Thursday, June 8, 2017

Ode to June












As we write this last post and wrap up the year,
We do not intend to bring you to tears.
It is time for us to go and head into summer
We bid you goodbye, oh what a bummer!!!


So we leave you with this
But perhaps you won't miss
Our terrible puns,
But your editors must be done.


Enjoy these last words
From your FAVORITE English nerds
Go and explore new summer sights
And please, don't forget to write!










Artwork by Alexa H., Grade 8


Ode to Travel

O, the   new places
             new sights
             new sounds
             new food.


O, the   different culture
             different climate
             different forms of transportation
             different adaptations.


O, the   unique attractions
             unique locals
             unique stores
             unique places .


Travel lets me be as free as a bird
It shows me these joys
And allows me to have
Many new experiences.

By Jason R., Grade 7


Artwork by Delaney S., Grade 9







Ode to the Beatles


There once was a quad from Great Britain
Who'd gained fame for the songs which they'd written
They invaded the U.S. 
And became one of the best
For all the young ladies were smitten.



At first they came off as quite cheery
In suits singing 'bout someone's deary
They'd twist and they'd shout
But soon they would spout
Tunes that were turning more teary.



First came the girl with no fellow
And a submarine boat of bright yellow
A strawberry land
And a great trip unplanned
Then they all went to India to mellow.



At last they had gotten quite tired
And more familiar life they desired
So back they went to record
And every rock rule explored
Until their dynamic expired.



You may know of their tunes which we hum
Remembering this fab foursome
Only two now alive
Yet their music still thrives
As the voice of an era that it's become.


By Jillian T. Grade 9





Some Final Thoughts...


How do you achieve complete and untouched happiness?
Everyone's idea of untouched happiness is different.
How do you laugh solely and everlastingly everyday of your life?
You determine the joy you take out of laughter.
How do you breathe in only positive and let out only negative?
Give me a call when you find it out.
How do you balance life and death?
Death is the absence of life, life is the absence of death.
Life's most pressing questions may go unanswered
For copious years after you and I
But who doesn’t love a good mystery?

By Callie C., Grade 9






Once again, have a WONDERFUL summer full of new discoveries!


Your editors,
Jillian T., Emily W., Courtney S., Callie C., Ling X., Nate S., Sara Elizabeth M., Jason R.




Wednesday, May 31, 2017

May You Find the Extraodinary in the Ordinary



Although the end is nearing and everyone is itching to begin their summer plans, we hope that you take some time to discover the positive sides in these seemingly dreary times. In these two poems, the authors have illustrated their unique and uplifting revelations found in their everyday lives. Summer is almost here, and we hope this month's post will help you get through the final days!




Drawing by Nick B., Grade 8


The Window
I once sat in silence
staring at my phone
Completely immersed in its harsh glow
Then a moving object
attracted my eye
I looked out the window
And saw something amazing
A bright mid-summer sunset
painted the sky pink
Flowers began to open up to each other
and show their true colors.
A man grabbed a ball that landed in a puddle
and returned it home to warm smiles and polite thank you's
Children who started building a snow man
only to give up and gleefully exchange snowballs
Sounds infiltrated through the window like sneaky burglars
Sounds like bird tweets and drumbeats and
others came together
To form a collage.
People of all kinds starting to gather
People of every shape, size, color, personality, and origin
chatted and laughed and sang
No one was alone, everyone had a part to play
I stood there transfixed at this strange world, but
left to return to phone and my business
But found I couldn't
Its semblance of importance
didn't engage me anymore
Its beauty had been eclipsed
by what I had seen
It was a shallow pond now
compared to the great ocean

Outside the window.

by Nate S., Grade 9
Artwork by Katie C., Grade 7










“Rain Boots” 
  
The most resilient of people 
Keep a pair of rain boots by the door, 
So when the sky opens up,  
letting water quench the barren Earth, 
They are always prepared 
To step out into the storm. 
  
And when they trudge in, 
Ruffling the water droplets from their hair, 
They do not cleanse the mud off their soles 
Because they leave it as a reminder 
Of all the times they not only walked through the rain, 
But jumped in all the puddles. 
  
Because they know without rain 
Their flowers of sagacity would not bloom, 
They would have no streams to drink up character, 
Or water droplets to mask their emotions. 
  
