The Critical Concerns Through The Art of Poetry

If a plant needs the sun, why are there shadows? Unknown in the roar of the meadows, hidden behind the tall plants above, a simple plant lays unloved.

When the sun is finally shared, the hidden plant is rightfully spared. Tthe water can help it grow, the plant is quickly concealed not to show,

Some plants were born to flourish, placed in a situation not to perish. Some were hidden from the start, with no way of a restart.

A gardener cares for the oppressed, the wilting plant is precisely assessed, but when admiration is in question, the bigger plant has all the attention.

No chance of salvation, an article born into damnation. Some were meant to thrive. Others may not survive.

Future generations will think we hated the polar bear, Or that we must have been ignorantly and blissfully unaware. But the effects are present, each consequence looming. Humanity’s narcissistic, nefarious needs are nonstop consuming.

When Jesus was small, General Sherman stood tall. In the California woods, it seemed he would never fall. We forever sang his praise, but failed to amend our ways. In the California woods, the General’s home caught ablaze.

At the top of the world, stood a landscape of ice, But humankind refused to listen to the experts’ advice. Softly, at first, the ice began to cry.

Then water poured down, like the tears of a broken heart, as the sun filled the sky.

The bees carry the weight of the world on their wings, Yet our poisons bring death to Earth’s queens and her kings. The lions’ roar once so mighty and revered, Now rarely heard because the pride has disappeared.

Spring has arrived, and the flowers have sprung. They dance and they twirl, giving air to our lungs. I implore you to help so they will last for a while, And allow our future generations a chance to smile. Camille Campbell ‘25

Allison Macartney ‘24

Her domain of tears, darkness, and frightful nights, Tragedy to all who threaten her two bright lights. A woman, only so fierce, so strong and violent, Feared by the ones who she has turned silent.

For a man runs if he is so warned, But the fools are left to fall and be mourned. Powerful men so quick to run and hide, All from a woman with the night on her side.

Her one light follows proud and true. The same terror strikes from her when he comes for you. Wings of black, wings of night, Beauty enhanced by his mother’s moonlight.

The other now shines to calm and prolong, For he put the mortals to sleep and dreams of life oh-so-long. Now these two men, they hold their power. But behold comes the night, get down and cower.

The story of her rampage spreads faster than fire, But what is true of my warning, oh so your sharp mind inquire? Yes, I say the truth, Nyx is feared but only if they know. For she is a woman, a woman unrightfully feared, just like you. Aleah Carter ‘25