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Imprint Magazine Article
My Glasses
Since I was five, I used to pop out the lenses of my sunglasses, and walk around carrying books upside down pretending I was reading. I always wanted glasses so I could truly belong in the library ocular camouflage for the astute eager to add a "professional" accessory to my vintage, seven-year-old appearance. So when I couldn't see the chalkboard, I called my mom immediately drove to Pearl...

Just Another Break-Up Poem

By Christina Neist

Published: December 8, 2012

This was the first place entry in the Creative Writing: Poetry section of Imprint Magazine's Fall 2012 writing contest.

Give give give, take 

Wait hope pray, take
I wonder why the balance is unequal
When in fact the answer has always 

Been quite simple
A house of cards can only survive for so long
Unbalanced 

Take

Months spent on I miss you’s

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Pheromones

By Lucia Smith

Published: October 14, 2012

My heart was changing unwillingly.
Bass boomed through my breast plate to my loyal heart.
I pressed hard on my chest,
like a victim in the midst of Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation.
I fight to continue staring ahead and not to move back.
This is where you--
when we--
where I--
When my life was altered permanently and unwillingly.

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Because We’re Curious

By Emily Peters

Published: October 7, 2012

Walt Disney once said, “We keep moving forward, opening new doors, and doing new things, because we're curious and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths.”

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My More than Me Mission: Entry 5

By Grace Schroeder

Published: August 27, 2012

Favorite moments in Liberia:

- spending time with Abigail, giving each other glitter tattoos and swimming
- doing home visits for 20 students
- hearing them sing and greet teachers in the morning
- hearing the girls tell me they will miss me
- driving on Cyrus's motor bike
- holding the girls on my last day during the group lesson

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My More than Me Mission: Entry 4

By Grace Schroeder

Published: August 9, 2012

It's official, tonight I experienced my FAVORITE moment in Liberia! I hung out with Abigail, a More Than Me star student who graduated from our program, and tonight we are having a sleepover! Just me and her hanging out together, she she is telling me her story and about Liberian culture. THIS is exactly what I came here for!

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My More than Me Mission: Entry 3

By Grace Schroeder

Published: August 7, 2012

Today was even better than yesterday! I absolutely love it in Liberia and after today I know that I will most definitely go back to America with a completely different outlook on so many aspects of my life. And I've only been here for 2 days :) before I start, I need to apologize for misspelling some words in my last post, like "firms" Instead of "girls".

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My More than Me Mission: Entry 2

By Grace Schroeder

Published: August 6, 2012

I LOVE LIBERIA! I am finally here!!! Its 7pm on Monday in Monrovia Liberia. I wrote down everything I could think of to tell all of you! Right now I'm on the couch in our apartment, so grateful that we have Wifi here!

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11:14 at State St. and Hudson

By Caleb Miller

Published: July 31, 2012

I saw you Tuesday at the bus stop,
sitting underneath a tree
that must have been green
before the summer crop
was taken. Hidden by your
bangs you watched a book
write pictures for your eyes.
I watched you from a back seat
waiting for your stop. But when
it came, I must have feared the rain
outside, or you must have enjoyed it,
because the ninety route drove on without your ticket.

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A Rough Chew

By Sophia Chawala

Published: July 10, 2012

In March 2012, Congress passed with an overwhelming vote of 399-3 the "HR 347" law, or formerly known as the Federal Restricted Buildings and Grounds Improvement Act. The law basically allows the government to punish people who protest on grounds protected by the secret service or near any important officials of the united states (the president including).

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The Eighth Circle

By A.B.Connors

Published: June 27, 2012

There was no sound as Lucifer rose to the world's surface. There was no flash of savage hellfire, no rendering of the earth's crust or cacophony of black screams echoing from the throats of tormented souls. It was simply that in one instant the fallen archangel was no more than a being of the nonexistence, a name held in time and space by nothing but man's iron belief in God His Father.

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