CAROLINA FRIENDS SCHOOL

Creative Thoughts from Middle School Minds

Are you ready for an exciting year? The digital lit mag includes poems,

photography, art, and more!

The Digital Lit Mag

2011-12

Lit mag staff: Hadiyah Omar, Henry Spuria, James DePolo, Kaydi Zembow, Shafe Selvidge, Tyler French, Victoria Cruell, Zoe Scretchings.

9/11On that one fateful

day, Al Qaeda terrorists went out to hijack 4 planes. One of them hit the

North tower. People were crying and screaming, not

knowing what to do. Soon after, the South tower had been hit. Another plane hit the the

Pentagon. The fourth plane was

also going to Washington, D.C.

Some people believe they were

heading for the White House or the

Capitol Building. The passengers

found out what was happening, and

they managed to overthrow the hijackers and

crash the plane into a field in

Pennsylvania. Both towers fell, but only 16 people

survived. Many people that day

risked their lives and died heroes.

9/11 Never Forgotten

Zoe  Scretchings

September  12,  2001

Tuesday,  September  11,  2001

A  gorgeous  day  with  blue  skies  and  a  bright  sun

In  New  York  people  were  walking  with  smiles  lit

Soon  before  the  North  Tower  would  be  hit

BOOM!  People  were  running  all  over  the  place

It’s  no  Ime  for  rhyming,  let’s  cut  to  the  chase

Confusion,  fright,  emoIons  were  running  wild

Fireman  were  sent  out  to  help  people  in  need

BOOM!  The  South  Tower’s  been  hit!

The  firemen  got  busy,  they  put  the  fire  out

But  this  parIcular  job  was  harder  than  they  thought

An  hour  later  the  South  Tower  fell  down

ALL  the  way  down  to  the  ground

By  now  they  discovered  this  was  no  mistake4  planes  had  been  hijacked,  it  was  a  terrorist  aPack

This  just  in,  the  North  Tower  has  fallen  down

ALL  the  way  down  to  the  ground

This  is  for  the  brave  souls

The  people  who  had  to  make  the  decision  to  burn  or  to  jump

The  people  who  had  to  tell  their  kids,

“Daddy’s  not  coming  home.”

The  legacy  of  9/11  is  not  to  grieve  for  the  loss

But  to  remember  the  heroes  who  risked  and  gave  their  lives  

for  other  people

NUMBERSPeople who died

2,998Firemen who died

343Survivors when the

towers fell

16

the way in, and the way out

every middle schooler has a double challenge:

first, to be unique and to appreciate all that makes one special,and second to be connected to others

and to appreciate the sameness at the heart of all of us,

what gives shape can make us uncomfortablethe skin that surrounds us,

the essence within us,can feel like the first draft of work,as we feel each flaw as a mistake

that draws the myopic eye,whereas there’s that of creation in that draft

and we should honor how far it goes toward what can be true,the first step out from possibility into the actual

is always worthy of awe,

who we are at our heart does not want to stay alone,and every step we make that is of a true connection

pulls us toward the other to make a whole larger than the sum of parts,

the young work their souls hard in this daunting challenge,all of us should honor the way in to ourselves

and the way out to otherswith the substance our lives.

by Henry H. WalkerOctober 8, ’11

1

For those who write their music,dare dream for seas who sail by stars,

and dance on every breeze,for those who live life,

for those who write their music

Poem by:Natasja Brezenski

POEMS...

Layout and photography by: Victoria C.

B Y : S E L E N A F A I T H

DIAMONDP O E T R Y

Like a

I feel it all rush up

the anger

and the pain

my vision blurs

as a little drop of water

falls to the floor

like a diamond

shattering apart

I sit

and let the tears fall

from my eyes

and they all shatter apart

as they hit the floor

and new diamonds rise up

and start falling too

Layout by: Victoria Cruell

[1]

POEMSby selena

My feet splash into the water

and the sand slush splatters against my

ankles the ocean spay flies into

the air and lights up as it shines

in front of the sunmy legs move fasterand fasterwith each lungefarther and fartheri stopand the waves splash

against my legs as i look into the oceanand i start believing

look at some other poems on the website

layout by henry spuria

I am here at last

the time has passed

I’m here for good

so strong I stood

the wind has blown

and I have grown

I’m stronger now

I don’t know how

but life is here

and I know dear

that life is hard

just say you’ll stay

Go fly away

into the sky

it’s time to say

goodbye goodbye

HELLO HELLO,

GOODBYE GOODBYE

Poem by: Selena Faith

Photography and layout by: Victoria Cruell

My dogs are so much funThey greet me at that door and walk me out before I leaveWhen I am home they sit on my lap and chase toysSometime they’re bad and they chew up my shoes or eat off the table,But they are still so much funWoof Woof

By  Ben  Alexander  

Layout  by  James  DePolo  

the  black  cat  

sleek                                

       powerful,  

and  clever  

my  friend  who  I  loved  

and  who  though  he  couldn’t  talk  

I  felt  like  I  could  read  what  he  was  trying  to  tell  me  

every  day    

I  went  to  see  him    

until  

one  day    

he  wasn’t  there  

why  I  asked,  they  said  he  was  gone,  

why  I  asked  again  they  said  he  was  dead.  