And above all, 
They know they would never appreciate the sun 
When it finally came out again. 
  
  When the clouds roll in 
And a cascade comes fleeting from the sky above, 
They go out in the rain,  
leaving the umbrella by the door, 
  
And they dance.

Poem by Courtney S., Grade 9

Artwork by Rhianna S., Grade 9




Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Springing Surprises

April showers bring May flowers, and to beat out the rainy blues, we are "showering" you with some of Holicong's most fantastic poetry and artwork!  We hope you take the time to celebrate National Poetry Month and enjoy this positively pleasant post!




Flying On Water

Six in the afternoon
Peaceful
Fiery-orange sunlight released from inside the clouds
Surrounding the heavens like a great big wall
Two blood-red knives slice through the glistening aquamarine waters
With points as sharp as a needle

Ducks swimming out of their way
Drifting across Lake Galena
They laugh and talk
Paddling the whole time
Gripping onto the sharp jet-black propellers

So peaceful
A breeze develops
Blowing proud and strong like a lion’s roar
Night slowly creeps into the afternoon sky
Amethyst-purple and apricot-orange clash for control of the sky
Slowly it turns into night

Nine at night
Animals drift off to a peaceful night’s sleep
The riders head to shore
Their black truck rumbles off into the distance
The kayaks mounted 

by Christopher A., Grade 9

Portrait by Gillian S., Grade 9


The Half-Whole Moon

Hovering
and I discovering
the half-whole moon unravelling
a gift into the light diminishing to dusk,
the half-whole moon displayed its dismembered husk.

Upon it I glanced
to find somehow it stared back,
beckoning until I was forced to ask,
what great stories do you dare grasp?
Your holes,
your caverns,
your mountains,
they all resembled nothing more than a mask.

But the half-whole moon continued to turn,
relishing what I could only hope to learn,
to earn,
but it only churned,
ignoring my pitiful yearn,
it continued to turn.

Your pits!
I screamed
craters and calderas,
nothing more than sheaves encompassed your layers.
Tell me the odyssey that has led to now,
your epic voyage of when and how.

But the half-whole moon continued to churn,
to burn my wishful hopes,
as I lay helpless,
earnest yet stern
and it laughed
and mocked
and cackled as it whirled.

The half-whole moon continued to turn.

by Joshua C., Grade 9


Artwork by Janice C., Grade 9


The Window

Have you ever been outside?
in a snowstorm?
at night?

Have you ever felt the grass?
as it freezes?
as it dies?

Have you ever sat and thought?
and prayed?
and cried?

Have you ever closed your eyes?
in disimpassioned silence?
And screamed for something?
in sticky silence?
And called out?
without opening your mouth?
Alone
In cacophonous interminable silence

There's a light on
Behind you
Do you feel its warmth?
feel its noise?

Its strange orange glow
Lends a shadow
With which you talk
With which you argue

You approach the light
Touch its surface
But it's a window
Not a door

You wipe away the dirt
The sludge
The streaky fingerprints
Left long ago

A hand appears
Not your own
You reach for it
But it's cold and gone

You smash the glass
Tears streaming down your face
But it's not there
Where?

The warm air floods over you
Like the first drops of rain
After years of unforgiving droughts

Inside you see paradise
You dive through the shards
Once vicious
They now protect you

And as you fall
You ponder
Why you sat
for so long
in the dark
in the cold
in the glow
of the window.

by Danny H., Grade 9



The Other Side of Society

I had been there all along
Clawing to get to the surface
I found that I was not
Moving forwards and finding my identity
But rather
Sinking deeper into the depths of society
I am not
Doing what is right
My ideal has always been
Doing what is best for me
Nothing is
Appreciated
It’s true that you are
Only an insignificant individual in this large universe
It’s foolish to imagine that you can be
Existing in peace
Differences are
Plagued by derisions
Never again will we fear being
The cruel and malicious tormenters
Humans no longer
Distinguish between righteousness and baseness
We are always ready to
Accept the destruction we create
And
Continue to move on for more
We cannot just
Believe everything is perfect
Nothing is what it seems to be
But we can shatter that mask
By living in hatred
A veil has been drawn over our eyes
Deep down, everyone is aware that
Nobody can escape from their fate
It’s not true when specialists say
Wounds can be healed
I tell you this
Time is not capable of patching up the gaps
People are mistaken when they believe
We will see the light at the end of the tunnel someday
Humans are intelligent
However, I concede that
Life sets obstacles incapable of being penetrated
The world knows
We have always lost
It’s irrational to trust that
There has always been another side to the story
(Now read it in reverse)

by Ling X., Grade 9


Artwork by Rachel C., Grade 8

From our recipe editor Emily W., put a spring in you step with the monthly recipe for April: Lemon Bar Peeps. Hop to it!

