The Muse: The Literary Magazine of Northwest Catholic

Demeter’s Diary THE MUSE VOL. LVII

DEMETER’S DIARY THE MUSE VOL. LVII NORTHWEST CATHOLIC HIGH SCHOOL WEST HARTFORD, CONNECTICUT 06117 EDITORS-IN-CHIEF:

MADDY HUBERT REED JONES ASHLEIGH LANE

MODERATOR:

JEFF PRZECH

SPECIAL THANKS TO:

CELINA MARQUIS

MISSION STATEMENT THE MISSION OF THE MUSE IS TO PROMOTE AND SUPPORT THE CREATION & PUBLICATION OF ORIGINAL CREATIVE WRITING AND VISUAL ART BY NORTHWEST CATHOLIC STUDENTS. THE WRITER PRODUCES AN ANNUAL COMPILATION OF THE CREATIVE EFFORTS OF NORTHWEST CATHOLIC STUDENT POETS, AUTHORS, AND VISUAL ARTISTS. NORTHWEST CATHOLIC HIGH SCHOOL MISSION STATEMENT NORTHWEST CATHOLIC HIGH SCHOOL IS A CATHOLIC, COEDUCATIONAL, DIVERSE, COLLEGE PREPARATORY SCHOOL WHOSE MISSION IS TO FOSTER IN YOUNG PEOPLE A FAITH IN GOD WHICH GIVES MEANING AND DIRECTION TO LIFE; TO CHALLENGE AND GUIDE THEM IN THE PURSUIT OF SPIRITUAL, ACADEMIC, AND PHYSICAL EXCELLENCE; TO DEVELOP VERSATILE LEADERS; TO CULTIVATE IN THEM THE DESIRE TO SERVE GOD AND OTHERS; AND, TO PROMOTE JUSTICE IN A GLOBAL WORLD.

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AUTHORS’ TABLE OF CONTENTS PAGE NUMBER 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

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TITLE SUN AND MOON SEASONS THE FOREST THESE SECRETS A FROZEN MEMORY PEACE THE HUMAN STRUGGLE COLORLESS WINTER AN UNWRAPPED PRESENT THE BOULDER PRIMARY COLORS UNTITLED COLOR CORRECTION THE SEA OCEAN BLUE UNTITLED SUNSHINE ON A CLOUDY DAY STORM UNTITLED FOUR SEASONS

AUTHOR JOSEPH DEVITO ZOE SHAPIRO AIDEN DENEEN JOSEPH DEVITO JOSEPH DEVITO KIANA WOODS JOSEPH DEVITO JENN LOVELAND KATHERINE DEVITO AIDEN DENEEN JOSEPH DEVITO LEXI SMOLENSKI ADIEN DENEEN JACKSON RINGQUIST MADSION DESROSIERS LOREN DAVIS REED JONES SHIRLEY LOVE MADDY HUBERT

ARTISTS’ TABLE OF CONTENTS PAGE NUMBER

ARTIST

MEDIUM

COVER 5 6 7 9 10 11 13 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

MARY VELAZQUEZ SAMANTHA CASCIANI JACK ZAPATA MARY VELAZQUEZ MARY VELAZQUEZ MARGARET PRICE JACK ZAPOTA JACOB HANELIUS MARY VELAZQUEZ SHIRLEY LOVE ELIZABETH LEBLANC MARY VELAZQUZ JACK ZAPATA JACK ZAPATA STOCKARD SAMELE MARY VELAQUEZ ISA KROCHESKI MARY VELAZQUEZ

WATERCOLOR PHOTOGRAPHY PHOTOGRAPHY PENCIL WATERCOLOR PENCIL PHOTOGRAPHY PHOTOGRAPHY PAINTING PHOTOGRAPHY PHOTOGRAPHY PAINTING PHOTOGRAPHY PHOTOGRAPHY PHOTOGRAPHY PAINTING PAINTING PAINTING

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Sun and Moon When I appear You disappear And when I disappear You appear When I shine You don’t And when you shine I don’t When I am out It is bright all around But when you are out It is dark all around I am the Sun And you are the Moon I wish I could see you more often, But I can’t Because we were doomed from the start, And we were never meant To truly know each other.

