Rhyme and Reason 2018
Rhyme and Reason 2018
Cover Photo by Callie Maloney
CONTents 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11
Title Page Table of Contents Staff Page The Girl Water Reflects
Photography Photography Untitled
A Canopy Mirrored Beneath the Moon Lights of Paris
12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22
Photography Life
From Me to You
Toxic Attraction Today We Played in the Rain Flower Field I Feel Orange I Feel Orange Squishy/ Xberry Windows to the Soul
23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34
Rise
Untitled
Strung Beneath A Golden Canopy Photography Photography Loving A Stranger deus sicut homo Stella Drive Photography Photography Photography
35 36 37 38 40 41 42 42 43 44 45 46
Memories of a Life Once Splendid
Photography All is Well/ Connect Mom/ Brown Eyes
47 48 49 50 51 52
When Will There Be Good/ Untitled 2 Will the Tears Go Away if I Hold My Head Back? Genuine (Without a Care) English Rose I Am Hanging Off a Cliff Enlish Rose
Extra Credit
Horses
Nostalgia
Nostalgia
STAFF EDITOR -IN-CHIEF Collete Campbell
Designer -IN-CHIEF Sarah Kallis
Editors
Jaylee Davis Katie Leonard Matthew Raeside Nubia Udoh Photography Nostalgia
Advisor Amy Robinson
The Girl
First Place Poetry Contest Winner
Anonymous
I am in love with the girl who has chocolate milk hair and turtle shell eyes; The girl who carries pockets of sunshine In an attempt to make someone else’s day just a little bit brighter Because she cares more about others than she ever could about herself. I am in love with the girl who sews necklaces of flowers; The girl who smells the roses In a world, full of darkness Because she must be positive when the air she breathes smokes with negativity. I am in love with the woman who has scars to bear; To the woman who is stuck In her head, in the line of fire, in the town she will never call her own Because what goes on there haunts her more than the ghosts of her past.
I am in love with the child with inked eyelashes and lids of black powder; The child who feels twice her age In a way to make her feel worth more than the petty children she runs with Because their whispers send daggers through the gaps of her armor. I am in love with the girl, the woman, the child, who refuses to grow up; The one who will never let the past make her fall In despair Because she is stronger than that. Because she will build a throne of all she used to be And wear a crown of the scars that paint her skin.
Water Reflects Ashley Patton
Reese Pittard
Bryn Foster
A Canopy Mirrored
Untitled Meghan Taner I can’t feel. Sitting in the hammering rain yearning to drown, In something other than my thoughts. Time keeps ticking And ticking And ticking. Depression swims through my body, My brain. Everyone tells me how great the world is, Similar to how a colorblind person is constantly reminded how colorful the world is.
A comparison of two things not normally linked.
Matthew Raeside
The eternal hourglass, ever winding down. We breath our breaths, it breaths its. Climbing through sky, falling though earth, Two worlds, dark and light, join hands. It pushes against the bodies of others, Waiting for them to push back. But they never do. Trapped, confined, yet free, It silently spreads beneath our feet, And trembles above our heads. The Wind jostles its arms, Shattering its brittle limbs. The Wind strips it of its children, Too soon to name. The Wind tramples its beautiful fall coat, Its last pride. It strains under the guilt, Knowing nothing is to be done. So it waits out the eternal hourglass, Ever winding down‌
Beneath the Moon Dr. David Lambert
Beneath the Moon Silvery mist formlessly drifts In a grove where a mouse nervously creeps, Evading enormous vigilant eyes. An owl suddenly drops, Its gray wings softly shimmering, Its feathers silently fluttering, Its deadly talons glittering. And as blessed arrows of Artemis Sink deeply into flesh So does an agonized squeal rise skyward While violet drops soak earthward To feed Her holy trees. Silvery mist gently entwines About a youth bound to an ancient oak, Cords restraining hands and feet. A glittering dagger falls, The druid's white cloak shimmering. And as Artemis' revenge plunges cruelly Actaeon's pleading goes unheeded While his gushing blood flows downward To feed Her holy trees Beneath the Moon.
