Laurel Middle School 2010-2011

By

Oli

via

Shao

2

By Emily Knight

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Chapter One

Ha! We tricked you! You are now read-ing the introduction! We hope you enjoy these amazing pieces of work submitted by your peers. The editors of Laurel Loop worked very hard to make this possible, but we also had a lot of fun looking over your pieces.

Enjoy! The Editors of Laurel Loop

Mrs. Christina Stanek, Faculty Adivsor

Sabrina Downey, Chief Editor Elizabeth Murphy Frances Hartwell

Misbah Lokhandwala Dylan Hoffman Kaleigh Shupp

Hannah Wakefield Sara Hull

Natalie Thomas ShelLynn Beasley

Sophia Downey Julia Rusnak

By Maris Hammerman

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The Point of No Return

By Ellen Hata

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By ShelLynn Beasley

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By Caroline Silver

Fear

Fear. We all have it. It hides inside us, makes us scared.

Two years old or twenty, we all own fear. Inside us, on

us, within what we do. It’s there hiding. It will always

be there. You can overcome it, deceive it, but it will al-

ways return. Maybe not in the same way, but it will.

Fear is immortal, it is always with you, you cannot hide

and let fear eat you make you disappear. Live with fear.

Use fear. Be fear.

By Emily Knight

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Samurai Author’s Note: This is an excerpt from a story that I wrote for our social

studies project on Japan. I studied a samurai. Enjoy!

A loud knocking on the door came. Imomune got up to an-

swer it. He opened the door. “Sir Imomune, you are needed at base

camp. The Genji are recruiting more warriors and you were re-

quested.” Imomune looked at him blankly. He knew this was com-

ing but not so soon. All of those days of training with riding horses,

arrow shooting, martial arts and sword fighting would pay off. He

would not see the ritual of his son turning into a man. He would

miss his family, especially little 2 year old Chinyo. Momo was

Pregnant; he might not see his own child being born. “Sir, go get

your armor on and both of your Samurai swords immediately.” The

general barked at him. Imomune did as he was told. He went to his

room and put on his chest pads and back pads, all of those little

pieces of metal and leather sewn together. He grabbed his swords.

They meant so much to him. Only a Samurai got two swords. When

he came back to the door, his family was waiting there to say good-

bye, possibly forever. He kissed each one on the heads and bid

them and sad farewell.

Momo stood there until Imomune left. She watched him

walk away. She then ran to their room. On the bed were the love

poems that Imomune wrote to her from when they were younger

and Momo wasn’t supposed to see Imomune. She shed a tear know-

ing that she may never see him ever again. Samurai wives are not

supposed to cry but this was an exception.

Imomune loaded the cart. The general handed him a sashi-

mono (small banner) for identification. Imomune took it solemnly.

Though he was sad to leave his family he was going to fight in

honor of the Genji. Serving his clan was a good reason to leave his

family.

Imomune never returned for he painfully committed seppuku

(ritual suicide). He had committed it because he had dishonored his

clan. When a samurai dishonors his clan it is sinful not to commit

suicide. Imomune had not seen a ship coming to invade. He had no

choice.

By Abby Goodman

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All swans gather, ready to fly, but two stay; they cannot

go for their wings are torn. I am one swan; you are an-

other. We are the two unlucky; we cannot go with our

brethren. Our wings confirm it. Yet we have a connection,

our torn wings and the hunter who hunted us. Do you re-

member that night, a glittering full moon shining down on

us? Just the two of us swimming, making patterns in the

still water, heart patterns, star patterns, moon patterns, any

patterns that came to mind. We want to live in this mo-

ment forever. Just then, a shot rings out in the night,

breaking our peace. We catch a glimpse of the musket be-

fore the bullet pounds down on our wings, blowing us

head over heels into darkness. When you and I wake, our

brethren are taking off. We cannot go; we must stay on

this icy plain in the frigid air, until spring comes again.

Well, at least we have each other.

By Maddy Massey

By Julia Gasbarre

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Tom the Turtle and Julie the Jack Rabbit

By Sara Hull

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By Amy Sinnenberg

Power,

Cower.

In fear,

Oh dear.

It stood,

No good.

By Vivian Loney

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Illusion

Illusions,

Delusions,

The putrid fusions!

Oh, how I hate,

These optical illusions.

By Vivian Loney

By Nina Chapman

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By Nina Chapman

BEACH

Because of

Each wave

And because of each shell it

Can

Help us forever.

By Vivian Loney

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Maris Hammerman

Water, water,

Fallin’ otter,

Comin’ through the bay…

It goes here and there,

It goes everywhere!

Tumblin’ all today.

Drought, drought,

So tall and stout,

Knocks the water out!

