freedom

Lady Liberty

A poem by Hannah W. | 7/26/2008

I am watching from the harbor
watching for you, my
tired
poor
longing for freedom
I carry a light into this world
I cannot be unaware.

I am stepping forward,
look closely!
and behind me your chains are
broken,
trampled
gone, you are free
I hold up this flame for all to see
I cannot be still

I am listening to many voices
those in oppression invoking my name
justice!

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Why Go?

A poem by Sarah Michal | 5/20/2008
Noise and clamor,
assault my startled ears.
Fans scream, this type thing they adore,
but I’d really rather not be here!

To be in that throng, wouldn’t it annoy?
They flow in waves quite tidal.
Cameras are waved in the air like toys,
to capture pictures of their idols.

Those memos will be thrown away,
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Free

A poem by Sarah Michal | 2/8/2008
In a vault
no way out.
Screams,
echoing madly.

A Light,
at the far end.
It frightens,
and draws me.

A Darkness,
holding me back.
I struggle,
but cannot move.

The Light,
it beckons me.
To draw nearer,
but I am held tight.

I scream,
not a cry of despair.
But a cry for help.
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Feel the rain

A poem by Emily-Smileygirl | 12/1/2007

Feel the Rain
Verse 1: I’m in a cage
I’m trapped inside myself
I wanna get out
And see what Life’s really all about
I need to break out
Need to shake me out
I need to get away
Chorus: I wanna feel the rain
I wanna feel sane
I wanna feel freedom in my veins
I wanna get out
I wanna scream and shout
I wanna feel what freedom is all about
I wanna be free
Free from pain

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Independence Day

A poem by Taylor | 11/10/2007

I

Fire in the sky—a celestial rain of colors bursts
Shooting into space from a mountain of faces.
The stars do not know the reason of bombardment
Is the signing of a piece of paper by fifty-six men who
Long ago pushed up daisies fighting a war
Between a mother and her rebellious child across the ocean.

But the faces do, and they say that

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The Wizard's Ball

Fiction by Aisling | 9/24/2005

Once upon a time--indeed upon the beginning of time as we know it--there lived a wizard.

Not the sort of wizard that wears a blue robe with bright yellow stars on it, and sits and stirs a cauldron all day. No, he was a real wizard.”

“What did he look like?” Rannon interrupted.

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Freedom

An essay by Aisling | 7/6/2004

I. What It Is

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