PANORAMA Literary Arts Magazine 2024 B L E S S E D T R I N I T Y
Writers
Ella Mahaney
Cassidy Mixon
Mandy Endres
Mia Leach
Gabriella Carreira
Nora Ahrens
Brigitte Comlish
Morgan Hawkins
Kate Sims
Maria Deirisarri
Morgan Nott
Caitlyn Ymbras
Riley Jackson
Artists
Adriana Umana
Molly Collins
Sasha McGrath
Skye Constantino
Henry Ballinger
Clara Boettinger
Noelle Chatigny
Ava Huebner
Chloe Yang
Bella Dalheim
Kai Elliot
Ashlyn Lester
Jackie Suto
Nina Bowen
Santiago Campos
Sam Galbraith
Katherine O’leary
Payton Skinner
Howie Mandell
Madalynn Henning
Zoey Mueller
Palmer Hope
Shelby Gamis
Jayden Lewis (Alumni)
Gia Navarra
Jessica Bivens
Andrew Schmitt
Molly Collins
Sasha McGrath
Turtle in the Moon
I am Ella the unnoticeable, a hidden shadow slinking through the hallways. I am gone in an instant, like a figure you see in the corner of your eye while walking along a dusk road.
My sulking eyes are unfocused, like those of a night wanderer, as my mind is flying though other worlds, thinking of anywhere else besides here. When the moon cloaks the land in darkness, most can’t help but fall asleep. But a few lie awake in fear of what dark creatures might lurk about. My drooping crescent of bangs casts a shadow over my face and I retreat into it like a cowardly turtle. I curl inwards in my moody shell of shame, hiding my bright face. That face is the face of Ella the loud, a humorous and happy star.
Despite being the opposite of what the world rejected before,
I am still not good enough. When I come out of my shell and display my sparkling bright eyes, I am met with annoyance and disapproval. Sharing my interests earns me strange looks. Whatever group chat I post in, the response is silence. This leads me to wonder if everyone has blocked me. I wouldn’t blame them. I must be annoying. The Sun is bright, sweltering, and hard to look at. Being happy and bright can be awkward and inconvenient, so I tuck myself in my moonshaped carapace once again, where I am safe.
I am Ella, a girl of two sides, but scorned either way. The Sun is blazing and irritating, but a turtle in its shell is boring, cowardly, and barely a step up from a rock. I am Ella, and despite constantly changing, from turtle to sun, and from sun back to turtle, the attitude with which I am viewed remains stagnant.
Ella Mahaney
word explosion
the fear of my own voice became so overwhelming that eventually the words burst out of me pen to notebook, i scrawled my soul onto the pages, blackening them with ink like the sky turning from a pristine, sorbet-colored sunset to dusk.
Cassidy Mixon
Ebbing, flowing, rinsing, Moving, soothing, shushing, Soft blue ribbon
End is dangerously near Down, Down, Down, Over the rocks Rushing, crashing, falling, Screaming sound surrounding
Foaming at the bottom, collecting in a crystal pool below, ebbing, flowing, rinsing with a steady beat of a heart, as if it never fell. Be more like water, who moves on after its tremendous fall to continue its path and follow its call.
W e a v i
g I
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A T E R F A L L M a n d y E n d r e s P h o t o B y A v a H u e b n e r
W
“The man has now become like one of us, knowing good and evil.
TreeofLife
He must not be allowed to reach out his hand and take also from the tree of life and eat, and live forever.” (Genesis 3:22)
Skye Constantino Henry Ballinger
Lily’s Shadow
A flower
Bright pink petals
Proud of her complexion
And of her power
Then he came along
Tore her from her roots
Her withered petals
Brought out her eyes
Made her look smaller
My ugly hue
Oh how I changed for you -gray
Cassidy Mixon
The painting, once so clear, Now a disoriented figure my eyes fail
Perhaps, for this next piece, I will use a different material to co Acrylic or gouache shall do
Something more permanent
I will not allow this picture to escape f
No, this time I shall savor each streak an
Until the canvas is full
And it is time to begin again
Mia Leach
Bella Dalheim
Kai Elliot
Ashlyn Lester
Chloe Yang
Divine Sirens
The night is ghastly still, all except for my heart. Ah, divine silence.
