Colors on TV
By Gabrielle AndersonPretty chocolate pigtailed princess
On the floor of her home in the deep south
Watching hollywood white dreams coming to life on her screen
But I never saw me anywhere Now I see me everywhere.
But what about the rest of them?
But what about the Native Americans? We live in our homes on the bones of their people We laugh in the yard over the screams of their tortured We chop down their hallowed trees We slaughter their sacred animals We desecrate their holy lands We destroy all that they hold dear Yet only .4 percent of the time in our homes do their beautiful brown faces appear
But what about the pretty little latina? Mama says “Mija, solo apunta a las estrellas y llegarás lejos”
“Just shoot for the stars and you will go far” But will it be lonely up there in the stars?
Up in the clouds the people look down On brown faces all around But what about the boy with the crush on the football captain?
Smiling faces judge pretty girls He alone stands and stares at another him Wanting, watching, but never reaching Forever consigned to pine Lest he stand in the center of words with knives continued in the online version
Scan this QR code to view the online version of Atelier, along with additional poems that were submitted:
lower school art contest lwinners ower school art contest winners
about this art contest
These featured pieces are the winners of Atelier's first ever art contest. The lower school students were given the opportunity to color from one of three coloring sheets, all relating to this magazine's theme of playing cards. Middle and high schoolers were given minimal restrictions to their art, with the only criteria being that they had to include s playing card somewhere within their artwork. There would be one winner for lower, middle, and high school. The winners received their prize either in the form of cash or a gift card.
high school art contest winner
Lola BurrillDuring chapel time, the sermon preaches for purity and penance, a soul only fitting for heaven itself With promises of redemption and love.
His mouth speaks with force, his hands move with power, and those around me nod their head But chapel is my happy time, a time for true peace, a time for sleep.
My favorite spot was the seat right in front of the sermon, dozing off while he was filled to the brink with sweat
Call me disrespectful but a Buddhist in a chapel is a baby bird learning to keep up with the flock, confused by his surroundings.
For 5 years, I continued this practice For 5 years, I was a saint in a chapel
I believed life should be lived to the fullest, filled with joy And it was all fun and games until my 8th class of the day, detention.
"Tutti"Stress" by Lola Burrill
“Your mental health is important,” they say.
But it was already too late,
For all of our once fueled fires have been reduced to mere smoke Exhaustion drowns us all, burnout persists through each passing day. We each try to hit the ball out of the park, but instead, we hit singles, fouls, striking out.
While school tries to polish us like diamonds, we feel more like crumbling rocks. Our person has been reduced to mere letters on a transcript.
Homework turns from something we dread to something we cling to.
As years increase, so do the expectations, so do the number of eyes on us.
Pressure suffocates us and shrouds our minds in a fog.
The weight on our shoulders is no longer just our heavy bags, No longer is it textbooks full of physics formulas, No longer is it binders crammed with never ending notes, For it has become a more hefty weight: life.
"The Original Oreo" by Aurielle Grade 7At my first house, my driveway was made of a million little rocks. They moved each time you pulled into the driveway They would embed themselves into the grooves of the tires. They never stayed the same.
At my next house, there was a huge rock in the middle of our yard It was a granite iceberg
The yard was almost big enough to ignore the rock We played on it, mowed the lawn around it, we stacked firewood upon it After a year or two, we simply got used to it
The rock stayed the same.
Much of our yard changed during the years that I lived there. Trees were ripped out and replanted Trenches were dug for an arborvitae fence
Every year there was a new array of Christmas lights
The rock stayed the same. As I grew up, the rock seemed to get smaller and smaller, but from time-to-time it still got in my way Throwing footballs, riding bikes, and jumping off of trees got harder when the rock was in the way
The rock didn’t care The rock stayed the same. The rock has remained the same from the day we left it Someone else rips out and replants the trees
The arborvitaes were traded for wooden planks. Each year there is a display of LED Christmas lights
Over and again, a new boy throws footballs, rides bikes, and jumps off the trees
Ignored by the rock, I have moved on The rock is still the same.