No replenishin’

Oh so refreshin’

H…2...0...

It’s raining, it’s pouring,

My little sister’s snoring.

Oh so small,

But oh so loud,

I couldn’t get up in the morning!

By Vivian Loney

H2O

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By Lucia Pabon

I play a poem in my head,

It stays in there until read.

It lasts in there about forever,

Regurgitated when it’s better.

By Vivian Loney

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I Am From…

The magnet covered fridge

A squishy feathery bed

The stormy walls of my bedroom

The forty six rubber ducks in my

room

A green fuzzy blanket

I am from a place called home

A front door, with a path leading to

it

A garden I used to be afraid of and

run away from

A small wall that I enjoy sitting on

The pink garage leading onto the

creepy alley

A small red tree in between the

windows, sparkling everywhere

The yummy Chinese food

All of the great food from our

kitchen with the eight burner stove

and two oven doors

My daddy’s skills on the grill

My moms freshly made ribs

My buttery popcorn after school

Creamy nutella

The sushi, anywhere, everywhere

The nuts that I cannot eat

Microaveable pepperoni

My mother’s pasta, with the white

sauce

The food that my dad does not cook

My brothers debating skills

My ten cousins on Christmas day

My mom’s sense of fashion

I am from my mommy and daddy

I am from playing Life with my sis-

ter on a lazy summer day

Acting as a bird, then an orphan in

a blink of an eye

Talking with my friends until two

am

Some crazy times we have had

Rainbow hospital at 3:45 pm on

May 21, 1998

Germany, Ireland, France, and a lot

of other European countries

Peach Tree City, Georgia

Poland, Scottland, and Germany too

Greece, a long, long time ago

Russia, Whales, England, France,

and a lot more

Cleveland, Oh where I was born,

where the lake meets the shore

America, the land I call my home

The world

Me

The belif that all are equal, men and

women, black and white, Puerto

Ricans and Irishmen

Respect to the military

Believing in myself and making

good decision in my life

Fighting for good rights

I believe that everything is possible

Myself. Who can make me, me be-

sides myself?

By Nabors Advisory

Grace Cowan, Lucy Feldman, Morgan

Hegenbarth, Kelsey Jones, Maria

Mayer, Grace Neiswander, Hannah

Patacca, Hannah Preston, Rachel Rabin, Erin Saada, Caroline Werner,

and Katie Nabors

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Growing Up

Are you the kid who loves to run and play? Are you always neat and proper? Are you anxious to grow up and leave childhood? Or do you never want to grow up? When will you be you? Act to your own ability, speak for yourself and others? When do you dream, when do you dare to do the impossible, when do you do? Dream it. Dare it. Do it.

And believe in yourself. Be… YOU!

By Emily Knight

By Amy Sinnenberg

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WHAT-TIME-IS-IT?

I can’t wait until summer

I’ll stay up late at night

Washing the car will

Turn into a water fight!

I can’t wait until summer

I’ll read on the lawn

I’ll sleep until noon

I’ll banish my yawns

I can’t wait until summer

I’ll see all my friends

But my two little sisters

Will drive me round the bend

I can’t wait until summer

I’ll swim in the pool

And I know my new swimsuit

Will look so cool!

I can’t wait until summer

But now I feel like a fool

I’m dreaming of summer

On the first day of school

By Sabrina Downey

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Middle School Madness

By the way, we have a test tomorrow And please return that book you borrowed The cubby room makes me scream-eek!

Three pages of homework and write about your week- -Excuse me, teacher, when am I supposed to sleep?

Emails are piling up my inbox

And now I’ve lost my iPod dock My alarm didn’t go off

I don’t have asthma, but I’ve got a cough My shirt is crumpled, my hair’s a bird’s nest

Everyone says that they know best

I think I’m dying But I’m still trying I got an A-yippee!

I got a B-what’s wrong with me? In class, they manage to look so cool

But on my cheek is a river of sleep drool

Sports practice just about finishes me off My graceful dive turns into a belly flop

I’m sleeping like the dead And my neck cannot hold up my head

Towards high school we’re gradually led But I wish I could go back to bed

By Sabrina Downey

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Explore

Explore yourself, let yourself go. Jump, fly, be free.

Explore your mind and heart. Use them, feel them in

you, feel the power, be the power, and explore the heav-

ens above. Run through the gate holding you back; ex-

plore. Be yourself. Float in the clouds. Fall. Fall free,

just go down, and then you will be yourself and explode

with power. Then you have explored yourself. You

have explored your mind.