So we can only know each other By our light As I pass you by day And you pass me By night.

Joseph DeVito

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SEASONS

I adapt like the leaves of a tree Constantly changing Trying to find my perfect self Sometimes I’m strong and beautiful Able to encounter anything Other times I’m weak I drop helplessly incapable of picking myself up And putting myself back together How do you fix something that falls away Over time through a dark and cold period I get myself up And learn to grow back I begin to feel like I can be the one I want to be It’s takes time and patience but I do it I’m strong and brave Until I lose myself once again I can’t change the cycle But I can always get back to the person I want to be

ZOE SHAPIRO 5 THE MUSE

THE FOREST Tall straight columns Holding a silence solemn A new world every autumn.

A rustling whisper The breeze drifts by As the leaves grow crisper The time really flies.

In the place of many wonders And the site of so much lore Aiden Deneen

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These Secrets If only you knew...

These secrets that I hide.

I can’t tell them to you; You have to find them.

These secrets that I hide Are locked deep inside.

You have to find them.

They will be hard to find because they Are locked deep inside.

I can help you out a little, but They will be hard to find because they Are mine, only mine.

I can help you out a little, but They reside in the darkest depths, and they Are mine, only mine.

I have to trust you since They reside in the darkest depths, and they Must remain hidden.

I have to trust you since I don’t trust anyone else. For now, all Must remain hidden.

I long to reveal these secrets, but I don’t trust anyone else. For now, all These secrets will remain hidden.

I long to reveal these secrets, but I can’t tell them to you; These secrets will remain hidden.

If only you knew...

Joseph DeVito 7 THE MUSE

A Frozen Memory The brilliance of white surrounds me.

Light reflects off of it, making it glossy and Smooth.

The evergreen trees are dressed in it, While other trees stand bare in only Dull brown.

My sister’s cheeks burn a vibrant vermillion As her squinted eyes stare into mine, And I’m no longer able to see the beautiful blue in them.

Her perfect pink coat is slightly coated in white, As flakes fall Gently, Softly, Quietly— Much unlike terrible blizzards of many years past.

We trudge along slowly throughout the gated yard, Every step a struggle As we lift our boots out of one hole, And create a new one while crushing the delicate, Heretofore untouched snow.

We wear layer upon layer of clothing, Almost bursting, Feeling too squished— Like balloon animals filled with cotton Instead of air.

The layers keep us relatively warm, But wetness still manages to snake its way in stealthily, Soaking our feet and knees.

The crisp, fresh, chilling air invigorates me, And the smell of fresh oxygen fills my lungs— Though its chill quickly makes me cough.

I feel my face turning the same blazing red as my sister’s, And Jack Frost nipping at my nose.

Mom says it’s time to come inside, And though we’re hesitant to depart, The heavenly aroma of hot chocolate lures us

By Joseph DeVito Indoors.

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Peace

My eyes close, I daydream about my childhood, Oh, how I wish I was innocent again.

I wish I could go back.

I daydream about my childhood; How different everything is now.

I wish I could go back.

I can’t even look at myself in the mirror anymore.

How different everything is now.

I can’t resist my urges.

I can’t even look at myself in the mirror anymore.

But no one else seems to understand.

I can’t resist my urges I can’t do this alone.

But no one else seems to understand.

The gun goes off; I can’t do this alone.

Oh, how I wish I was innocent again.

The gun goes off, My eyes close.

Kiana Woods 9 THE MUSE

The Human Struggle You think you’ve got it this time, but you remember you’ve lost before. You think you’re finally getting somewhere, but you’ve reached another locked door.

You think that you are ready, but your nerves begin to show. You think you have the answer, But you really just don’t know.

You think that you’ve worked hard enough, but the slackers laugh in your face. You think you’ve finally won the prize, but you’re awarded second place.

You think that they finally hear you, but you’re lost in all their noise. You think that you finally have the courage, but you can’t seem to find your voice.

You think you’ve finally figured it out, but then new problems arise. You think you’ve finally left the nest, But you watch as everyone else flies.

You’re tempted to give in and conform.

But you resist the urge.

You find that you are stronger for it, And from the ashes you emerge.

