Black and White and Red All Over
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Congressional Press 2017 Cover Art: Jillian Kendrick Title Credit:
Emma Conkle
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A Journal of Literature and Art 2017
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John Budwick
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Editors: Rula J. Brock Cameron Yassine
Featuring work by: Abdurrahman Ahmed John Budwick Sofia Flores Amanda Gaffney Mariam Ghani Hena Gilbert Devon Holloway Victoria Iturralde Xavier Johnston Davis Kendrick Tate McEldowney Ishbel Neil Vabees Qudus Megna Ratnapuri Lizzie Sherman Jude Simpson Sarah Tran Raleigh White Kora Whelan Ella Windisch
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Why I Write
Why I write, I don’t write for glory, I don’t write for fame, I don’t write for everyone to know my name.
I write to advise, I write to express, I write to remind there are others with less. -Devon Holloway
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Ishbel Neil
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Victoria Iturralde
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True Friends
A true friend sticks right at your side while others turn away. A true friend won’t say anything snide even if others think it’s okay. A true friend will share your dreams, your memories, and pain. A true friend’s encouraging smile will clear up all the rain. A true friend will inspire you and at times, they will tire you, But they will always be there for you. Even if it seems no one cares for you true friends eternally do.
-Ella Windisch
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Jill Mankofsky Spring is a Scam Spring is a scam. The foul flowers bloom. Their misleading appearance is only a disguise for vanity. Spring is the season of growth, but only on the outside. -Sofia Flores
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Summer Summer is a time for connection. The sand with the tide, the sun’s rays with a bright orange popsicle, the sticky syrup of a bright orange popsicle on the pavement, and the ants with the sticky syrup. Summer is a time to connect with each other and nature. -Sofia Flores
Mariam Ghani 11
The Flame of Fall
Fall is equivalent to fire. Everything falls to the ground, and eventually decays. Brown trees are burnt furniture. The leaves are the hungry flames. When they fall, it is one hope lost. But when the leaves grow back, they come as dreams. -Sofia Flores
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Victoria Iturralde
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Winter’s White Wave
Winter is a blank canvas. The world’s own undo button. Like taking a hose and power washing all that is wrong. Time stops and the world restarts. Winter is a time to relax and think.
-Sofia Flores
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Raleigh White
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From Awful The dark gray cloud brings precious water to the world. The gnarly trees provide the crystal air. The sweltering lava creates the deep earth. The harsh sun creates the bright fire. The precious water washes the wrong away. The crystal air soothes my face. The wise earth shelters me. The bright fire brings light to the dark. And from awful‌ Comes savory. -Kora Whelan
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Megna Ratnapuri
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Sarah Tran
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Congressional School As I go to my bus stop I think about why I'm here, to get a better education because a great future is near. I walk into the building holding the door for others. I see people getting dropped off and hugged by their mothers. Halfway through the day I'm hungry and need to eat. I get in line with my tray and ask for juicy meat. As I'm sitting down in class I try to do my best, listen to the teachers, ask questions, and help all the rest. At the end of the day, smiling faces is all I see. I look back at Congressional School, which has done a great job changing me. -Abdurrahman Ahmed
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Why Must We Age
Why must we age? Why must we grow? It seems only fair we ought to know, as we are the ones who age terribly so. Ye above need not fear what happens every day, each year. But we below, we never know what day or year or month we’ll go. As the years go on my life is good, but just not the same as my childhood. If we could escape this magical flow, what time in your life would you want to go? -Kora Whelan
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Megna Ratnapuri
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A Journal To Gold We had just got to the Rockies. As we looked up at those cold, desolate, snow-capped peaks, we felt a sense of dread settle on the group. We were going to be competing with some pretty scary things, the toughest part of our journey to gold so far. I should probably back up. Hi, my name is Peter, and as you can tell, I’m involved in the gold rush. I’m eleven, and have a family with two sisters. We came from our farm in Missouri after our father heard of the gold rush while in town one day. We planned our route through the Rockies. We decided to go in a straight line to San Francisco. This way would probably be the shortest route. The next week we were on the road. After a month of traveling, we reached the Rockies. As we looked up at those cold, desolate, snow-capped peaks, we felt a sense of dread settle upon the group. This was going to be our most challenging hardship yet. We camped at the foot of the harsh range of mountains. The next morning we started up the mountains. The temperature began dropping as we entered the icy climate. I immediately got goosebumps. The hair on my arm stood up, and a chilling wind passed by. I was regretting our family coming since the journey had been hard. It was getting colder, and my sweat was plastering my hair to my head as it froze into a thin layer of frost. We had been hiking for three hours and the perilous trek was sapping our caravan’s energy quickly. We had to find a place to take shelter again since we would need to start a fire and rest soon.
