The Imperfections of our Utopia

The earth, So forgiving, so plentiful, so generous. Humans, So unforgiving, so unworthy.

As the people fall asleep, The animals creep. The frogs leap. The people count sheep.

The natural agricultural, The behavioral culture. The earth provides for us. We need to be plentiful.

The birds chirp. The sun glows. The grass glistens. The waves disturb.

Our earth like a model. Mother nature coddles. Every turn you take in need of a remodel. Every day is a battle in the perfect utopia. Kathryn Prout ‘25

Sophia Murnane ‘25

Shards of a Woman

If she is woman, she is confined, And only by men is she defined The set of rules that call out her name

Only listening to avoid further shame:

“Watch your tongue, don’t speak too loud.”

“Watch your tongue, you’re acting too proud.”

“Watch your tongue, stop crossing the line.”

“Woman should be satisfied just to be claimed ‘mine ’”

The expectations reaching too high

Like Mount Everest stretching upward in the Chinese sky

A tiny waist to contrast her thunder thighs

A man’s playland for his wandering eyes

Her gaze melts into the soul, But what have these eyes seen that is left untold?

Her mother beaten by her lover again

Her sister forsaken because she greeted the sidewalk after ten

Underestimated and undermined, left unsettled and utilized Underfed therefore underweight, a man’s words brutalized Broken to shards, like a piece of glass, she smiles with all her teeth To be worthy in his eyes, regardless of what lies underneath. Alexis Rainis ‘25

Beauty is what, but power and grace, A sword in hand, a flawless face?

It flaunts its treasure for all to see, And cannot lose or bend a knee.

Corrupting minds with fear and doubt, For Beauty lies from inside out.

Or does Beauty lurk in painful shadows

And force its master to the gallows?

A malformed face that’s doomed to hide

Does not reflect the truth inside.

Tranquility condemned by skin, For Beauty lies from outside in.

But what is more beautiful than I, The creature catching Beauty’s eye?

Delicate, peaceful, soft, and fair

To no one else can I compare.

The forest now rings with a deafening silence

The calm before a storm of violence.

But a scene so peaceful cannot last, This picture-perfect place is past.

A sword to pierce the toughest skin

And claws and teeth that tear within.

Hatred blooms from jealous stares

And Beauty’s blessing has no cares!

Bright red pools from gaping gashes

My orange wings rise from green ashes. Morphing from content to lust, Where once was Beauty, now is dust.

As true as when in past they say

Though pretty, “Nothing gold can stay.”

Beauty blinds and Beauty fades And Beauty wields her evil blades. I call out to the world below “Where is Beauty? Do you know? Books or covers; spirit or skin; Inside out or outside in?”

O serene Long Beach Island,

I wait in anticipation to spend these long summer days with you!

How can I bear them without your gracious presence?

From the time I entered the Earth, my soul gravitates towards you when warmth creeps in.

Around and around like a clock I dwell inside you, blossoming my youth.

Ah, sun, sun, sun!

The moment when you shine the most

The moment my family prepares to load our car as an offering to you

The moment we have finally craved as we pass your one and only bridge

The glass that once enclosed the car no longer present allowing your saltwater smell to penetrate my taste

Your warmth floods not only my body but my mind.

Old feelings of fuzziness gush back to me, Your beauty remains as I lay my eyes on a sight all too familiar. People upon people at every turn I make...

As I lay on your sand: seagulls squawk, children scream in laughter, and the ocean follows the chaos.

Life is truly alive!

It is time when your light subdues.

Your sun crawls into hibernation and the liveliness follows along suit, Yet this an opening for me.

I stay awake, alone wandering the beach, The constancy of your moon and stars laid out just for me

Frozen in time, I appreciate the little lights in the sky that tell endless stories.

Every sense on high alert

Each contact with a grain of sand igniting me

The never-ending noise of your now quiet waves

Calling out for my recognition to your darkened allure Your fumes invading my spirit into a meditative state

My tongue wanting to taste more of your charm.

O, my time is up!

What a pleasure it ‘twas! Now retreating from your fascination, I wonder how I can cope with a million years apart. A journey away that waits for us when the clock ticks again, You are my home away from home.

The cards: displayed. The ends, like dead hair, now frayed. A sweet child of mine now rests, doesn’t breathe, Not a sound. I mustn’t look around.

Oh, I cannot fathom how he, my boy, could leave!

The little white lady, she waits in her dancing dress, Pawing, and I must confess

That the dirty, disguised dog is a coward! Loyalty, I beg of him,

“Don’t leave me and this sack of bones, soon to wear thin!” I wish the man by his side would speak, without his face painted and powdered.

He could have been a star, my star! Oh, he would have traveled so far.

If The Watchers had only watched my baby, If they had paid attention to him like they had their animals, maybe they could have stopped this sky from turning grey. And this man, sitting here, Watching me, why is he lazy?

Yet, the wise look away.

I know it’s chained, free to stay. With those talons he could pick, peel, And pluck at this now rotting flesh. It has the power to, yet it sits and shows restraint, mercy. Like the Woman in Blue’s son, who kept the world from its end, She wore a crown dissimilar to her son’s and was somehow forced to deal.

I’ve heard stories of this moment, a savior born to help the people. My star was born to entertain! Not at the church steeple, But in the red and white stripes of a tent!

Like the savior, a crown where he bleeds out.

Like the savior, as he died the crowd loudly shout.

Like the savior, his mother holds him, and she tells the World, The Watchers to repent.

My star, the tambourines shake for him,

The trumpets of all heavens play, they blast, but will soon wear my skull thin, That sound seeps into my brain. Yet he just sits, this old snake Watches like the rest. Perhaps he is He.

The one who takes, the one who plots and schemes Over my heart He has seen crack and break.