Shadows splash across the stretch of my skin and the silky light of the moon, and lashes of cold wind give me human form so I obey the sirens’ scream. Suddenly a stir, and a voice, the beginnings of a song, the beat of the trees, go one two, three four. two two, three four!
The forest can understand meter and rhythm, they give me human form so I obey the sirens’ scream.
It is a roar, a howl, its the rat-tat of the drums
Droning bugs, tanpuras, crickets in the trees
It’s a screech, a typhoon, and it’s all caught in my lungs In my arms, in my hair, in the cracking of the leaves
The night is ghastly still, all except for my heart!
So I run, and run, while the reeds tear at my knees
I gasp, for air, when my muscles beg, oh please!
But I can’t, the stars flash secrets in morse code about souls and divinity, I can’t feel the cold, oh give me human form so I obey the sirens’ scream.
I lick dry the chalice of existence, sorrow and blissful pain
Joy and laughter, too animalistic and vain, so I stop with a crash, for a gulp of air. I notice, the sky is so big.
It is no wonder why Egypt bowed to her. The night is ghastly still, all except for my heart.
Gabriella Carreira
Sasha Mcgrath
Jackie Suto
a poet’s alchemy is the tight embrace of a last goodbye the sun caressing your fair skin the aching burn in your palms as you carry the snow the sandpaper kiss of your cat the unexpected bite that follows the finger flip from one page to the next the tension of your backs pressed together as you compare who’s taller today the stabbing of your heart as you walk past each other like strangers the warmth as your hand perfectly folds into theirs underneath the hands of a poet they make touch written word they make memories permanent they make pain beautiful nothing ever ends poetically it ends. and they turn it into poetry. this phenomena is known as
Cassidy Mixon
Death of a King
This Man was perfect, free from sin
He rejected the devil time and time again
He surrendered Himself completely to His Father’s plan
Yet at the end of the day, He was betrayed by one of His own clan
With a kiss He was betrayed
And through this darkness, He still prayed Spit at on the street and scourged at the pillar, He remained silent when being threatened by His killer
He was obedient even unto death, And commenced His Spirit into His Father’s hands as He breathed His last breath
He carried the cross that they nailed Him onto And gave up all He had just for me and you
When they took Him off the cross and put Him in His tomb, Three days later the stone was rolled away and empty was that room.
He appeared to Mary Magdalene after He had rose from the dead
And showed His Apostles His hands that had once bled
On that Sunday morning He won the biggest war, He had defeated death, it held no one captive anymore
He gave up His kingly power to die in our place
And His forgiveness isn’t exclusive but for every race
At last, our sins are now washed away
The debt we once owed has now been paid, Repent of your sins for you are forgiven
Turn to Jesus because it’s time to start livin’
Nora Ahrens
Nina Bowen
Santiago Campos
Katherine O’leary
Sam Galbraith
Katherine O’leary
P a y t o n S k i n n e r
Freedom is like a Brush
Freedom is like a brush
Life a painting
No one can rush
Not one other person
Would choose the same as you
Everything you could possibly create is undoubtedly new
Freedom is like a brush
Every decision is a stroke
Each picture is a memory of how an artist spoke
What you do with your canvas
Could make or break your plight
Pick out each shade carefully
Choose your colors just right
Because a long time from now
Your work could be in a show
What decisions you made in life
Everyone could know
You can't erase paint
You can't turn back time
But always remember
Painting over isn’t a crime
Just dip your brush in water
And paint a new scene
So before you know it
Your canvas will be clean
Freedom is like a brush
With it paint what you want
But the little dark shadows in the scene
May always be what haunts
Brigitte Comlish
C L A R A B O E
G E R
T T I N
Howie Mandell
Poetry Sunday at the Coffee Shop