Joseph DeVito

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Colorless Winter

The world is white and still

A peaceful untouched canvas

An icy blanket covering the promises of spring The whoosh of the wind breaks the silence

Giving color to a little girl’s ear.

Winter is not colorless after all Jenn Loveland

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The Unwrapped Present It was Christmas morning. The young girl and her even younger brother came bounding down the wooden stairs into the beautifully decorated living room on that crisp winter morning. The sun shone brightly through the frost bitten windows. It was only seven in the morning. The parents came down next, finding that their children had already started to unwrap many of their presents. They didn’t mind, though.

After some time had passed, there were only a few presents left. The mother pointed to a box wrapped in beautiful gold-colored paper, and said to her daughter, “Open this one. It’s from your father,” she said. “It’s beautiful, a truly wonderful gift. It’s bright and pretty and full of so many wonderful things like.... actually, I’ll let you open it and find out for yourself.” And so the daughter, her eyes filled with wonder and curiosity, began to unwrap the gift slowly, tearing away only a few pieces of paper at a time.

Just when she was able to see the very top of the present, her father suddenly started to cry, for he knew what he had to do. He got up, went over to his daughter, his only one, and kissed her head, gently taking the present from her. He then walked to the front door and left, closing the infamous door behind him that we all must walk through. He never came back.

And the poor girl was left sitting there.

She didn’t get to say goodbye to him.

She didn’t even get to finish unwrapping her present.

By: Katherine DeVito

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The Boulder

It rests atop a quaint little hill With a quiet dignity, Like an old windmill It sits in silence, never moving Unaware, unassuming Forever hiding, within its core That single most precious ore For everyone looks In raging rivers and babbling brooks In old deep caves with many nooks And deep within that quiet rock Sits a vein, a node, a block Of gold, eternally concealed Aiden Deneen 13 THE MUSE

PRIMARY COLORS Part One: An Act of Hate

Angry, mad, and confused. Irritated, irked, feeling used. Done an injustice, done a wrong— ’Tis hard not to sing revenge’s song.

Red. Torn, sad, and heartbroken. Left alone, no words spoken. Struck by words, struck by force— An act of hate has run its course.

Blue.

Part Two: An Act of Kindness

Loving, giving, and caring. A world of good, a world of sharing.

Inside of your heart, inside of your soul— Showing respect will fill any hole. Red. Tranquil, reflective, and calm. Radiate peace, release any qualm.

Feel it outside, feel it within— Let it flow out, and all will win. Blue.

Always happy, always joy. For every girl, for every boy. The light of the sun, the light of a star— One act of kindness will go very far. Yellow.

Part Three: A Connection Some use the bad red, And some use the bad blue, But what you use depends on you. So the next time you wonder About how to treat others, Just remember to choose wisely from your primary colors.

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The sun is rising up over the mountain. The bright rays dance off the blue lake that lies at the base. The lush green trees that decorate the mountain are swaying back and forth in the wind. Turtles emerge themselves from the water to bask in the sun, and the fish begin to swim about it the shallows. Birds sing their tunes from the treetops all day long until the sun sets again.

Lexi Smolenski

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Color Correction

I climbed into my grandmother’s lap and asked her to tell me a story.

“In the bright blue sky, the color Yellow was feeling glum about herself. Nobody appreciated her and she thought she wasn’t special enough to be included in the rainbow. So Yellow left, thinking that all the colors would be much happier without her.

The next morning, the sun was rising and Orange was panicking because Yellow was gone. So Orange painted the sun, but it wasn’t the right lemony hue. The rays were too strong. Green was tending to the grasses when he noticed that all the flowers had lost their color. Green painted them and frowned. There was nothing special about the flowers, they blended in with the green grass. The colors were sad and wanted yellow to come back.”

I yawned and snuggled into her arms. “This is a sad story.”

Grandmother smiled and continued.

“So you see, the colors needed Yellow. The world was dull without all the colors of the rainbow. The sun didn’t shine correctly and the flowers blended in with the grasses even though they were meant to stand out. Yellow didn’t feel as if she had a purpose, but she did. We need yellow to make the world a beautiful place because, in the end, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is yellow.”