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As we heard the cry of wolves we sent a man named Ben Jones. He was a short, thin man who sometimes played the role of the group’s scout. The group gave him a small flask of water, and a night’s worth of rations. Then we continued climbing, bearing it out and trying to ignore the small, pestering voice in all our heads telling us to give up. In the next hour we were looking like snowmen, marching our way up a mountain that was home to an environment that we were battling with every step, pushing ourselves to limits we didn't think were possible. The adults thirst for gold, and some for a better life, was what was driving them. The children’s motivation? Fear of death. I truthfully think that our phobia of passing kept us moving. We finally reached the summit of our competitor the next day. That’s when I spoke ,“It’s time to go down.” -Tate McEldowney
Mariam Ghani 23
Ode to Novels
You, novels, take us to magical places we never thought our minds could take us. When I read you, the sky’s the limit or maybe there is no limit to where you can take me. You take me to see dragons, magic, royalty, history, the future, or maybe to places that even old chapter books can’t take me. You create mind movies in my brain, so that I don't need any pictures. Picture books are so boring and full of lethargy. They need pictures to tell a story. You, novels, fuel my bloodthirsty need to read.
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You can easily solve world hunger by fueling empty, ravenous minds and turning them into happy, full minds. Thank you novels, for helping people around the globe, and enlightening them to see English class in a new light. -Vabees Qudus
Amanda Gaffney
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Raleigh White 26
Untitled Flowers bloom Like bears rise from their caves Berries ripen Ready to pick Bees pollinate So flowers stay colorful Flowers spread Like the jam on my bread The sun shines Like gold from a river My nose fills Like water for the kids Water falls For flowers to sprout The waves crash on shore For seashells to arise Rain falls For grass to grow All I see Is vegetation
What am I? -Jude Simpson 27
The New Kendrick On one of the hottest summer days of my life, I ventured to the stream that was basically in my backyard. We knew that the construction workers were going to chop down the bamboo soon. I tugged as hard as I could like I was playing tug of war with my old dog. After that I gave up on pulling. I glanced at the loneliest bamboo piece ever, just resting on the ground, crying. I gripped it hard and brought it back to the house like I was a soldier in World War 2, winning the war for my side. 5 days later, the construction workers started working. I retrieved two bamboo pieces in total. The first one was taller than me, the second was small.
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I was proud that I had found the lonely one piece the tall one, the heavy one. I swing it like I am in the spotlight. The small one I gave away to a friend three houses away. Now about 7 months later, I still have the dead piece of bamboo that hides near the vicious spider. Now no one ever looks at the old Kendrick, gone and forgotten, just like the bamboo forest I got it from. -Davis Kendrick
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Photography by Davis Kendrick
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A Special Pebble
I am a pebble. My name is Peter. I look normal, but I’m different from other pebbles. This is my story. I’m powdery white with ashen azure splotches. I have some snowy spots on me and tiny greenish specks sticking out of my body. If you look closely, you can see they resemble crystals. When I'm standing up you can see a small tangerine dot on my side. Mom told me it’s a birthmark. My body is rugged, and I have a bit of a flattish edge. I have five sides and I’m about the length of the word ‘Dixon’ on the pencils you humans use. I don’t have that twinkly look that people like, but I can’t change that. When laying down one way, I have a sloped top. I also have a small limb sticking out like a peninsula into the abyss.
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No one in my family can swim very well. I have never gone overseas neither on boat or slingshot, and I thankfully haven't ever been skipped. I haven't seen any poor fellows with that fate since a hand picked them up. Except my friends who joined the swim team. They have even won some medals. Perhaps you have heard of Michael Pebbles? One day a human named Tate came and adopted me. We were together for about two minutes before he took me to English class. Now I sit still as he writes about my magnificence. I’m a lucky pebble. -Tate McEldowney
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Storytime
Reading books aloud Jumbled words dance in the air Stories come to life
-Ella Windisch
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Ishbel Neil
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Red Red is tough, yet easily angered or hurt red is powerful, violent, and daring red is joyful, fun, and surprising red is the roaring of fires and the sweet scent of roses full of love and defeat, passion and the warm summer heat you feel its power over you full of the feeling of heartbreak, love, loss, and war red looks brave, eminent, and controlling red tastes hot and spicy, with a hint of cinnamon leaving a bitter-sweet aftertaste settled on your tongue when you encounter someone red they forever linger in your heart and mind reminding you of who they once were and never quite forgetting them red makes me feel full of passion and excitement yet somehow empty on the inside red is the color of love and war the perfect contradiction -Victoria Iturralde
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Victoria Iturralde
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Lizzie Sherman
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Untitled
When ice covers the ground, When the ice cream trucks move out of town, When the grass disappears under the snow, When lost treasures never show, When green is replaced with white, When the frostbite strikes, When people sing for all to hear, When the busy streets are filled with cheer, When the trees are lonely, When the frost creeps slowly, When stocking hand from the fireplace, When the people dance with an elegant grace, When smoke rises from the brick chimneys, When people cook in the glowing city, When kids hang up lights, When children stay up all night, When Christmas grows near, That's how you know winter is here! -Devon Holloway
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Hena Gilbert
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“The Invention” Sarah Tran 41
Ellie Walker
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Congressional Press, its Editors, and the Art and Literary Contributors wish you a very merry and creative summer.
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Xavier Johnston
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