Here again it was – my favorite day of the entire year! Christmas morning had dawned bright and glorious, and the magic of the celebration of salvation filled my heart. I knew; I just knew that today would be the day my greatest wish came true. Under the glittering tree, my heart’s desire was waiting for me, I was sure.

   I really had everything a girl could want: a pink, princess bedroom, a supportive, overprotective dear mother, three partners in crime for brothers, the sweetest friends ever, and a continually deepening relationship with my Jesus.

   BUT. There was one thing I’d never had. I dreamed about it every night; thought about it – longed for it all day…every day.

   I wanted to go to Narnia.

   I tiptoed out into the family room…quickly scanned the pretty, sparkling presents under the tree…my heart started to sink…none of these could possibly be…

   I crept closer…knelt to peer under the Christmas tree…my excited anticipation quickly faded. None of these packages held my dream. I slowly, dejectedly stood up.

   And found myself in a forest.

   In Narnia!

Rain

Rain droplets race down from the love endearing, dark sky. The walked on, and pushed down, grass craving the refreshment of peace; the hard dirt that never lets go is getting softer, softer, wetter and wetter. My cold feet press against the soft grass; they kiss into the wet soft dirt, trying to suck me back into its unchanging ways. My face greasy and moist, my hair sticky and clumpy. My eyes smeared with black under my eye journeying down my face looking for perfection but slowly getting further and further away. The trees all look the same, and they intensely sway back and forth as if they are trying to ease their way out of the ground. The wind blows. It blows harder and harder almost sweeping my dirty, sinful feet off the ground that wants to pull me back in. My heart is pounding out of my chest, and the sound echoes throughout my body as it pulses in my ears. Faster and faster everything passes me by in a flash like it doesn’t even matter; everything is gone, everything stops, everything is quiet, everything is still; I fall to the ground and I am alone.

Lyrical poem

The Dance

Swan like patters swam through the room as the music played

The pastel lights shined above and below the dance room

The masked women ran as their dresses fluttered

The masked men chased with a light hearted clutter

Colors of spring splashed as the two genders collided

Amazingly even in number

None left out or alone

Simply perfect rotations of follower like dresses turned like clock work

The night was whimsically in tune to the soft mellow sounds of the violins in the orchestras

Then,

The tone of the dance suddenly sprang to different life as the clock struck twelve

And the women of the land left the ball

And returned to their homes.

By Lora Blackwell

Based on the poem “If I Was In Charge of The World” by Judith Viorst

If the World Was Mine

If the world was mine,

I would veto headaches,

Mathematics,

Sneezes and especially college tuition.

If the world was mine

Everything would be candle-lit,

Tattoos would tickle, and

You could always cut hair back on.

If the world was mine,

There would be no nightmares,

There would be no malice,

There would be no hospitals,

Or “Get well soon.”

There wouldn’t even be illness.

If the world were mine

Playing pranks and being messy would be good behavior,

Everyone would have a theme song,

And a girl who tends to forget birthdays,

And tends to trust too much,

Would still get the chance

To have the world for her own.

A small town in Texas with very few residents,

Not many have heard of Tow, and no one would care to go there.

Even my mother who lives there wishes she didn’t.

But it is there that I find a refuge,

A small lake with dark blue waters.

A lake where one would have to walk forty feet forward just to get to four feet deep.

The frigid water shocks, and then cools you the moment you step into it.

The area is all quiet except for the soft, rippling of the water,

 And the occasional fish coming up to feel the air.

The cold, muddy bottom of the lake would not suit many people,

But as my feet are consumed by the muddy bottom, I found that I rather enjoy this small town.

I step onto the shore and gaze around,

This isn’t the “endless sands,” or the “absolutely rock free” lake that anyone would dream of.

However, I see beauty through its imperfection.

I begin my walk back up to the small, one-room cabin that my mother is living in,

I notice a very large, and very thick log lying in the middle of the thick, tall grass,

I jump onto the log (actually having to jump because of its massive size),

 Eager to enjoy the lake scenery one last time.