Wednesday, March 22, 2017

March Sadness



March came like a lion and we hope it will exit like a lamb. Even though March Madness brackets are turning into a bust, hopefully the wonderful March entrees will stop all the fuss. As the snow begins to melt and the basketball comes to a close, read these to settle your woes!


Journey Into Oblivion

We are humans
Who constantly journey into oblivion.
We are unaware,
Numb,
Confused,
Lost...

Everyday we journey
Into a cavern swallowed by darkness,
With no flashlight,
With no knowledge of how to spark a fire
So that we can see.

Our society does not see.
We are too constantly tangled in oblivion and darkness,
And we have come to accept these arms
That wrap around us,
Keeping us from venturing out.

Rarely do we journey outside the caverns,
Into the light,
So we can see,
See past the rock walls conjured by society,
See what is really going on in the world.

However, there are a few people
Who have ripped holes in the oblivion
To see the light,
And journey outside the dark caverns.
These people are immune to oblivion.
They are aware,
Conscious,


Enlightened... 

by Gemma L., Grade 9


Infographic by Callie C., Grade 9


Works Cited
Boesler, Matthew. "Bottled Water Costs 2000 Times as Much as Tap Water." Business Insider, 12 July 2013, www.businessinsider.com/bottled-water-costs-2000x-more-than-tap-2013-7. Accessed 1 Mar. 2017.

"Bottled Water Facts." Ban the Bottle, www.banthebottle.net/bottled-water-facts/. Accessed 27 Feb. 2017.

"Bottle Water Is Wasteful." The Water Project, Water Project, thewaterproject.org/bottled-water/bottled_water_wasteful. Accessed 27 Feb. 2017.

Goldschein, Eric. "15 Outrageous Facts about the Bottled Water Industry." Business Insider, 27 Oct. 2011, www.businessinsider.com/facts-bottled-water-industry-2011-10. Accessed 27 Feb. 2017.

Schriever, Norm. "Plastic Water Bottles Causing Flood of Harm to Our Environment." The Huffington Post, Huffington Post, www.huffingtonpost.com/norm-schriever/post_5218_b_3613577.html.




