Intro to me

If I had to paint a portrait of myself with words,

Convey who I am to a complete stranger….


I would introduce myself by song, and show you what I love

Before I show you who I am.

Show you the songs that I lie awake at night to

Marveling at the raw unadulterated expression in their voices

Hope that you would feel it in your bones the way I do

Reverberating with every lyrical twist of voice

Understand that some can spread their words through the air

The way a painter spreads her colors across a canvas

I am blue, like waves breaking on stubborn rocks

Confident in the knowledge that persistence is the key to erosion

A cerulean spread of my favorite mix of watercolors on my paint splattered jeans

Blue is warm within me, blossoming from the cool spectrum

Sliding lazily through my veins

Crystalline sapphire that drips into a shimmering grey

Like evening rain through dewy windows


My eyes and my hair are born of the same earthy tones

Brown like the soil on the soles of my feet

Stolen from broken branches and jabbing rocks from the forest floor

I yearn to see through cobalt shaded lenses,

But I find comfort in the normalcy of my hue

I proudly boast the gold that visits my irises in the suns bestowing rays


I would hand you my favorite paintbrush and an empty canvas

Some tubes of primary paint

Tell you there is more value in what you put into your work

Than the finished product.

I would more quickly retrieve my tools from a fire than my artwork


I would tell you about how the wheels in my mind

Spin like the tires on my Father’s motorcycle –

Lonely, fast, and with some effort, balanced

How I used to ride the twisting back roads of Pennsylvania on that bike

Wind carding through my hair, the sweet scent of gasoline in my lungs


And This is Where I’m From

Growing up I spent much of my time alone, in the company of my imagination.

“I’ll say goodnight now since you’ll be up there for the rest of the night,” my dad teases, and the usual, “You went all by yourself? Why?”

You see I’ve never been good at drumming. I’ve tried my hand at keeping the beat with the surrounding elements within the song…tried and failed that is. I would much rather sit and listen.

Like a submarine gliding beneath the surface with only a small scope to observe life above, I prefer to keep to myself and observe with my curious, little, brown eyes.

And as I watch I feel those brown eyes grow smaller, smile growing wider—I see good in this life. I don’t see things for what they are, but for what they hold: potential. I see potential everywhere I go, and while this is my strength, it has potential to be my weakness.

They say women are like flowers: delicate and pretty. I agree with this, though I am not the average Rose or Orchid—I am not adorned with vibrant color, sharp thorns, or large petals to make myself appealing or special or exotic. Rather I unashamedly wear my tiny white puffs on the tip of my thin, weak stems, knowing that who I am is simply good. And that is all I need.

This is who I am: simple and introvert, confident in each.

This is where I’m from.


Where I be from Yo.

I am from an empty house that is even too quiet for brain to comprehend where everyone is at, but after so long I’ve learned to stop searching

I am from the bush of thorns in the park that I’ve fallen into and haven’t had hatred for the scars that I had afterwards, because at least those will go away after so long.

I am from the habit of not needing to hold onto anything from the sister that left and hasn’t wanted to talk to me unless it involved cash.

I’m from “Stop your crying, it won’t bring her back.” And “Enjoy your childhood, but remember that you’ll need to grow up sometime.”

I am from a Christian family that can’t relate to anymore, because my faith has been repaired and destroyed to many times.

I am from the attic that holds the photos of the family that I use to be a part of, but now I barely recognize those who I use to know. But those memories won’t hold me down. I will be free whether I remember who I was, or leave the past and focus on the future.

Where I’m From

David M. Behrenhauser

Where I’m From

I am from boxes, from Uhal and Smirnoff.

I am from the multiple changing floors, each with their own scenic view.

I am from the dandelion, the weed of beauty.

I am from a military history and mathematics, from Ferstler and Behrenhauser and Cooper.

I am from the well-mannered mindset and respect to other individuals.

From being taught to chew with your mouth closed and keeping eye contact with the speaker.

I am from a catholic background which I choose not to follow to keep full open mindedness.

I am from West Chester, ancestors originating from German immigrants, with their pretzels and assorted meats.

From the divorce of my mother and father at age 1, my mother moving us from household to household, job to job for reasons unknown, and my father staying in West Chester in a house he did not like, later moving to North Carolina

From a mother who has kept me safely away from the social chaos of our other “family members”, and helped me through my early depression and social awkwardness.

