This year of Prarie Winds have been amazing I got to meet new people and amazing artists and writers . I love how we were so different from each other but yet we had so many things in common. The trip was amazing and being able to go back to the camp, where some of our best creativity bloomed was amazing. Being able to learn a new technique was so exciting,  and it just opened us to another whole world of art. I also got to make some new friends and learn their hobbies.  The camp was camp relaxing! The food was outstanding,  and when you take a hike it's so peaceful. I would come back,  if a certain someone would let me. ;) *hint hint*

Emily Kohls Art Reflection

I had a new and interesting experience at the Prairie Winds Young Writers' and Artists' Camp. Our artist mentor this year, Debbie Waggoner taught us how to make art using fibers: fiber art! It was a really neat experience and I learned a new way of making art. We felted bars of soap using fibers. We made our own batts of fiber using a drum carder and then turned that fiber into felt. We then used this felt to make whatever we wanted; I made an iPod pouch. I also made a ball for my kitten, Ginger. You use a ball of fiber for the base and then wrap yarn around it until you have the whole base covered. You then put in the washing machine, then the dryer. Finally, it's ready! Working and creating with the fibers and felt with Debbie Waggoner was new and fun experience and I learned a new way to create art.

Maren pulled off the road and checked her map and her mileage . Yes, she had gone seven miles from Nurse’s Landing but the map did not show the fork in the road. Here she was with night approaching wondering which of the two roads was the one she needed to go to Proctor Point. Robert Frost sprung to mind but this road less traveled looked all but impassable so she chose the less overgrown route and drove on. Thankfully not a mile down the broken tarmac ,she spotted a an arrow shaped sign barely clinging to its oak tree perch pointing her direction which said Proctor Point. Mentally she gave Frost and his less traveled the one finger salute and went down the road. Thirty minutes later the road ended in a curve that became a winding driveway bordered by tall trees on either side whose branches seemed to scratch the skies and reach for the emerging moon. Maren peered down the road at the house that was coming into view. Multi storied with gabled windows and two ell shaped wings it dominated the landscape. She pulled her battered Volkswagon bug to a stop in front of the door and surveyed the house’s nearly paintless exterior . Despite herself , she shivered as she thought,” Good lord, I have inherited the Bates Motel”

When I was thirteen or thereabouts , I thought my grandmothers were ancient. In reality one was barely sixty and the other just past it, but they had already donned old age like a cloak. Both wore the flowered house dress with apron and for dress the black crepe with rhinestone buttons. Both knitted, both lived with daughters and both had very limited social lives. It was not because they unmotivated or anti social, it was ,I think, that this was the role society had for them. At twenty My mother who was just in her fifties seemed not ancient but old. She worked, played bridge, attended church and was much more active than either of my grandmothers. She traveled back East to see family and cared for my father whose diabetes was getting the best of him. Her image of herself was definitely younger than my grandmothers’ at that age. Now I am in the age range and I wonder did they seem old because of my younger self classifying them that way or was it society. I do not consider myself old. I still walk with a broad confident step not the shuffling of age. I still work. I travel and socialize. I most assuredly do not dress in print house dresses or black crepe. In fact today, I am sporting coral jeans and a Dr. Who tee shirt. So what the heck is old ? Attitude makes us old. Acceptance makes us old. Explanation? Ok. Here goes. We are old not matter the calendar or physical state when we become set in our ways and unwilling to keep an open mind to new ideas and new things that life give us. We are old when we accept the fact that the calendar rules us. Sixty? Time to creak and moan and so we creak and moan. We make ourselves old when we are not involved in life and all the surprises it throws at us. We are old when we refuse to adapt to circumstances and seek what is good even in the bad moments. So do I think I am old. The calendar might say so but my mind and spirit is still learning, still adapting. So I am young and damn it I intend to stay that way until the last breath I breathe.

Betrayal of Perfection

Betrayal of Perfection

Darkness engulfed her. The bottom of her lovely white dress gently wrapped around her thin legs as if gravity was no longer working, and for the most part, it wasn’t. The ideal dress as white as a summer cloud was the only item not yet stained in the darkness as black as sin. The hair of hers covered her face, but she didn't notice.  Her eyes were shut. She could feel the frigid, unforgiving murk suck her in.  Alarm surged through her veins and attacked her limbs so she could no longer move them. The oxygen inside her lungs burnt as if they were holding a toxic gas within them. Terror sliced through her spine as sharp as a katana, urging her to scream. Her precious air escaped her mouth in the form of cheerful bubbles. Trapped in those cheerful bubbles would be the last of any joy or glee she would ever experience. The vine of leaves that had been twisted around her neck waved goodbye to the life she knew and the people she had loved above her. The innocence began to disappear from her lovely white dress. The ivory was fading into grey as she was dragged deeper into the blackness as dark as the evil-doings of the world.