Lights of Paris Collete Campbell
Life Katie Smith
Like a plane soaring through the sky, You experience ups and downs, but have to keep soaring; Like a scuba diver entering the clear ocean blue, Your eyes are opened to a new world around you, and you have to enjoy every bit of it; Like a rollercoaster, You have to hold on and just enjoy the crazy ride; Like a movie, You have to laugh at the funny parts, smile through the enjoyable ones, and cry sometimes; Like someone looking through old pictures, You have to learn from your previous experiences and keep living life; Kaitlyn Hoad
Like a teenager walking through Disney World, You have to not be afraid to be a little kid again; Like someone who has just been told that they have a month to live, You have to live life to the fullest, enjoying every last second.
From Me to You
Third Place Poetry Contest Winner
Amanda Merrill
I hate feeling trapped by my emotions. They pick and pry at my core, begging for release, begging to be free, And I can’t help but feel like they’re greater than me. I am always Overwhelmed, stuck; this feeling of perpetual stress and confusion and Questions, so many questions. Questions with and without answers, Trying to escape but I can’t let them out, or else people would think me as crazy. But it’s not me, it’s my thoughts, my thoughts that are flooding my being at all times. They are morphing, merging,
melding, my mind. My mind. It is my mind. Why do I feel like my thoughts can control it when it’s distinctly Mine? Look nice, speak politely, be genuine, be yourself, don’t eat too fast, cross your ankles. Gentle, pristine, but masked. A mask, and underneath that mask is a cracked and crumbling frame that sometimes is dwindling so fast that I can’t make it stop. I can’t put it back together. And neither can you. Or so I thought. Someone who listens to every single rambling, pointless thought that has no real substance
or meaning And someone who pries out of me the things I am most desperate to say. Someone who doesn’t understand me, but also does understand me perfectly. Someone who takes me seriously, but also doesn’t, especially when I’m trying not to laugh. Someone who prizes my thoughts as much as his own, my opinions as truths, and my dreams as realities. You’re someone who I never dreamed would see me. Me, out of all people. Clean and crisp from the outside, but an anxious, overwhelmed mess on
the inside (most of the time). But instead of running away from the emotions I plainly lay out for you to see, you roll up your sleeves, sit down with me, and listen to everything I want to say. I know I talk too much, I know I am selfish, I know I am unreliable, irresponsible, slow, and crazy. I know. But so do you, and somehow, here you are. Here you are, your arms open wide, waiting to embrace everything I am. You are someone. And you are distinctly Mine.
Today We Played in the Rain Asia Harris Today we played in the rain, we ran and danced around, we got drenched. We shrieked and sang with smiles on our faces. I now know, that I love the feeling of laughter in my throat, water on my skin and happiness in head
Toxic Attraction Libby Malcom
Flower Field Alexis Solis
The sweet smell of honey penetrates between the knitted holes in my sweater And I fall into a love trance that can only be broken with a touch He said, “walk slow, there’s no need to rush, none of them are going anywhere” I walked with no hurry as I found myself amazed by the beauty surrounding me Spring was in full blossom and my nose could feel it The sun nourished each little soul and they were smiling with joy Bees would suck the sweetness from them and leave them dry But just like giving tree all they could do was stand tall and watch themselves become less and less everyday If you pick one up not only does the connection between its home and food is torn away but also its beauty and delicacy It’s no longer owner of its own body but you have taken control
I Feel Orange Maddie Miller
Squishy Mary Gordon Mulherin
Xberry Asia Harris
Window to the Soul Lexi Swanson
Rise Mykel Tubbs