artwork by Morgan D'Angelo, Grade 9




I Bee-gan a Fight

It was a secret I kept for fourteen years. It was something that I prayed they would not tell my mom.
I sat on an uneven, giant, dark blue rug on the floor crissed-crossed-apple-sauced just in front of the light brown cubbies that were coated with a thick layer of shiny plastic. I waited patiently (well as patient as a preschooler could be) playing with my bleach blonde hair, blinking my crystal blue eyes, and laughing with my friends in an oval. We were just about to have craft time. I loved craft time. I was awfully good at it too, if I do say so myself. I spotted frizzy brown hair floating towards me, gently bobbing up and down like a buoy in the ocean. It was Miss Emily bringing over Elmer's white craft glue and yellow construction paper. I became eyelevel with a stack of paper plates and a tube full of googly eyes. I was immediately intrigued.
I guessed loudly to my friends what we were going to make. I distinctly remember saying, “A bee! We are going to make a bee paper plate!" At this time, I heard other guesses from the wild beasts across the room. Each one trying to top the next answer. A snail, a finger painting project, and a ladybug plate were the most notable. The ladybug plate was said by another little girl across the room named Regina.
Miss Emily hushed our eager bodies moving her hands like she was petting an invisible creature and said, "That's right Regina! We are going to be making a bee paper plate!" I was so excited! I really wanted to make that bee. Craft time was my favorite time of the day (besides snack and recess) but I was especially pumped to make this project. But then, reality sunk in. Miss Emily, my own teacher, had betrayed me. She had given MY credit to Regina. Sirens warped in my head, a warning bell dinging. This was wrong.
I sprouted up as fast as Jack's beanstalk and  immediately shouted, "Hey! Wait! I guessed that! I said we were going to make a bee." I drifted slowly down to my knees. I had just used my outdoor voice inside. This was unacceptable. But I knew that I had bigger problems at the moment. My credit, my shining moment, was brutally stolen from right under me. My face was newly tattooed with a small frown.
Regina stood up and pointed, "Miss Emily! Katie is lying. I said that. She said we were going to make a ladybug!" My face became as red as a firetruck even though I had no reason to be. I was never accused of lying by my own friend before. My jaw dropped ten feet.
All of the sudden, Prince Charming came in riding on his royal horse. A little boy with brown eyes, black hair, who was slightly smaller than me named Mark rose from his spot on the rug.
"Miss Emily, I am pretty sure Katie said we were making a bee. Regina is the one who is lying." Mark humbly muttered, his hanging towards the floor playing with his thumbs like one would a video game. My face returned to its natural color. However, my reign was short lived. Regina stormed over to Miss Emily and not using her indoor voice shouted,
"NO! I said that we were going to make the bee! I said it! I said it! I said it! Do I look like a person who would . . . would . . . lie? I mean seriously. I never lie. Ever. Ask my mom. In fact, if you call me a liar, I'll tell her. And you wouldn't want that would you? Because then that could get you in trouble Miss Emily."
"Katie! Get in the corner!" Shouted Miss Emily. "You lied and lying is wrong. You should not gain credit for something that you didn't do."
"But . . . but . . . Miss Emily . . . I . . . I didn't lie. I said that we were making a bee . . ." I mumbled.
"Katie, that is not nice. You are talking back to an adult and lying. Get in the corner. You are not going to be joining us in craft time today." She sternly said. The deed was done. I could do nothing but stand there in disbelief.
I picked up the broken pieces of myself and carried them in a bucket of sorrow. The walk of shame. My fellow classmates, playmates, friends, all bowing their heads to me -- not in respect but in disappointment.
I stood at the wall near the stand of picture books with familiar faces. These were not welcoming. Everything was foreign. So I lowered by body gently to the floor on the grey tile with multi-colored speckles and I looked straight ahead.
What would my mom think of this? She can not know. Ever.
My soft, light hands caressed my head. My feet shrunk in towards my stomach. My head sunk to my knees. My blonde hair became my safety blanket. The pose of shame.
"Katie, you are allowed to read in time out. Here is a newspaper." Miss Emily told me with a forgiving smile that was all unpleasant to me. "Read." she said, "Now."
I took the adult paper and stared at the scribbles. Torture. "This is punishment," I told myself, "Bad Katie. You should have just kept quiet. Now look what you have done. You can't even make the bee anyway."
The paper became blurry. The paper became wet. I was crying. Red eyes, swollen cheeks, and crying. The cry of shame.
Just as fast as it happened, it was over. The crying, the pose, the walk, the craft, the day. I picked up my backpack, wiping away the stale tears and I made sure it didn’t look like I had been crying.
"Miss Emily, please don't tell my mom." I said. She did not respond.
 To this day I do not know if she heard me or if she did not. All I know is that my mom did not know about this incident until about two months ago when I was in the car with my friend and we were telling stories about preschool. When I first told my mom she did not believe me. She told me that she would have done something about it and my teacher would have told her but then I reminded her that she also did not know about the next day when I hit Regina or any of the other times when I was a bad girl and Miss Emily didn't want to share. . .
This experience was tragic for me. However, the whole incident was so important. Not just because of what happened to me in that small preschool room, but what I gained. I did not receive credit for what I said. I realized that if you focus on what you do and do not do it for the credit you will receive, then you can move forward. When you receive credit because the goal was to receive credit, you stay in the same place you were. You do not move back because you still accomplished it but you do not ever get to move forward. I challenge you to move forward. See how it changes you.
Miss Emily, I am sure does not remember anything about this but who is to say that it is not true. Besides, this is only one of the many stories I have to tell about this class and Mark . . .

by Katie Q., Grade 9

This month's recipe is for the Shamrock Shake, compliments of our chef/editor Emily W.