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The Sea Advancing, Retreating Like a soldier in a war Clashing, Mashing, smashing Like a crash of many a car Calm, Choppy, Restful, Rough Like the turbulence of life Unending, infinite, continuous Like our joys and our strife Lapping, rapping, tapping At the sandy shore Always moving, Forevermore Aiden Deneen

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Ocean Blue The blue of the ocean A peaceful chaos The slow churning Crashing of waves

A peaceful chaos Water rages over sand Crashing of waves Powerful tides pull Water rages over sand Leaving a shimmering mist Powerful tides pull Sand dances effortlessly Leaving a shimmering mist The sun rises Sand dances effortlessly The sun sets

The sun rises To the slow churning The sun sets To the blue of the ocean Jackson Ringquist

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The highly anticipated last bell rings. All of the students fly up from their seats and scream “SUMMER!!”. We all launch for the door, and tumble out of the classroom. Papers are flying all around the school like confetti. All we hear is music blaring down each hall, filling each room with excitement.

I meet my friends in the parking lot and immediately type in “beaches near me”.

We scream with delight, ready to be submerged with the salty ocean water, and warm June sun. Every year this feeling of freedom comes and takes me by surprise.

To me, Summer is like the motion of a wave. The wave will reach the shore, linger for a second, and then rush back. The few short months of Summer fly by as fast as a wave receding back to the ocean. One second you’re standing in dry sand, but then the next your ankles are drenched in the pool of endless homework and papers to complete. Each year summer takes me on a journey that I never had in mind. The memories of laughter and sunburn last forever. Even after the wave recedes from the shore, and the friends say their goodbyes.

Madison Desrosiers

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Sunshine on a Cloudy Day The sun was shining, with very little clouds and the birds were singing. The nice slight wind rustled the leaves as the sun beams down, creating warmth. Suddenly, the sun goes behind the clouds and a roll of thunder can be heard. Hoping that it won’t rain, he grabs his beach towel and starts to leave. The wind starts to pick up, and he rushes faster to leave. The sky turns darker, dampening the feelings of many people who were once happy before. Towels start to fly, hats, and umbrellas too. Everyone was trying to run for cover, but no one was as fast as him. As they all reached cover, he said to himself “hopefully it doesn’t get worse.”, and that’s when all hell broke loose.

Loren Davis 21 THE MUSE

STORM Pleasant then inclement, life.

Beautiful then destructive, life.

Light then dark, life.

Silent then thunder, life.

Humid then dry, life.

Calm then violent, life.

Clear then foggy, life.

Blue then black, life.

The extremes and everything in between, life.

Reed Jones THE MUSE 22

I was waiting at the bus stop on my way home from work last summer when a homeless man told me that the only mystery in his life was provided by the human race. When he said that I had a puzzled look on my face and he proceeded to explain without me having to ask why he said that they were all so different and unique and you could never predict what they were going to do next. He compared human beings to animals, saying that they can be easily “trained” to do anything as long as there is some sort of reward in the end. I stopped him mid-sentence and asked him “well aren’t you a human?”. He looked at me with a condescending look on his face and in an instant disappeared into thin air.

Shirley Love

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Four Seasons Shades of red and orange fill the streets The chatter of old friends and new ones fills my ears Fresh air hits my face waking me up and reminding me of reality Soon darkness hits The cold air turns colder White snow covers the ground We patiently wait in anticipation The warmth hits us slowly and then all at once Rain brings new life and reminds us of the beauty of nature The sun brings promises of happiness and laughter Soon these promises come to fruition The sun becomes a constant companion Where the sand meets the sea becomes our television screen The cold days of winter are quickly forgotten Maddy Hubert

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VOL. VOL. LVII LVII NORTHWEST NORTHWEST CATHOLIC CATHOLIC HIGH HIGH SCHOOL SCHOOL 29 29 WAMPANOAG WAMPANOAG DRIVE DRIVE WEST WEST HARTFORD, HARTFORD, CT CT 06117 06117 (860) (860) 236-4221 236-4221 FAX FAX (860) (860) 586-0911 586-0911 WWW. NORTHWESTCATHOLIC.ORG WWW.NORTHWESTCATHOLIC.ORG