Nothing is more uplifting than the smell of freshly brewed coffee
And the delicate clinking of dishes
As the patrons put down their cups in almost synchronous union
Allowing space in their minds
To take in the atmosphere
poets, vocalists, jazz artists, writers
Anyone willing to wear their heart on their sleeve can take the stage
A ten by six elevated platform
But it might as well be the top of the world
Nothing is more rewarding than witnessing the audience enthralled with their mouths agape
Soft applause and captivated expressions from each Eyes sparkling with inspiration
Nothing makes the heart more full than sharing art with friends
Who used to be strangers
Morgan Hawkins
pantone 365
once the waves were so high they could run their fingers through the clouds the grass so tall it could paint knobby knees kelly green or bloody burgundy the people so kind they would lie to my heart that its dreams were doable my house was hastily painted pantone 365, a shade that made neighbors frown but i lovingly would run my dirt encrusted nails on its cracking walls and listen carefully to the echoes of laughter held like an oath in its corners promising myself that childlike joy would too flow out of my pantone 365 house
once the chemtrails were so pink they were like fresh scars across maiden sky the trees so orange that the sky mistook them for fire and drowned them yes, the world remained beautiful but time decreed that my heart could not my people’s kindness was gone, in its place cold honesty, apologetic smiles they revealed their lies and i learned that Langston Hughes was wrong a dream deferred does not fester like a sore but sear like a knife in gasping lungs tears ran sideways across my face as i watched fire engulf the pantone 365 house
once the silence was so steady that it finished my fears and i rose at dawn a symphony of birds played their instruments in arms of giant oaks i understood kindness took courage and that scars sang of victors pantone 365 returned the walls and the world smelled clean and ready the walls would remember how to echo the harmonies of violins and laughter and i would run my fingers once more across the faces of my past and present promising them all the love that could ever be stored in the pantone 365 house
Gabiella Carreira
Madalynn Hennig
Zoey Mueller
I’m Okay
I love you, I do, and I know you love me too, but I can’t do this anymore. Sure I was the one who wanted this first but now I’m begging for it to end. I feel guilty about this, but we are at a dead-end Maybe in another life, our stars will realign, and we will make it to the end. But for now, I’m okay with our hearts being broken and our paths making a bend. I’m okay with us never talking never talking again and with our relationship coming to an end. I’m okay with us not being close anymore. It’s okay, Since we ’ re going back to the way it was before. Before the laughs, before the late nights, before falling in love, and before I fell out. I’ll be okay, I’ll be okay, okay without you
Caitlyn Ymbras
Perception
the mirror showing the colors of yourself you quite like the way your hue shines so nicely on your fair skin then you walk out the door people look at you as if you ’ re a monster your shades and tones twisting and turning within their eyes you try to erase your tint take the paintbrush and make yourself better oh to live in a world where people are not colorblind to your own true colors
Cassidy Mixon
Palmer
Hope
All Aboard Love’s Ship
A gossamer cloth wraps around a heart
Absorbing its beats, listening to it start
Then a subtle crimson bleeds through
And tastes our essence, judging if we are true
As night digests the sun, it sinks what keeps us sane
And we take Titanic’s hand, knowing the end will wield pain
We measure anger, until it boils
We measure sadness, until it toils
But love is birthed upon alr’dy ruptured seas
Cresting on Everest’s high mountain freeze
One might ask, “Is it worth it?” another might say, “What else is?”
Is it worth a lifetime of pain for fleeting moments of bliss?
In this game, we ask, “could there be another way?”
