there to grab my hand

Or catch me

Or love me.

Or protect me from the shards of disappointment.

You were just a shadow erased by the night,

A shadow I hopelessly clung to.

Maybe when I see you next,

You’ll smile

And I’ll smile

And my heart will be full.


By Madelynn Borey

I Keep— Your Cruelty

By Cadie Weldon

Me— wrapped in you 

You— wrapped in me 

My dearest of dear

Like two braids of a thread 

A sandy lock 

Bends to escape 

The bow of my ear 

And leans to kiss your forehead 

But now, now where do I store all my sorrow?

By the bitterness burning within me 

like pine and gasoline? 

Or by blazing hills and places borrowed

Where you choke on all the lies 

you told at 16 

Would it fit into a memory? 

A look or a touch? 

Or could I store it in a bottle 

And not think of it too much...

Could I dice it into portions? 

A fourth or a fifth? 

Or could I place it with you—

The only scar I’d ever die with. 

I keep your love around my neck

It was never accidental, but always wasted.

I keep it with everything ours.

I keep it with roses and laughter and

paper maché flowers.

I keep it with music and red lights and a smile from a friend.

I keep it with a bloodstained red notebook

A sparrow on the front, your name at the end

I keep, I keep, I keep

Your lies, your lies, your lies 

I keep the ones big, I keep the ones small

In hopes that one day

I can forgive your cruelty, 

But I know I’ll never forgive it all.

8 Ball by Jayla McNeill

Song of the World

By Ella Green

Listen and feel

The beautiful song of the world

That plays all around you each day of your life.


The tune of the sun,

The melody of the moon,

The hum of the stars,

The chorus of clouds

Flow above you.


The music of mountains,

The vibrating vibrato of valleys,

The mighty claps of thunder,

The rhythm of rocks and rain,

The drumming of dams,

The poundings of plains,

The beat of buzzing bugs,

The soothing strumming of the sea,

The falsetto of the forest,

The plucking of the vine's strings,

The dissonance of yellow springtime Daffodils against the winter’s dead browns,

And the tone of trees leaves, batting against the breeze,

Making the earth tremble beneath your feet.

Listen intently

To the melancholy, stretched notes of Night Owls,

The riffs and runs of the wind and wolves wild, wailing howls,

And breathe deeply the artistic amphitheater anthem of air,

Fresh, wonderful air,

Filled with abundant honey-scented flowers.

The song of the world never stops playing.

It will continue on until the earth’s end,

But the song will change to a joyful throng of people praising when Jesus returns

And everything is made new again!

Time, Precious Time 

By Ella Green

Time slips away,

The hands of the clock tick away,

Each day passes so quickly,

Life moves so swiftly.

What will you do with the time you have?

What do you choose to pour your soul into,

To pursue and do?

Each breath of air you breathe is aliveness,

Rushing through your body,

Each second that your eyes are open, 

You have the gift of seeing so much or so little,

Gazing at the grace and beauty of the world you live in.

Is your magnificent mind

Ever suddenly struck with the epiphany 

Of the fact that you are living, and living freely in the majesty

Of the world?

Life is wonderful and ephemeral,

Shining bright as a pearl soaked in the moonlight.

What is the first thought that comes into your head

As you first wake up and dip your toes in the pristine water of a pure, new day to live?

Everyone on earth

Wakes up

And goes to sleep

At the dawn of bright morning,

The light of the sun makes its bold appearance as it creeps into your room,

Where the moon hides its pale, porous face,

And the dusk of dark night,

The yellow sleepy sun sliding into the blankets of the sky,

Where the moon’s fabulous face

Emerges from its hiding place,

And pours out its glowing waters,

Flooding the earth with lovely light.

What do you do in the hours in between

Where there is no waking or sleeping?

A Fork in the Woods

By Talitha Lubben

I once met a fox in a fork in the road,

His eyes a stunning green,

He came to me,

“Follow me” he whispered.