Traditions unwarranted, unchanged Blood shed to policies failing to Father Time, still the same Hope entrench in a 4-year revolving rotation Justice and prison sentencing showing no relation Currency, scarce among Lower class, ample amount of thoughts and prayers Selfish conniving politicians entrusted as a savior Original policy manufactured, justifying wicked acts by men uniformed in blue Movements we create yet, court decisions we lose Change inevitable, leaders and youth switching roles Hierarchy occupied by wicked souls Bullets, no named inscribed, pierce through bloodlines generations to come Red and blue lights becoming more detrimental than deadly rays from the sun. Protecting an amendment, failing to protect the people Anger growing rapidly, warm hearts freezing over, intentions becoming evil Lazy millennials rise, leaders unmoved, but we will not waiver nor run Our time is now to make a change, the revolution has begun
Untitled Bryn Foster
Strung Beneath a Golden Canopy A beautiful blue fall day White clouds like sheep Graze aimlessly over the expansive blue pasture
Matthew Raeside
Trees with leaves the color of a sunset Pierce the soaring sky As the wind rustles long branches Like a hand running through hair Breaking free to the outdoors I race towards these trees With a cape flowing behind me Which I tie around two trunks tightly I fly into this hammock Strung between the bodies of maples Which erupt from blades Of emerald grass I rock gently with the cool breeze And close my tired eyes Letting the sounds of nature wash over me The sunlight warm and comforting Opening my eyes I stare through the gaps In the canopy of gold Dreaming dreams‌ And recalling memories‌ My hammock, my refuge
Kate Waters
Ashley Patton Bryn Foster
Loving a Stranger Asia Harris
So, lots of people have asked me, what is it like to love you, stranger? It’s loving your smirking smile, long locks, and eyes a gorgeous hue, stranger Each and every time I see you my stomach flips and flutters on cue, stranger I just passed you in the hallway, said nothing another chance I blew, stranger I didn’t mean for this to happen my crush just suddenly grew, stranger Should I tell you? explain myself what can I do, stranger? We’ve never really, actually talked how do I know my love is true, stranger? Well I want to talk and laugh together, because strangely I love you, stranger I’m nervous you won’t like me, because I’m different from you and your crew, stranger I’ll keep this to myself for now, but I wish you knew, stranger
deus sicut homo Jaylee Davis
when I dream, I see god when I close my eyes and let the flames turn to ashes I let the cinders float and fall to the dirt and spring forth from the grass I see her and she looks like me in her backyard, there is a tree old and lichen-infested it is there, under that tree, where we sit sometimes we sit in silence sometimes she sings sometimes she speaks and tells me all the secrets of the Earth she says rain is the sadness from my cheeks; April is the loneliest month the summer's sun bears the radiance of my smile the dirt is my dirt and when I bathe the Earth floods and the dust of heaven comes to the earth as snow you are my child but so is your mother
so is every beast that roams the Earth every winged angel in the sky and every maiden of the sea so long as you belong to the universe, you are my creation and you belong to me when I rest at last when I singe my eyelashes to blow out my own flame do not lock me up in a wooden chest burn my body and sprinkle me among the dust! I want to feel the dirt I want to feel the flood I want the leaves to tickle my soul I want my dirt to become her dirt and I want to be cleansed I want to return to that tree. I want to return to her. She is heaven, she is home.
Stella Drive
Second Place Poetry Contest Winner
Julia Sherrill
Do you remember the thirty-second summer with bubblegum lips and pop rock hearts? the mud hugging our toes in a field singing of forever, the matchstick eyes flickering dancing over veins of gasoline, and the sticky popsicle fingers melting together, learning the landscape of what we thought was love? Because I, I remember the stop-watch goodbye how your muddied feet were stomping dancing out my fiery heart and how I stood scraping pulling at skin that used to know your stick popsicle touch, your bubblegum lips, and the thirty seconds that promised forever.