I watch the wind turn the lake into small waves,

 I watch until day becomes dusk.

The sun that  made the water sparkle earlier that day is now hidden behind the clouds,

The water is turning a deeper blue color which I expect will soon turn to black.

I leave my spot on the log and make the rest of the trip to my mother’s small cabin.

The lake is not one that would impress many,

But I know that it will stay in my mind for many days to come.

Where in heaven’s name been you?

I’ll ask before I’m ever through,

Devouring you down my throat,

A certain sonnet I wish to quote,

“Compare thee to a summer’s day?”

How I love thee, Crème Brûlée.

Residing in a bowl of glass,

I’ll lick your creamy custard mass,

If tasting your sweet sin is wrong,

Then let my burn in hell prolong!

For nothing could assuage dismay,

If there was not you, my Crème Brûlée.

Based on the poem “If I Was In Charge of The World” by Judith Viorst

If the world was mine,

I would veto headaches,

Mathematics,

Sneezes and especially college tuition.

If the world was mine

Everything would be candle-lit,

Tattoos would tickle, and

You could always cut hair back on.

If the world was mine,

There would be no nightmares,

There would be no malice,

There would be no hospitals,

Or “Get well soon.”

There wouldn’t even be illness.

If the world were mine

Playing pranks and being messy would be good behavior,

Everyone would have a theme song,

And a girl who tends to forget birthdays,

And tends to trust too much,

Would still get the chance

To have the world for her own.

High above the world somewhere in Texas,

Dusk greets the breeze that caresses and dances with them,

The Cherry Blossom tree whose petals fall and dance away with the breeze.

And the raven sits perched on one of the branches,

Overlooks the night and keeps this solemn tree company.

The moon’s glittering light shines above, illuminating the world,

For the tree and the raven sit atop the world in their lonesome duet.

The light sparkles on the darkened feather of this raven,

And guide the petals of the Sakura tree as they dance away,

Into the dusk that has engulfed the world below.

Alone again,

Tonight like the last and the one before,

They stand in a lonesome world below in serenity and peace.

As the last leaf falls and dances with the breeze,

Away into the night, the raven takes flight into the darkened skies.

Its glittering feathers falling and dancing way as the leaves have done.

As it circles the Sakura tree below, it flies away into the unknown world below,

And as it disappears, the blossomless branches of the tree bud anew…

Dusk greets the breeze that caresses and dances with them,

The Sakura tree whose petals fall and dance away,

And the raven sits perched on one of the branches,

Overlooking the night and the world below, keeping the Sakura tree company.

  You know what really grinds my gears? Bananas. My goodness there are so many things about bananas that grind my gears I don’t even know where to begin. 

   First of all you can never just buy one banana, you have to buy a whole group of bananas. It’s really uncalled for. When I think of bananas, the unruly fruit, I cannot help but compare them to a middle school girl. The resemblance is obvious. Bananas always travel in groups, they are soft, if not given immediate attention they turn brown and mushy, and let’s face it, they have very little taste.

   Then you have the problem will spelling bananas. Without the good deeds of Gwen Stefani, over sixty-percent of Americans would have no idea how to spell the fruit. In fact, I have caught myself having to sing the catchy tune of “b-a-n-a-n-a-s” every time I write the word.

   So next time you are in the grocery store you have two choices. One, buy a real fruit like an apple, a single apple, eat it whenever you please, and enjoy it. You could even teach a three year old how to spell apple, it’s common sense. Or two, buy a bushel of bananas, rush home making sure your car stays at room temperature, spend five minutes trying to get the peel off, then try to eat all four bananas, and end up throwing two of them away.

   The whole process involving bananas just seems wrong. I know when I am at the grocery store, I will be buying an apple, not the emotionally unstable, buy-in-bulk bananas. My name is Ellen Giddens and that is why bananas really grind my gears.