If these were to be her to be final moments, she wished to see them. She lifted her head and opened her icy eyes to take in the last thing she may ever see. Through the lightlessness as ungodly as sin, she saw her father look down on her. Her protecting, loving father’s gaze was fixed on her. His arms were folded against his chest. His fawn eyes glared at her as they never did, but she could barely distinguish them. He looked like an evil mercenary scowling down on a crimeless prisoner, making sure she could never escape. He had no reason to worry. She couldn’t save herself no matter how desperately she tried. Even so, her only guardian who she depended on was not going to save her. She prayed he would, but he would never budge. He could not bother to rescue his little girl this time. This was his plan. He only set her on the Earth so he could exterminate her. Her demise was his mission; his goal.

Not once in her life, as far as she could recount, had she ever done anything so vile to deserve this as retribution. What motivation did he have to make him try to strangle her with a vine of leaves? For what reason did he shove her? She yearned to have her questions be answered, but she could never return to the faultless world above her to ask them. Her body was being swept away and taken beyond the slightest likelihood of redemption. Her only chance salvation was becoming was so distant, he could no longer be seen. The deeper she fell, the more of the murky sin tainted her fair, ivory attire. The sinless alabaster it once held was a long forgotten memory. She was blinded by a new domain enveloped in ebony immorality. She found the last bit of the toxic gas in her lungs and wasted it to cry her father’s name. The shriek would never be heard for all that came from her mouth were cheerful bubbles, but even if he heard, he would not have rescued her. The onyx consumed her completely. The princess, age of ten, has been banished from the righteous world.