Ashley Patton
Evan Hunter
Reese Pittard
Memories of a Life Once Splendid Marshall Lynch
11:07 PM, the second hand was obscured by a single perfect droplet of rain; the seconds didn’t really matter anymore now. He was observing the body intently mainly because an incessant thought began to creep into his mind at that moment: she looked even more beautiful in death, supine in pool of blood. The blood on his hands was still warm, but as a gust blew over them they ached like they were covered in ice. Angelic, that’s the best way to describe it; her tan washed away into a pale white somehow purer than the wispy-thin dress that hugged her body and draped over her interchangeably. A truly surreal sight, her eyes were closed he remembered closing them; he could remember a lot of things from that night. The light was harsh and uncaring, an unnatural white LED shone brightly down on the scene as if to provide a spotlight for the spectacle. She had been smiling when she died, he knew that from the contented look she bore, maybe that was wishful thinking. The other girl was familiar but he refrained from
looking for the anger it caused, he started to wish hadn’t shot her, but it was a hasty decision and it felt right in the moment. It really didn’t change things either way. 11:21 PM, he could read the second hand now, he just didn’t bother too. It was really raining now, as if god himself was wearing over the fallen angel. The police sirens reflected off the running water in the gutter, the alternating red and blue casting a confusing glow over the scene. The angel still lay there fallen, so he stared now at the small river of blood flowing into the gutter. When it reached the edge of the light and passed into the dark it became a stream of black. There were many questions, too many, all of them hurt his head, or maybe that was earlier. He remembered wanting to smoke, but his lighter would never ignite in the rain; besides now was a time for action. 12:38:39 AM, little things, it all the littles things that he remembered. He couldn’t remember how he got home
though, funny how that works. Everything that happened after he left that night was a bit of a blur, or maybe that was just the way he wanted to remember it. There was a feeling. It was so clear; a burning-searing pain in his chest, it drove him mad and in his rage there was clarity. 9:30 PM, He was on time same as always and she was late like clockwork, but it was a force of habit for both of them; besides why change something if it works? Click, the mag-lock on the door released and in a moment she was embracing him. He wore black, she wore white, there was a sense of elegance in their pairing and everyone saw it. They spoke briefly before leaving, her laugh was always genuine even though he was never funny. They made their way down the street, passing the first mag train station as usual opting instead to walk further to the next one, this way they could walk by the overlook of the greenhouse park. She loved to sit of the bench and watch the trees and grass through the window on rainy days, it was always sunny in the glass enclosure even though it was fake. The station was always busy night and day, drenched in a nauseating array of flashing lights and colors.
Smells wafted about the place in quick bursts as trains flew past on the rails, the vaguely food-smelling aroma that permeated the air had notes of cheap Chinese food, spoiled piss, and at varying intervals cigarette smoke. The train was as uncomfortable as any of the others in the city, it was a short ride though. They made it to the club at 10:00, the place was swarming with people and the music was blaring loudly. As soon as they made it to the edge of the dance floor one of the her friend weaved her way through the crowd making her way towards the couple. She greeted them brightly and escorted her friend back onto the dance floor. He resigned himself to the bar in easy view of the girls and ordered his favorite drink, before the fix glass was downed she came back and dragged him onto the dance floor. She looked beautiful that night, just like every other night, and he couldn’t help but smile and enjoy himself. After all it wouldn’t be long before it would all come crashing down; but he still had time to happy. Just a little time. And then it’s gone. 00:00:03 00:00:02 00:00:01 “It’s been a long time Sterling” He could never forget that voice, it was seared into his
mind, he still remembered what Jackie said to him that day, “You’ll burn for this you goddamn traitor”. “You look surprised to see me, what no love for an old friend” Jackie hissed while gesturing a sarcastic hug. John clawed for words to respond and finally grasped some suitably venomous, “Fuck you”, and with that the time for speaking was done; now was the time for violent action. Sterling jumped off his bar stool to the left swinging his heavy coat out while he reached for his holster. He was fast, like a striking snake, he had already broken leather by the time that Jackie had his hands clumsily wrapped around the butt of his flashy engraved revolver; an antique pasted down through the generations of Jackie’s mod family. A .38 if John remembered right, Jackie had never shot the thing, it was more of a statement piece than anything. Sterling leveled his piece from the hip at Jackie and sent two rounds from his 5mm automatic into Jackie’s chest and neck, before rolling behind a column and pivoting to his left and unloading on one of Jackie’s thugs. Pandemonium doesn’t begin to describe the scene; the place was still awash in a glittering multicolor light display and music still thumped
