Fantasy and reality

(Volume 1)

We asked Rockland a classic question: What is real? And what is not? Here's Volume I of Image's Fantasy & Reality.

Let Me

Kellie Berry

My idea of fantasy is kings and queens,

knights and fair maidens

fantastic castles and miles

and miles of lush

green hills and forests

 

How I long to live like this ,

but without the plague and death

But I wish not to be a princess

No, let me be a knight          

 

I want to defend the kingdom

with honor and bravery

                       chivalry is not dead, for I will keep

        it in tact

 

Let me at a hideous beast

so that I may slay it and

save my kingdom from destruction

however, I will not slay a

mighty dragon, for those

creatures are my friends

 

Yes, let me be a knight

for a just and kind king who is

a friend to his people but the

fiercest warrior

 

Let me live in this world

Alex Domina

Shamara Caddeus

Untitled

Anonymous

This is the story of my life

Without title or purpose

Without a name that would ever mean anything

 

I fantasize about having a name

About having a title

About having a meaning

 

But I am as invisible as the wind

The only difference between us is

The wind can be felt

And with enough force it can move people

 

And I sit

Quietly writing untitled poems by anonymous

That mean nothing because they are about myself

 

It is not a true crisis

I know that

But god damn it

Every mountain, hurricane and irrelevant side street has a name

So why can’t I?

My Reality

Nicole Reera

The girl heard her name called.

She stood.

She walked to the front of the room.

She trembled.

She cleared her throat, not ready to begin.

Eyes closed.

The immense pressure of Humiliation’s hot hands

Suffocated her.

She blushed.

She opened her eyes.

Tears threatened.

She recited the poem,

Badly.

People clapped.

She sat,

Eyes down.

Humiliation hovered until he was sure his work was done.

This is my reality.

Megan Lund, Kearah Aniolowski, Mickayla Murphy

The Boy Who Was Different

Isabella Sacco

We all knew that boy was different from the others

The boy who sat 4 rows over 3 seats back

In the classroom painted gray and filled with cold metal desks

He stood out to me, to all of us

I would glance at him once in awhile, wondering what he is thinking

As he looked out the classroom window

He was a loner, but I had a feeling he liked being alone

We always saw him around town walking around

Always alone with a journal in his hand

One day in class he left to use the bathroom

And my curiosity got the best of me, as I peered my head over

To his desk that sat 4 rows over 3 seats back

And saw the words “using imagination to create the unimaginable”

Scribed all of the pages

We knew that boy was different

Isabell Uong

Eden Dalton

His Question

Sophie McLellan

“What’s real?”

He whispered to me

His voice holding the gravity of an unseen summer wind

And as I looked towards him

My heart sank to see his gaze trained on the stars

Those vast cosmos that held half of the wonder

Contained in his eyes

 

He stretched his arms outwards

His fingers trying to caress the outside of the moon

And mine laid close to my sides

Unmoving and anxious to trace the outline of his features

The soft jawline

The dark brow

The damaged mind that hurdled like a satellite through space and time

 

He breathed deeply

Letting his breath fog the air in front of him

As mine caught in my lungs

We were both lost in the galaxies of infinite possibilities

Lying just out of our reach

 

So again when he asked his question

“What’s real?”

I wished desperately that the

Shooting stars that filled my stomach

Were not