April 2015- Audrey Sparks

10359903_10202146729249875_2346694813396819353_n%5b1%5dAudrey was born and raised in western Nebraska. The bottom of the barrel of a group of seven children she grew up with a vivid imagination. One of her earliest stories she remembers creating involved scaring the kids in the neighborhood by saying an old man killed a woman in the abandoned house down the street. She never wrote any of my stories down though.

She left high school at fifteen and wandered a bit. Audrey has lived in Nebraska, Colorado, Illinois, Arkansas, Arizona, Nevada, California, Wyoming, and now Iowa. In her travels she’s had the privilege of experiencing more than most will experience in a lifetime of living. Audrey settled in Mason City fourteen years ago. She started placing her stories on paper once she hit college. Thanks to the influence of some great instructors at North Iowa Area Community College she found her niche behind the pen about two years ago. Since then she has flourished. Audrey is thankful for the guiding hands of so many wonderful writers here at Waldorf.

She was able to write for the Lake Mills Graphic last summer and experience the days of a small town journalist. It was a fantastic experience and she looks forward to continuing her growth in this style of writing.

Audrey also looks forward to expanding her creative writing in fiction and non-fiction as well as increasing her poetic abilities. Her future includes graduate school to pursue a masters in the creative writing world and eventually land behind a desk to help other young writers find their preferred ink color. She prefers Azure blue with sparkles.

Here is some of Audrey’s works:

Liberated

Like a slice of deliverance sky, blue ribbon sliding through air,
Sleek and twisting.
Shimmers on one side, reflecting crystals above.
Cool, crisp darkness below.
Held tight in the grip of a juvenile trunk,
Swung high as a liberation flag.
First moments of play for
A pachyderm calf.
Joy introduced by loving hands
Of those gifting salvation.
Unshackled from pains of forced servitude,
Constrained by hands of greed.
Taken by lust, covetousness, selfishness
Craving without understanding,
Poachers of life.
Utopia finally arriving,
In the form of a cordon of asylum,
Cutting the bonds of slavery.
Unrestraint released by the joy
Of an empyrean streamer.

Premature

Her ears were filled
With a blue black highway
That led to silence.

The flickering sign
On the side of the road,
Filled with a failing battery,
Blinked dimly D-E-A-F.

Roads left unmarked
No direction for
Visiting sonority.

Pavers and rollers removed
Dust covered orange caution cones
Stand as stark reminders
Of a job left unfinished.

Dump trucks empty now
Meant to carry syllables;
Orders never to be received.

Idly sit waiting
All workers given leave.
No hands to turn the sign from stop.

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October 2014 – Samuel Morrison, Sophomore

me

Sam Morrison has loved reading and writing from a young age; it was a few years back during an Honors English course that he decided to make the art of writing an essential part of his life. Along with English, music has been a central part of his daily life. Starting with the accordion at age 7 he has traveled the path of music, working on mastering piano, euphonium, trombone, voice and most recently the harpsichord. He loves the two art forms for their ability to create emotion and thoughts in others. In the long run he dreams of being a teacher of both of his loves.

 

The Loom of Mr. Unknown: An Assassination Interrupted
Fortune wishes to banish me
Have I forgotten how to love, to breathe?
I can feel their presence.
Three wise men have arrived to judge me.
Their vigilance shall persist as mine.
Movement is not an option at the slightest
While those morals cut me;
cut me as in the way I slashed her porcelain face.
Rose nectar slides down her cheek
Sticky and full of a lesser presence.
I could have flown with the gulls,
nigh the mountain range, so close, but so diminished
My suitcase and travelling clothes are ready
To be appropriated into the belly of the law.
Given back gently, I will don them proudly
Avert I the guillotine
The Loom of Mr. Unknown: An Assassination Interrupted

Around in sound goes the record
Such a marvelous invention.
I fear I am trapped in the sound
Revolution, revolution, seventy eight revolutions per minute.
This golden horn has my focus.
I can see in these movements and noises
pure memory, recalling Earth while twilight
Screams of sheer amusement.
Death, my dear accomplice…
O! I hear their feet!
The job will be done, the songs almost done
We’ve heard the scherzo and on to fine,
I’ll be nabbed and beaten to a pulp.
Clubs and nets do not faze.
A monster lives within my tainted soul
They will capture it like fowl beasts.
Revolution—spin the tide in
Slower now, a change of tempo?
Take me to Elysium!

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August 2014 – Marisa Donnelly, Senior

Waldorf College’s Writer of the Month, August 2014

Marisa Donnelly, Seniordaycare picture 2
 

Marisa Donnelly was chosen as the August 2014 Writer of the Month because of her dedication to writing this summer. From June to August 2014, Marisa worked on her summer internship as designer and creator of the blog websites you are reading right now. Her internship was focused on creating a useable website for current and prospective Waldorf students, as well as faculty and staff, to help promote the Creative Writing and English departments at Waldorf College and keep the community updated with literary events on campus.

 

Here is a list of the websites Marisa created. Feel free to browse through.

Creative Writing and English at Waldorf

Distinguished Visiting Writer Series

Waldorf Literary Review

Waldorf Writer of the Month

 

In addition to her work on the blog websites, Marisa also attended two writing workshops at the University of Iowa for the Iowa Summer Writing Festival: “I Liked Everything About the Ending” by Anthony Varallo, and “Turning the Poem Inside Out” by Elizabeth Robinson. When asked about her experience, she said,

“Being able to attend the Iowa Summer Writing Festival this summer was an incredible experience. I applied for the 2014 Alpha Chi Research Grant to put towards these workshops and I’m so thankful my proposal was accepted. Being in Iowa City was so uplifting because the environment and the people support writing and literature so much. I learned a lot about my writing style, my strengths and weaknesses, and met so many wonderful people–both classmates and teachers–that are all passionate about the same things that I am. There’s no greater feeling than that.”

 

Marisa is headed into her senior year with a triple major in Creative Writing, English, and Secondary English Education. Her future plans are to obtain a MFA in Creative Writing and teach at either the middle school or high school level.

 

Here is one of Marisa’s poems, “The Song” that received an Honorable Mention for the 2014 Salveson Prize in Poetry.

 

The Song

You love her in silence

like the cardinal on the frozen branch

puffing out its scarlet chest, full

heart expanding in cold morning air,

lima-bean lungs bursting with inhale.

You love her quietly. Eraser shavings

on seats of diner booths. Scrawled pencil markings

on white napkins, tracing patterned designs

of cloth, feeling each raised vowel

under fingertips. You love her unspoken:

a flower for each freckle above her left eyelid,

names carved into tree bark, initials on padlocks

secured to rusty metal bridges, a quiet brush

of lips on skin between shoulder blades. Then

your red chest widens, ribs bend as lungs

stretch like balloons. This kiss blossoming

into voiceless song.

 

 

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