By the time I was a sophomore in high school, I had finally found a way to appease the never ending question: Are you thinking about college, and what do you want to do afterward? I had jokingly answered that I would major in English in order to go into the publishing business so I could read free books. To them, it was a satisfying answer. That I was not one of the many high schoolers who had absolutely no clue what they were going to do with their life. I got my first taste of publishing when I moved to Chesterfield, Virginia in 2012 and was accepted into the yearbook. It was completely chaotic. It was also clear that I was out of my element. I never realized exactly how complicated it was to created the yearbook, all the necessary people who were involved. I paid my dues with a year of grunt work, photography, interviews, and articles etc. At the end of my junior year, my supervisor pulled me aside and not only asked if I would be the coverage editor next year, but if I wanted to be Editor in Chief. That summer I attended the Gettysburg Yearbook Experience in Pennsylvania to begin next year’s yearbook. My editor team and I were split into classes based on what…show more content…
Writing that can draw in a reader to join the speaker in the written world as if it were living and breathing. That is not to say I don’t find beauty in the aloof, mind-boggling poems. I just appreciate literary works that the current reading community and those who are new to a journal can both enjoy. This poem is fleeting thought of a woman and her lover as her plane attempts a crash landing during a severe storm. The speaker’s love for her lover is clearly broadcasted with the last three lines, “You only kissed me like a tempest plunges itself / into the border of a larger vortex before the surge / begins. You wouldn’t stop kissing me.” Her pain and happiness reaches out to the reader for sympathy to share a moment that was trivial yet so important to
Writing that can draw in a reader to join the speaker in the written world as if it were living and breathing. That is not to say I don’t find beauty in the aloof, mind-boggling poems. I just appreciate literary works that the current reading community and those who are new to a journal can both enjoy. This poem is fleeting thought of a woman and her lover as her plane attempts a crash landing during a severe storm. The speaker’s love for her lover is clearly broadcasted with the last three lines, “You only kissed me like a tempest plunges itself / into the border of a larger vortex before the surge / begins. You wouldn’t stop kissing me.” Her pain and happiness reaches out to the reader for sympathy to share a moment that was trivial yet so important to
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