By Emily Knight

By Ellie Durdle

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You Don’t Belong Here! And I Am From Belong? Belong? Don’t tell me where I be-long I belong to the world I belong to no one I belong to the sun I be-long to the stars I belong here on Earth I belong out on Mars I belong to the sky I belong to the sea And all of these things Belong to me I belong to the hills The beaches, mountains, lakes I belong to tsunamis Volcanoes, and earth-quakes I belong to joy I belong to sorrow I belong to today I belong to tomorrow I belong to a castle I belong in L.A I belong far away I belong in the fray I belong in the rain And the dark wet earth I belong to the Flag That starred, striped turf

I belong to books I belong to paper I am a destroyer I am a maker I belong to music I belong on stage I belong on the court I belong in the waves I belong to up I belong to down I belong to day I belong to night I belong to peace I belong to the fight I belong to the drum of life’s steady beat I belong to the clatter of danc-ing feet I belong to hills covered with heather I belong to hot, sunshiny weather So don’t try to tell me where I belong I belong to the world I belong to no one I know who I am I know what I want So don’t try to tell me Where I belong By Sabrina Downey

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Two photosensors

Cells that allow us to see

Lovely rods and cones

Rods detect motion

They only work in evenings

Rods your darkness guides

Cones just work in light

They show us awesome colors

Cones your daytime guides

By Sophie Cochran

By Anna Zipp

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By Bethany Husni

By Molly

Easly

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Her Eyes

It fell down. Softly at first but then, something woke it,

and it plummeted down, hard and fast its anger coming

down with it. But the anger was in her eyes. Her purple-

blue eyes that made you wonder how they could ever be

filled with hatred. But, it was there. The madness had

nested in her hard, black pupils for the night. And it in-

tended to stay there. But once it landed, the fog lifted

and a spark burst in her eyes, just to die again. It was

back, in not just her eyes, but her body. And she crum-

bled to the ground. She lay there in a heap of sorrow un-

til the clouds drifted away to reveal a star. Just one star,

but I felt privileged to be in its graceful presence. But

when the clouds lifted, she seemed to float away, too. I

tried to reach for her, but she slipped out of my grasp.

No matter how hard I tried to steer her to that star, she’d

always follow the dark clouds. She seemed to stare right

through me and any other object around her. And when I

held her flawless, skinned hand in my pruney dry one, it

was like she didn’t even notice. It was like a heinous

crime, and I am the criminal. The one who drowned her.

The one who brought her to her state of mind. I looked

into her eyes, her purple-blue eyes that used to sparkle

and sing. Her eyes answer it all. But there is still one

question that roams in my mind. How could someone so

beautiful and perfect be guilty?

By Bridget Napoli

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My Father

I slowly reach for my father’s hand, trying to grasp it as new

experience and wonders sneak their way in as I grow. When

my fingers finally touch his, a warm comforting feeling

sneaks up my fingers and makes its way to my heart. One

I’m holding on, I can’t let go. His hand can calm a thunder-

storm or make cars stop so we can cross the street. It’s like

knowing that you have somewhere to be. It’s knowing that

you have a place to call home. But you won’t always have

that. One day you’ll let go, to get a better grip. But you just

won’t be able to grab it again. Soon you’ll be living your

own life and your father will just be a shadow. A shadow

that only appears on sunny days. And your life will move on.

Now I’m hanging on for dear life. Crying when there’s a

shoulder to cry on. But it won’t always be that way. But

there’s a place in my heart kept just for my father. And it

will always stay there, forever.

By Bridget Napoli

By Maris Hammerman

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By Anna Zipp

By Claire Wernick

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By Amy Sinnenberg

By Amy Sinnenberg

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By Abby Marks

By Maddy Massey

Love Love is a disease of passion. We fear it, explore it, grow on the passion, and let it take us over. We love all the time although we might not know it. I love, you love, and we all love. Let Aphrodite, goddess of love, shower you in it, bath you in the passion and beauty of it. Someday we will find it, capture it, and make it our own. Own love. Own yourself.

By Emily Knight

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Death

We have our faults, We have our drags,

As someone pulls us down you feel like you’re mad. People scream, and people fret,

Like the devil has pulled us down and lured us into his net. The troubles pass by like a new sea, But the guilt will never set you free.

You run in terror like there is no problem now, Only then you realize to cry and frown.

People come and people go, The cold dew brushes you,

Like new fallen snow. Then you try to run and get away,

As your death will come soon, And always stay.

-Anonymous

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Sunrise in Okoboji, Iowa

By Ellen Hata

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By Maris Hammerman

By Sara Hull

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If you dream, dare, do, you are a Laurel girl.

By Emily Knight

Sunset at Okoboji, Iowa

By Ellen Hata

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By Caroline Megerian

By Isabel Friedman By Maddy Massey