Yet we know, we will never win if we do not even play
At the end, we might see that the Earth holds no magic
But love is what keeps it a little less tragic
Maybe love is not real, just a follicle of fiction
But we pretend to be saved by its eloquent conviction “All aboard the unsinkable!” we say
And somehow we fall for it every draping day
It is derived from Cupid’s tongue
And it is said, “Love is love no matter how young ”
But in youth, one never knows how much love hurts
That in its most crippling moments, it simply deserts
This truth, this lack of lifeboats, is the only shame
Because love is poured into our heart, before our brain
Yet there is that one moment afloat, where pain slips into the sea
Where cloth softens, ice melts, and lifeboats are empty
Kate Sims
A V A H U E B N E R
Chloe Yang
N O E L L E C H A T I G N Y
The medals, the trophies, the thrill, the “love” our focus on Earth when it should be ABOVE.
Social media, the constant influence, adulterating our minds, our thoughts once full of grace and truth, now are left behind
In this world our worth is determined by the money we make, real joy isn’t sought and the Instagram smiles are fake.
There is a spark of hope that was buried in a grave, but have no fear for the stone has been rolled away.
Fully God and fully man, He died on the cross, and for three whole days the women and disciples wept at His loss.
But on that Easter morning, many years ago, He rose up from the grave, and straight into Heaven He rose. Our sins are washed away, no longer on our soul, the consequences do remain but now we are made whole.
He is the way, the truth, and the life, He offers grace, not just once or twice, but forever and always because on the cross He paid our price.
Nora Ahrens
My Biggest Regret
As I look around the room
I feel your energy loom
And I remember us
Before all the fuss
When it was just us two And our relationship always grew Every second of every day I thought it would continue till our hair turned gray
Until one day everything changed And we were suddenly two people estranged It was as if nothing between us had ever occurred Like we had never exchanged even a word
So when I am asked my biggest regret
I think about us but yet I cherish the time we had
Before it all went bad
And as I look around the room
I feel your energy loom
And I remember us Before all the fuss
Megan Nott
A Hopeless Romantic
She sang as Earth summoned a looming ashy moon Where it reigned upon vapid clouds of gloom
Night settled into each star’s untouched breast As the world opened like arms, coiling into a sepulchral nest
She sang in dismay to the one whom she loved most
As a starry glow rippled across the sky’s sleek coast
She wondered if her heart’s fight would cease And along with it, her mind ease
Winding down her lover’s toll, she wove a loom
One of which that stroked her heart and crept in her womb
A lover’s hand condemned her heart to chains
A kiss, a touch, a memory–was all that remains Sprawled onto Earth’s barren ground
She sunk in sodden dirt, hoping that in her casket, would she be found
Found by her lover, who was wrong for her–that she knew But as she sank deeper, it was only for him, her love was true
Her heart held for ransom, tortured by her mind stripped nude
One could only realize after death, that love would be easier to elude
Take me to my tomb
It is a retold story spilled over, a warning forlorn
Menial shreds of moments, discarded in a crater of scorn
Although it may be so, that love ripped her sail at fatal seas
She could not help, but smile at its spiteful game of tease
It spoiled her bad fortune, masked it with glee, A mind, as hopeless as hers, would love as if promised eternity
Because loving a person, does not mean ingesting them whole, It is loving them just enough to take away their power of killing your soul
Hopelessly loving–more beautiful than not Is truly what each soul has ever sought
Take me to my tomb
Take me to my tomb
The cold chilling moonshine was held in her tears, Each one sparking like a match, coveting the sky in mirrors,
One could never tell if she was ever found Found by her lover, who had her heart tightly bound
Her eyes fell closed, but she knew, living without love would be far worse
She sung “Take me to my tomb”, and with that she fell… through the cracks of her curse
The moon slipped away in pillars of ash Light bled onto the sky, leaking from night’s hidden stash
A lonely flame wavered in the sky
Waiting and waiting… for another hopeless cry
Kate Sims
Shelby Gamis
ALUMNI
Jayden Lewis
CLASS OF 2023
Dreams vs. Reality
An astronaut, a fairy princess, a monster truck, or a millionaire, are all answers to the seemingly simple question asked throughout kindergarten classrooms; “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Unlike my classmates whose answers were often filled with fantasy, I answered this question without a doubt in my mind saying; “I am going to be a professional soccer player.” Now, I have the capability of looking back and smiling at all those who never took me seriously.