as party-goers scurried in all directions. Sterling released the spent fuel cartridge and let it sail through the air glistening as the silver smooth surface caught the light and residual nitrogen gas coiled around it. He loaded a new cartridge deftly with practiced ease and rammed his slide forward forcefully with his left palm to puncture the new ammo cell. Memories of the old days flooded back and the cascade of dejavu sickening him; hits, extortion, fear, and the stench of death, it all came back to him with startling clarity. Jackie’s goons started to swarm like a hive of angry hornets: Two on the dance floor balcony, they had automatics and plenty of ammo, Sterling wished that he had the benefit of a rifle or some heavier hardware, like the old days. Samantha was surely already outside and heading back to the safe-house liked they’d drilled before. As he laid down suppressing fire on the balcony goons the list of people who could have tipped off Jackie scrolled through Sterling’s mind: Johnny, Harland, the Duke, but the list went on for so long that he risked losing himself in the theories, for now he had to fight. As he ran across the dance floor more men burst through the front door; Sterling slid across the lit
surface, ducking the spray of bullets from the goons at the door, and started the electronic fuse on his grenade counting off three ticks before lobbing it over to the door. While he waited for the grenade he loaded AP ammo and emptied his mag into the balcony floor above his, the thumps of bodies confirmed his good shot placement. The fight was over for now as far as he could tell so it was time to get the hell out of dodge. He made a beeline for one of the emergency exits into the back alley, and as he made his first step out into the alley a single gunshot rang out. As soon as the sound bombarded his ears Sterling knew that something was wrong; that one shot held some unknown significance
to him. He rushed around the corner and stopped in his tracks as if a wall had been erected in front of him. Samantha lay on the ground and her friend stood over her with a gun held limply in her hand, as Sterling approached she turned and started to walk forward until her downward gaze his own with horror. Pleas started to flow out of her in a jumbled mess, but before any one of her meek excuses could be formed into a complete thought Sterling sent a round through her head. It wasn’t justice but it felt right to him; another death barely tipped the scale for him at this point. He didn’t know what the feeling was that had started to come over him, it was nameless but it seemed almost like emptiness…
Evan Hunter
Mom
Cheyne Thompson-Quartey I groan at the screeching of my alarm Every day is a struggle to wake up to it It wakes me up when I don’t want to And it goes off when I don’t need it to Yet, it’s there for me It only wants what’s best To be on time To be prepared It may yell at me to do things I don’t want to But I know it means well
All is Well Collette Campbell
Connect Alexis Solis
I love waking up in the morning knowing you will be there I feel the warmth of your skin and your presence, heavy The way your smile lightens up my day and you make me giggle the dimples that press heavy on your face Your arms that carry me after a long day of work and stretch out when you wake up Delicate with every touch, your hands caress mine our fingers interlock and the only key is a kiss on the hand Admiring you is like looking into a piece of art you always miss a piece and stop back to stare
Brown Eyes
Asia Harris
will the tears go away if I hold my head back? Jaylee Davis
Ashley Patton
Untitled 2 Meghan Taner It doesn’t always come at 2 AM. Sometimes, It comes at 2 PM. Halfway through a laugh, As my chest starts to feel heavy. And a rock Plunges to the base of my stomach. I should be happy. Why am I not happy?
there are beasts within this house of mine. this house; this body of mine. creeping and crawling out of underneath across closets out of cupboards out of fresh wounds bandages scars bruises memories secrets, making this house of mine this house; this body of mine their home tingles and fires on my underneath my skin invisible waves of ache and itch that an addict's fingers find an extinguished flame excited to blaze once again relapse.
I clean, I purge, I purify divide the self into smaller selves and to proceed to kill them all the perpetual cycle perpetual cycle cycle as it flows retaliation as weeds in the Garden of my soul they grow and they multiply the internecine battle of self-extermination wages (and I can't decide whose side I am on)
Genuine (Without a Care)
She imagined them gone, without a care.
Katie Leonard
The spring came with challenges, which she tackled head-on. She made it to university, listing aspirations a mile long.
She exists wide-eyed and free, with a curiously long stare, And she runs down the path and lives without care.
But as winter settled in, competition iced the air, And she felt all alone, fighting not to care. She strived to be strong, without a care.
A tummy-filled giggle serenades the tall, dancing grass As she wanders about, compounding ideas to last.
She arrived at her first desk, jittery with nerves, But she calmed herself down, as she remained eager to learn.
Her little, red boots and brown, pigtailed hair Bounce along without a care. She flounced along, without a care.
She spied a freckled young man, with a curious stare, And she instantly knew that he laughed without care. She knew he too thrived without a care.
A compendium of wanderlust swirls about her head Above her brilliant smile and tongue popsicle-d red.
He questioned the blue, gingham ribbon that was knotted through her hair. Then, she replied, “A token of childhood should be carried everywhere.�
That blue gingham dress she always would wear Clothes a wide-eyed girl with hardly a care. She daydreamed so long, without a care.