Tha-thump. Tha-thump. Tha-thump. I’m sure he’s saying words, but all I can hear is my own heartbeat. Tha-thump, tha-thump-
“Kari!” With sudden silence, my ears were no longer flooded with blood. I looked up and winced back away from his cold eyes. “Pay attention. You’re never going to be let out like this.”
“I felt it again.” I bowed respectfully, snapping back up to sit properly before him. With my legs folded below me and my hands in my lap, I looked up at the image I’ve known since I was five. Cadeyrn, my father’s brother, had reluctantly taken me in when it became clear Mother would bear no male children. It was the third try when they’d given up, resulting in my sisters and I. Kaisa, the youngest, is seven years old and had been sent to the Southern villages to become an apprentice to the baker there; it wasn’t unusual for children of our status to gain jobs when jobs are few for even adults. Kalina, the middle child, lives with us still but she has been prearranged to marry Zan, the son of another noble family. I am the lucky one, to take up the position our brother would have taken should we have had one.
“It is nothing. I told you, what you sense can be no more than the edges of your own mind. Crazy, this one is. They would have been much better off to send me the shorter one.” Cadeyrn muttered, putting away our tools. “Your test is in an hour, and you’ve done nothing but slack. Got your head in the clouds, you do, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the elder sent you away to live with the Moderns permanently. Why I couldn’t just take the Biin boy, I’ll never know.” He slamed the door, giving up on me.
I sank down on the cushion I sat on. He’s right; I’ll never pass. But he couldn’t have taken Zan Biin as his apprentice, for only our family has learned this through the generations. Father to son, it’s taught, and twice already the ritual has been broken in my generation. It’s supposed to be Cadeyrn’s son that learns these ancient secrets, but his wife died young and bore him no children. So he must teach the next able child; his brother’s son. But, alas, Father has no sons and so I was chosen. A lowly daughter, whom so many believe is incapable of bearing the physical strain that is a part of my training.
I stood up, stretching my tiered limbs. I can’t even conjure a sphere; I’d never pass the test, and then I’ll disappoint Father. But running away would hurt him more; he was so convinced he’d be proud to be the father of the first female Keeper. I’ll never leave this village, let alone become a Keeper.
My last hour free of the discriminating stares passed too quickly, and I found myself standing, head bowed, before the elder for trial. The entire North Village stood around us, waiting in anticipation.
Today, March 30th, was the day every apprentice to the current Keeper held trial. Today was the day it would be determined whether or not I was to be allowed the final training, or if I must end now. The final training would take me away from this village and into the world of the Moderns, where I would be able to live for a year. I didn’t know what I would have to do there; no one did except for Cadeyrn and the elder, who had been the Keeper before him. My grandfather.
“You hath finished your training.” He said slowly, and all the whispers ceased. The whispers had been biting at my back, slashing me and beating me down. A girl can’t become a Keeper; it’s unheard of. “Do you believe you are ready?” I was taken aback. What does it matter what I think? What do I know, I’ve only just dipped a toe into the life of a Keeper. How am I supposed to know if I’m only the apprentice?
“I-I don’t know sir.” I stammered, fully aware of all the stares. “I don’t think so,” He stared at me, neither warmly nor coldly. Just wearily. “No. I’m not ready.” I couldn’t lie, and I had to take my master’s word. He knew better than I, and the entire village agrees, which means it must be true, right?
“Why do you doubt ye'self?” The elder asked, no revealing emotion in his voice. I hesitated, thinking on how to word it smartly.
“Because, those who would know my skill better than I have told me so.” I answered, glancing behind the elder to where my master stood six paces back. The ice in his stare was no different than I knew for ten years.
“Do you believe others over your own knowledge?” He asked, making me look back to him. I didn’t know what he was doing, but I did know not to drop my guard. That was one thing I have learned from all my years of training.
“Yes, when I believe they are more experienced. Is that not the reason I am apprentice and he is master?” The elder nodded approvingly.
“Yes, but it be not his word you should listen to, Young One.” He stared down at me, still very tall in his old age. “It be mine. I do not see you as powerful and disciplined as Cadeyrn had been.” I bowed my head, readying for the verdict. “But you possess another attribute that makes you just as strong.” He turned his head up toward the crowd around us. I glanced upwards, the smallest hope sparking in the lowest part of my stomach. “We have a future Keeper of Wind Tides: young Kari Draco will set out to the Modern’s world upon sunset.”
Instead of the clapping that I expect had followed similar words in previous generations, murmurs overcame the entire village. I had done it. I don’t know how, but I'd passed. I’m not strong enough to raise a sword and I’m not quick enough to outrun the goats, but somehow I had passed.
Sundown was mere hours away. Father was more proud than I doubt even he'd expected to be and Cadeyrn did poorly to hide his disapprovement, but neither reached me through the flurry of emotion and colors that rushed me towards the boats. No one would come with me; I am to go alone. I was about to begin my own life, and I can’t believe I did it. I get to leave for the final training all on my own, and I had no idea what I was supposed to do. I was terrified, and I was exhilerated.
Looking back from the rear of the ship, the entirity of everything I'd ever known looked no smaller than it would from a mile above. But this was so very different; it was a different angle here and an entirely different perspective. It wasn't I that was embracing the wind; it was my uncle. It wasn't to home that I'll fall when the wind dies down, but to an entirely different world.
But if I could make it this far, then I can complete this final stage of training. There's no way I'm coming home until this year was up, with my tail between my legs. I can do this.
My hearing started to fade and I was forced onto my knees; vision blurring. My mind opened up.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump. Tha-thump.

Great Grandpa(he is kind of an angry person)

Wrinkled hands lay clasped in his lap as he reminisces about the past
sitting on the porch swing, he looks to the sky
"I never should have left Louisiana, this damn town is nothing but worthless"
he proceeds to inspect the beautiful yard before him
squirrels on the feeders attempt to chase away blue jays
flowers bloom before his eyes
and those eyes that have seen far too many bad things
eventually find their way to the garage door
as he makes his way across the lawn his wife calls from the backdoor
"That damn nosey woman," he mutters
he gets on the riding lawnmower he has charished for so long
and mows the lawn for the fourth time that day