From a father who spent his life teaching us respect, and manners, married his girlfriend and moved to North Carolina, and does his best to keep in contact and support us in our lives.

From a grandfather who never yells, shows utmost respect in every individual he meets, and spends life the best way he can with us even if he works as a mailman.

From a grandmother with bright holy eyes, with a relaxed body pose, she always provides comfort and kindness, as I smile when I walk through the door.

From a sister, who is the better half of me in school, doing everything to the best she can even though she is socially awkward.

This is who I am.




A Locus

A plain semi-slouched walk.

A stutter that slips from my lips.

Awkward tendencies strive through my veins and I’m forced to act upon them.

But the lame appearance is not me.

Hiding within, you can find it in my glass spheres.

You’ll find a forest of evergreens, all built with part of me.

They’re grown with strength, love, and compassion.

I’m inspired by their independence.

My thoughts are beautiful like my violas harmonies.

My frail but handy efforts push through like a bike on a monstrous mountain.

I’m kept calm and collected through long hours of study’s.

Behind the hazel pit is the real me.

Like a locus I’m living an eased life surrounded by muddy waters.

Just Because – Solana Mummert

Just because I am seventeen doesn’t mean that I am inexperienced.

Or that I can’t do things that adults can do, such as taxes and paying bills.

Or that I feel the need to act like a child for the remaining months until I turn 18.

Or that I am immature.

Just because I am diabetic doesn’t mean you can catch diabetes. I promise.

I am not contagious.

I am not diseased.

I am no different than you.

Just because I am a woman it doesn’t mean I can’t do the same thing as a man.

I could get the same job.

I could be into the same things as you.

I could go just as far in life as you.

Just because I smile doesn’t mean I am happy.

The light radiating from my smile a majority of the time is fake.

The darkness behind my eyes is so great that I cannot overcome it sometimes.

The dark thoughts blocking any kind of happiness that I could possibly grab hold of.

Just because I used to be as sad as I just claimed to be… doesn’t mean I have to be anymore.

I can smile now and truly mean it.

I can laugh and not have to be worried about who it disgusted.

I can be me and not feel obligated to care about who doesn’t like it.

Being carefree and happy feels so much better than wallowing in self-hate and despair.

Gary Clark Self Portrait

I am a bright blue painting the sky full

I travel through life as bicycle

Independently making my own path;

A fox much like myself under the radar swiftly moving through high grass

With piercing eyes a greyish blue

Spying a wrestler running by

Putting himself through this enduring run

Greeting his friends

Fitting in with most crowds

With fear of his unknown future

Where I’m from: Walton

I’m from a red barn, where you wake up at 4:30 – 5 a.m. already looking for work to do

I’m from a grey Silverado cranking old country tunes2005 Chevrolet Silverado 2500HD.jpg


I’m from a little white house where you got all the junk food and love in the world

I am frim dirt under my nails, coming from a family of hard workers ever since my great-grandpa

I am from a farm where you go there at 5p.m. and don’t get home till 3 a.m.Bărbat rănit după ce un tractor s-a răsturnat, la Mireş

I am from going to my grandparents every Sunday, watching the NFL with my grandpa and eating my grandmothers good cookingImage result for football

I am an old country song blaring out the window of a pickup truck, driving down the highway going as fast as we can


I Consist of All Things


I consist of a place that is green

Like Mountains, that reach up to the sky,

trying to peak in every opportunity that they get,

but no matter how many people may step on it,

the towering figure still seems to rise and stand firm.



And through the kitchen, I learned my way.

Started inside a bowl I am thrown into a mixture

of cultures, languages, and beliefs all structuring what I will soon become.

Finally, I am just a simple CUP full of love and hope.

Waiting to be filled with what the future may hold

and still holding onto what has come my way.



Even though volleyball is a sport I like to play, it also plays as a mind game

Often times my mind is volleying the idea on my actions and my words.

Being so indecisive. Should I say something or keep it all to myself?


My weakness to others is my sensitiveness.

To the outside world it may seem as so, but to me it becomes a strength.

A strength in love that allows me to comforts others

A strength to seek out the words that someone needs to hear

and the compassion for others.