I was told from a young age that games are meant to be fun. That no matter the result, win or lose, everyone should have an enjoyable experience. I find myself incapable of thinking this way when my mentality has simply always been, “it is not over until I win.”.
My desk is full of picture frames. The frame most illuminated by the lamp displays a photograph of a man who won. His arms outstretched reaching for his partner in crime and star player, the only person who loves winning as much as he does, his own daughter. The state championship ring, a tangible item from one of the most memorable days of my life, lies in the drawer below the photograph.
Eyes that peruse the opposite side of my desk will discover another image. A snapshot of a girl whose goal is to make her grandfather proud as he watches her from heaven. The toothy grin that consumes her face, the medal around her neck, and the baseball cap that reads “National Champion,” all convey that her goal was achieved.
Despite my competitive heart attempting to deny the facts, I learned that in order to truly win, I would sometimes have to lose. The photos on my desk show microscopic segments of journeys to success that are also riddled with challenges and failures The smiles displayed in the images hide the grimaces that my face possessed during countless sprints, the exasperated screams from not being able to score a routine shot despite hours of training, and the tears caused by frustration.
My club coach, my wisest mentor, ingrained in my brain what it means to be a competitor; to not just compete with others but to constantly be in competition with myself. To be able to handle trials, criticism, and defeat. To accept that my journey will be far from linear. And that championships and medals are simply what people see, not who I am. Because who I truly am is simply a little girl, who had a dream, and has done everything in her power, no matter how difficult, to make it a reality.
Riley Jackson
Way Back When
Nothing alters the chemistry of my mind quite like the repetitive melody of that one song, Oblivious was that small pigtailed girl about the concept of time, Scenes of joy bursting with color, a drug compared to today’s gray happiness, Twinkling eyes as bright as the stars, Auburn hair flowing in the wind as her feet rapidly peddled, The tires revolved faster, but her control was swift, Luck meant winning extra tickets at the arcade, Or discovering that four leaf clovers really do exist, Grammie’s house and the smell of Bisquick pancakes on a Sunday morning, The clock chiming ten, I wish I could go back, Acceptance is only the first stage in growing up.
Riley Jackson
Andrew Schmitt
Gia Navarra
Senior Year
Here we are, the beginning of the end
Each moment from the past is beginning to blend
The year of understanding, tradition, and reconcile
Where the blur of motion, refines to one shared denial
A denial that the end is looming behind the field’s lights
Where the quarterback’s run, made our hearts climb to great heights
Where the glow from the stage will slowly fade
While we take our final bow as the curtains cascade
So many memories, we wish could recycle and repeat With the dissembled notion, that it’s all so bittersweet
The last game, the last class, the last dance All unraveling before us, as we live out this last chance
Groomed into students, tailored into athletes But further beneath, the greatest endeavor was our seats
Sitting next to a stranger, who later became a friend One that we were attached to until the very end
As we are all perched on the brink of the unknown Some may stay close, while others will roam
One day, our years of high school will just be old stories from “back then” And we will remember each other and every moment within
Although the flow of drama always caressed our lives
There is one thing we can agree on, in perfect concise
The simple word that makes this dark age of change brighten
Is that now and forever, we will always be a Titan Love, The Class of 2024
Kate Sims
STAFF PAGE
Lead Editor/Designer: Skye Constantino
Readers:
Nora Ahrens
Molly Collins
Editors/Designers:
Cassidy Mixon
Emily Grace Hall
Moderators: Mrs. Mueller
Mr. Jackson