For she wanted to remember the curiosity-filled air That she knew as a girl, when there was no one to care. He too tagged along, without a care.
Eyes wrinkled with glee, sauntering into her first class. An anxious, suppressed smile only just held eagerness back.
They twirled through the summers, with adventurous spirits. They laughed in frigid winters, both incessantly fearless.
Her joy, so contagious, blossomed into a fanfare Of children who romped with little to care. She passed her glee on, without a care.
They lived to the fullest and joked those who stared. For both were inseparable and lived without a care.
As days morphed to weeks, and weeks stretched to years, Her peers grew unoriginal, and defeat clouded her ears. Her confidence, not shaken, but she let out her pigtails, Ignoring them fearlessly, determined not to care.
Together lifelong, without a care. Years of laughter brought two girls of delight. With their freckled, bright eyes, wonder was bound to ignite. They grew like their mother, trailing confidence through the air. They ignored every judgement and inspired not to care. A family bonded strong, without a care.
As her brown locks fell to grey, and her children had grown, She began her routine walk to the Abbey downtown. While a bittersweet love hung heavy in the air, She traced her gingham dress, reminiscing her tale. She remains wide-eyed and free, worrying not if they stare, Do you forge your own path? For you can live without care.
I Am Hanging Off a Cliff Blake Morain I am hanging off a cliff With sweaty palms and tired muscles The imminent end below Enticing, inviting, and beckoning me To give up. I am able to pull myself up And get back to safety, the surface And I could again see the beauty of this gorge But it is now a sore sight. The beauty once enchanted me I wished to capture a photo, to stop time Until I tripped over a rock, sweeping my feet from under me And now I am here, grasping onto life, asking “Could I even survive again on the surface?
English Rose Evan Hunter
“the title of this poem is ‘can i please have some extra credit please’”
Honarable Mention Poetry Contest Winner
Grace Kelley roses are red violets are blue my math grade sucks my english one too i need an appointment from a man in the senate and should be able to do 60 push-ups in two minutes i should be valedictorian and student council president but none of that’s possible because i place last in all my track events i should be playing competitive team sports and building my leadership skills but instead i’m playing shell shockers and competing for most kills they say i have three years until my “real life” starts that the one i’m living now is just some walk in the park well i hate parks
Horses
Ashley Patton
Nostalgia Hollin Pritchet
As I stood there in that moment I remember that first breath of fresh air fill my lungs. It was the first real breath I had taken in a long time. That day I took into account of my surroundings and what nature had to offer. The sunrise was the first thing I couldn’t take my eyes off of, the vivid wisps of purple, pink, and orange that filled the sky, the image forever sinking into my mind. It’s as if god knew this was a special day, and brought out all the artists in heaven to paint the most perfect scene imaginable. Just for a moment, everything felt like it went silent. My heart paused, my eyes stopped blinking, my hands refrained from shaking, and the clock stopped ticking. I felt untouchable.
I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, getting rid of all the traumatic thoughts in my head, that pumped my heart, making it hard for my mind to make decisions. And yet at the same time, I wanted to laugh and hug each person I loved in this world. I remember yearning to feel this way a long time ago. Almost as if I’d already planned out this moment, sorting out exactly how this would feel, but ultimately it didn’t compare to the real thing. I felt like an actor in my own dream, in control of my destiny. There was a sense of heartbreak and jubilation running through out my body, making it hard to stand still. Flashbacks of me as a teenager started rushing through my head. They felt like moments of clarity. Moments of youth. and getting high off my adrenaline rush. Moments where I wasn’t afraid to drive in the passenger seat of a car, but rather driving my dads car at 16 for the first time.
Moments where I didn’t feel like it was all my fault, but rather feeling like I had the world in the palm of my hands. Moments, all these moments that didn’t feel like they were moments at all. They were life. Time was fleeting, things were happening. How could I stop to appreciate them? Instead, they became memories I’d keep in a storage cabinet in the back of my head that I’d open up one day. And that day was today. Today was happening. Today it didn’t feel like a moment at all, but rather a Saturday morning. A Saturday morning that was much more meaningful than a moment. A Saturday morning that would forever be imprinted in my mind and would mark the day of my new life.
Evan Hunter