The Candle in the Dark

The candle in the dark

Praying that on day

This night with its degenerating fog

 May end

And that the life I used to cling to

Like a toddler to their mother

Never wanting to be left on their own

In fear of that pain

That eerily creeping forward

Numbness

That people walk around with

As if they had just trudged in from the dentist office

Instead of numbing their jaw to take out the pain

They numbed their spirit

Their persistence to always try harder

So be the candle shining bright

In the sea of the world

With all of its misery and destruction be the

Hope that everyone needs

And one day you might

Find someone

To be your light

Young Love By: Michaela Gellermann

Young Love

Big eyed little boy

To quiet to say anything of importance

Crazy flips and tricks

To get a little girl’s attention

Not realizing he captured her

The minute she saw him

Hurting and healing

First break ups are hard

Dark haired teenage boy

With rough hands

Comforts the preteen

From her first heartbreak

Someone she never thought of

 With any seriousness

She already found the one

She believes she belongs too

There’s time

Little girl of twelve

Little boy only fourteen

The world at their feet

Their fate within their grasp

Both already decided

Their fate is

Each other

The pain of real heartbreak

That silent crack no one else can hear

Though she left him

She knew it wasn’t

Because of him

Of something he had done

It was her dad

She had seen what

Love could do

Loving whole-heartedly

Causes pain

Trusting someone without consideration

Causes false hooded lies

To seem true

When the truth comes out

The person who

Loved unconditionally

Dies a little inside

She had an excellent example

However he never deserved the ache

The torturous pain

Of having a knife shoved in your back

And twisted vigorously

She felt the pain

She clearly understood

The pain she had inflicted upon his soul

Because she had done it to

Herself by causing him pain

She loves him

Needs him

To naïve to realize the truth

She doesn’t go back

Until it has become to late

Knowing friendship is

The best she can get

She clings to

The chance of having even

A small piece of him

In some way

His heart confused

Not understanding why

Why did she come back

Did she still love him or

Was she just playing him?

The pain of yesterday flying back in

With as much force

As a lead balloon weighing down his heart

She wants more

How can he look at her and not see

The guilt in her eyes

The pain every time she sees his face

Always knowing she blew it

Her one chance of ever having

That unconditional love

“She broke up with me,”

He cries as the love interest

The one after his fated half

She said she loved me why

Why do they always hurt me

But she came back

The one I’ve loved since childhood

Even just as a friend

He knows she still loves him

He has seen the haunted look in her eyes

The look rings true of her real emotions

She still loves him

“Let’s stay friends,” He says

“Let’s take it slow,”

Not wanting to get hurt he has to learn

Learn of her new outlook

Gain knowledge of why she left

She feels horrible

“I cant be just friends with you anymore”

She announces

“It hurts being this close,” her heart is

 Writhing in agony of the words she’s saying,

“I need you to decide I can get over you,

With time anything is possible,

Decide if it’s possible for you to love me again”

He takes weeks

Specifically two

To her it seems as if centuries had past

They are together again

Love how it’s meant

To be

Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen) by Mary Schmich and recited by Baz Luhrmann

One of my favorite poems, though it's more of a speech Schmich wrote for a graduating class. You should listen to Luhrmann recite it on here on YouTube. I don't own it.

Ladies and gentlemen of the class of '97-

Wear sunscreen

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it 

The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. 

I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. 

Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. 

But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. 

You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about the future. 

Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum.

The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 pm on some idle Tuesday. 

Do one thing every day that scares you. 

Sing.

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. 

Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours. 

Floss.

Don't waste your time on jealousy.

Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind.

The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself. 

Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults.

If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters.

Throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life.

The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives.

Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.

Get plenty of calcium.

Be kind to your knees.

You'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't.

Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't.

Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary.

Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either.

Your choices are half chance.

So are everybody else's.

Enjoy your body.

Use it every way you can.

Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it.

It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

Dance - even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines.

They will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents.

You never know when they'll be gone for good.

Be nice to your siblings.

They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on.

Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard.

Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.

Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths:

Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old.

And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, Politicians were noble, and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you.

Maybe you have a trust fund.

Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse.

But you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it.

Advice is a form of nostalgia.

Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth. 

But trust me on the sunscreen.

Teenage Girls

Teenage Girls

Laughing , giggling, squeeling

Noises girls make during studio nights

Or when excited

The casual raise of the eyebrow

The smirk of a creeper

The pillow fights tossed carelessly at each other

During a pillow fight

Boys think we’re crazy

Little kids think we are cool

Seniors think we are childish

And adults are glad we aren’t

Getting into trouble

A million reasons to turn inside and never trust

A few to take a leap of faith

Laughter

The cure to any pain

Chocolate the cure to heartbreak

Writing the in the venting uniform

Tip-tap the computer keys click

Ding

They’ve entered another post

About boys

Heartbreak

Chocolate fondue

Wcw and Mcms

Girls are by far the most complicated

Gender out there

But we know what we want

“The Girl in the Back of the Room”

Trembling. jaw

Trembling, lips

Trembling. eyelids

Trembling.

Finally, one single tear breaks free,

Trembling its way down a porcelain cheek.