“Follow me” he said,

“Follow me into the depths of the woods,

We will hunt and play in the sun,

Run in the grass till we’ve lost all breath,

When day is done we will fall asleep in a meadow with the full moon smiling down at us,

And  the wolves will sing us a lullaby.

We will live and die with no regrets, 

For we could not have known a moment better.”

I looked down at the fox,

His eyes a nostalgic green,

And say to him,

“I can not, my life is not so small,”

At that, he turns from me,

And runs,

Deep into the orange wood,

All I can do is cry.

Bolt Up by Kathryn Leavengood


By Emma Palumbo

Jesus loves me, this I know, 

but this I still protest:

terrified he knows the good

but also knows the rest.

Horrified that he has seen

the sewage of my heart:

the thoughts I dared to think 

when it was not him that I sought.

God, I think I’ll always fight this,

your unending love for me.

It can’t be fair to care for sinners

quite this faithfully.

You listen to my protests

and you take me by the hand

and you say you have a plan for me

I don’t yet understand.

You smile as I list my wrongs 

with half a mind to run,

begging you, “Take back your mercy!

I’m ashamed of what I’ve done!”

I know I can’t repay you, 

I can’t stand to be in debt.

But you knew I couldn’t do it -

that’s why you handled it.

Jesus loves me, this I know,

and it’s this I understand:

despite the broken shards left from my

creation, He still takes me as I am.

He melts the pieces of my heart of stone

and fashions me one of flesh.

He smooths down these jagged edges

and offers me His righteousness.


By Sophia Riley

Oh beautiful songs

and lights above like the stars when we sing. 

And you are singing! Don’t ever stop, laddie. 

Oh sing, for whoever’s heart you catch. 

My heart has fluttered above your head many a time. 

Perhaps it will land there one day. 

If you catch it. 

How glad I am I went tonight

for it is strange to see us all sitting there

with our lives ahead of us

yet being lived. 

“When you grow up.” 

For what I say?

Growing up from living? 

No way! 

Oh please just sing. 

I shall never grow tired of watching you sing 

or smile at your own dear family

loving life’s little things. 

I shall never stop smiling about you. 

I can’t wait to meet you someday. 

If not here, 

up there I shall talk to everybody. 

Beauty of the Night

By Ezra Harris

As the sun goes down

The stars come out

The beauty in the sky

It comes out at night

You can smell the wind in the air

On nights like these it seems like life turned out awfully fair

As the constellations fill the sky

I feel like I’m floating on up high

But you’ll pull me down and tell me I’ll be fine down here with you

We sit and wait for the sky to turn blue

no, thank you

By Whitman Halverson

Am I to be Ophelia?

Some ragged memorabilia?
Some cheap thrill ridden,


desperate way to heal ya?

Are you to be my Hamlet?

The heroic way to damn it?

But lacking gall

you just appall,

I simply cannot stand it.


By Adalynn Wykoff

unity forgotten

one nation betrayed

our history was lost

in the battles we made

one time we believed

that we had won

but then we fell under

a crisp september sun

so what is freedom?

for what do we fight?

do we lay our lives down

for our country, our rights?

"indivisible," they wrote

and it had been true

one for all, all for one

for the red, white, and blue

we wanted this truth

to be reality

our freedom, our rights?

prove our mortality

we fought, bled, and died

our strongest we gave

for the home of the free

and the land of the brave

who made me like this?

By Whitman Halverson

What compels us to make art from pain?

To milk out gain?

instead of tears in rain i paint my pain and gain my fame through games who’ve slain my wretched name. 

And my ugly insides writhe from praise

From a haze of thoughtless praise which razes abrasion and prays on salvation, 

You patch my cut with gratitude, 

With thought for food and thankful mood which breeds a doom of brood, a gloom of rue, an insightful room of attitude. 

Just say it isn’t pretty, please.

April | 2024
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