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