 

   

SPOTBy Liam Searles-Bohs

I feel like Iʼve been sitting here for years Face-down, canʼt moveOr else he might see meWhat is this near my nose?It has the consistency of dried applesauce or crusty milk.Elmerʼs glue on my floppy earThe two little round spots on my side which Iʼm named after

Ooop! Up I go, thrown high in the airAnd then down like a rock.His gentle hands catch me and then drop me onto the bed,destined to lie here for another year.

A best friend

someone

to tell

anything

at all

to trust and to care

for

the best thing

that you could

ever have,

a dog

By Anonymous

Layout by Kaydi

[1]

POEMSby jackson cecil

the smell of a new rainfills the air voices soundbutnature takes overonce morecrickets and birdscompete forloudest song of the morning bringing the sun out in all its glorythe canopyblocking it out like blinders on a horsethe watertricklesscilantantly in the streamas an assasianwould creep up on preya new callbrakes through the high pitched hum of the incektsthe sun pieces theclouds like a fang through skinblinding me

poem from writing quest!

Drawing by: Nora Martin

Clear skies on a silent day.

A magical garden

just waiting for someone

to open the gates–

open the gate to an alternate universe.

A place where imagination is the key.

Poem, photography and layout by: Victoria Cruell

Flying CarpBy Seth Lee

A flying CarpIn the sky

I’m hoping heWill do a dive

In the water

From up high

With a splash

It almost died

Layout by Shafe

By  Enjay  Layout  by  James  DePolo    She  has  a  place  in  many  hearts  But  I’m  afraid  she’s  out  of  aces  And  is  stuck  with  the  wrong  cars  And  everyday  sees  the  wrong  faces      Many  street  songs  are  dedicated  to  her  name  Shouting  for  her  to  never  change  and  to  always  stay  the  same      A  daughter  of  the  streets    Her  heart  losing  its  heat  But  to  me  she  means  everything  And  I’ve  always  got  her  back      She’s  always  been  loyal  And  these  are  all  facts  She’s  loyal  even  if  your  dumb  or  smart  And  I’ll  always  be  loyal,  Copenhagen  you’re  my  heart!  

The  Redwood  Forest  By  Zoe  Lindsey-­‐Mills  Layout  by  James  DePolo  

 There  was  only  one  way  and  that  was  up  Higher  and  higher  until  out  of  sight  

We  hiked  and  hoped  over  zig  zaged  routes  There  was  one  that  was  so  big  we  climbed  right  inside  

It  was  so  beautiful  there  was  only  peace  and  nothing  but  silence  

TIMEtime is fast or slow

you have got to accept ittick tock goes the clock

Type to enter text

Poem and photo by Kaydi H. Zembow

Tryby Fiona Lane

______________There are only so many ways I can try,try to show you, show you who I am,because I am afraid.There are only so many times I can try, try to tell you, tell you I am afraid, because I am who I am.

Drawing by Kaydi Zembow

Whispers

I  am  the  whispers  picked  up  by  the  waves,

the  murmurs  heard  by  the  hills,  standing  forever,

listening  forever.

I  am  the  voices  recalled  by  the  woods,

slowly  remembering  the  things  said  long  ago.

I  am  the  whispers  picked  up  by  the  rivers,

the  murmurs  heard  by  the  valleys,  sinking  forever,

listening  forever

I  am  the  voices  recalled  by  the  birds,

slowly  remembering  things  said  long  ago.

I  am  the  whispers  picked  up  by  the  waterfall

the  murmurs  heard  by  the  mountains,  ruling  forever,

listening  forever.

I  am  the  voices  recalled  by  the  butter<lies,

slowly  remembering  the  things  said  long  ago.

Swan LakePoem By Georgia Fabec Layout By Zoe Scretchings

I  remember  the  time  I  played  Swan  lake

I was the princess the star Beauty! I was the one the shined over everyone in the townWith my gleaming eyes and grace everyone wanted to be me...I would always find the secrets beneathI was the mighty swan!BECAUSE THAT IS WHOM I WANTED TO BE!

Look at all those little black

squiggles

Some day I’d like to learn how to

decode them

But for now all I need is the pictures

Without looking at the words

I know exactly what’s happening

Sometimes I will be read to,

But I like looking just as much.

The words are dry cereal flakes

Blissful Illiteracy

Look at all those little black squiggles

Some day I’d like to learn how to decode them

But for now all I need is the pictures

Without looking at the words

I know exactly what’s happening

Sometimes I will be read to,

But I like looking just as much.

The words are dry cereal flakes

And the pictures succulent, sugar-covered raisins

Dripping in the milky white of the page.

When I see only words I sail by without even looking

but then I turn the page and find a full page picture,

like finding an island paradise after sailing by only desolate and uninhabited

islands.

I still feel very similarly.

Looking back sometimes I still feel the letters are like little black ants

marching across the page taking the color from a beautiful picnic.

Liam Searles-Bohs

Layout and photography by Victoria Cruell

Poem by:

Jim

James

Tyler

Victoria

Zoe

Henry

Shafe

Kaydi Hadiyah

Digital Lit Mag Staff ProfilesBy: James DePolo