Dustin Finer

"You're From Where?"

By Dustin Finer
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 11

“Yes I’m from Vermont, and yes, it is a state.” As soon as these words left my mouth, the true definition of my upbringing flashed before me. It was a warm, sunny day in southern Florida and I was in the middle of a painful explanation to some beachgoers about what it meant to be a local where I’m from: Vermont, VT, the 802. While I had a strong, personal way of defining where I was from, trying to explain what being a “Vermonter” truly means to a pair of blonds who thought I was Canadian was a difficult task.

I tried to start simple, “Maple syrup, bright fall leaves…snow?” I hinted as gently as I could, trying to conjure some primitive, stone-age picture in their indolent minds.

“Oh like Ms. Butterworth!” the more eloquent of the two attempted.

As I gaze into the green field yonder
I begin to wonder
Why we are forever left to,
wander.

And as the field fills with gentle snow
I know that it will slowly lose its gentle glow
And freeze the green grasses gentle,
flow.

O why are we bound to the ebb and tide of the season
Left numb by dense forests of reason
Think once and you are charged with,
treason.

Dear President Bush,

False

By Dustin Finer
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

Stretch out of bed. Into the shower, half asleep. Comb hair, brush teeth, wash face. Deodorant. Cereal with steely spoon and icy milk. Yellow monster gobbles children and spits us back out at: that place.

The world is my backyard
The earth is my playground
The lakes are my waterslide
The rocks are my trampoline
The trees are my jungle-gym

I lounge and I play in my back yard
And all Humans are my neighbors

Monster in the Closet

By Dustin Finer
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

In the dark depth of my closets I sometimes see glowing eyes. If I listen closely, late at night, there is a faint growling mumble under my laundry pile. In the back corner of my closet, behind the old posters and projects long forgotten, a monster waits.

One day Tommy and his mommy were strolling in the park. It was a beautiful day with birds singing in the air.
"How many birds do you see Tommy?" asked Mommy.
"Dunno Mommy."
"Let's count! One, Two, Three!" said Mommy.
As they continued their walk, they saw some other young.
"How many children do you see now Tommy?"
"Dunno Mommy."
"Let's count! One, Two, Three!"

By Dustin Finer
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

“What are you grateful for?” Such a common question, so blasé; the answers always appear to repeat themselves.

“I, John/Jane Doe, am grateful for: family, friends, home, dog/cat, country, peace, lip-gloss, computer, sunshine, happiness and/or health, and/or other items/concepts that bring varying joy and/or fulfillment to my life.” What if one considered that maybe being grateful goes beyond that which is “good?” What if those experiences which many view as “bad” and which they are ungrateful for, could be just as rewarding?

Go
Home
Or
Stay
Terrified!

The old adage: with great power comes great responsibility. With Super Powers comes…?

There once was a box in an attic.
For ages that's where it lay static.
He found things inside.
Filled with state pride.
These relics yelled "Vermont!" charismatic.

Well, He Isn't Laughing

By Dustin Finer
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

“I don’t like him,” I heard her say
I saw him walk the other way

As she pointed, they all stared
He truly felt that no one cared

His heart was sad, his head hung down
Upon his face he wore a frown

She failed to think before she spoke:
To bad it was just a “joke”