Ursum Literary Maga
Ursum Issue Six
Chief Editor Theresa Abrahamsen
Student Editors Arin Mikalonis Juliette Volpe
Teacher Advisor Mrs. LaPlante
Cover Art by Theresa Abrahamsen 1
Table of Contents Editor’s Note Artwork
5
Summer: To a Child The Nature Within
Anonymous
6
Kate Hosack
7
Isabella Q.
8
Artwork
Natalia Vicencio
Untitled
Anne Brown
Creative Poem Artwork Untitled
Dust and Time Among the Clouds
12
M. Kopf
Undertow
Artwork
Luke Dlugolenski
Emma Hansen
Untitled
Artwork
11
Pensephane
Artwork
J. Max Morris
10
Serra Tickey
John Grindal
Ink on a Page, Notes in the Wind
9
Arin Mikalonis
13 14 15 16 17 20
Erin Panella-Malley
21
Kate Hosack
22
Charlotte McMillan
23
Artwork
Emma Hansen
24
Artwork
Elena Speliopoulos
25
J. Max Morris
26
Found Poem Poem #1
Lily Henselder
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Poem #2
Lily Henselder
29
Artwork
Courtney Cassin
30
Artwork
Erin Panella
31 2
Poem When Things Go Wrong Artwork McCarthy Style Poem Found Poem
Abigail Thrall
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Sophie Speliopoulos
33
Theresa Abrahamsen Isabella Q. Melena Kopf
34 35
36
Artwork
Arin Mikalonis
37
Artwork
Maddy Russell
38
Lambency Untitled Untitled
Madison Flebotte Anonymous Anonymous
39 40 41
Artwork
Ariana Arpin
43
Artwork
Lanie Escudero
44
Artwork
JC LaPointe
45
Anthony DelPrincipe
46
Just One of Everything Artwork Artwork Artwork
Julia McHugh Y. Truntz Natalia Vicencio
48 49 50
Untitled
Anonymous
51
Artwork
Emma Hansen
52
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Editor’s Note Dear Reader, We welcome you to the fifth issue of Granby Memorial High School’s Literary Magazine, Ursum. At Ursum we create an atmosphere for our writers, editors, and readers so they can express themselves in a non-judgmental environment. Here their ideas can flow freely without fear of resentment or criticism. Their writing gives us, the reader, a story. A story that gives us an idea about their hopes, dreams, and their life. Their art paints a picture of how they see the world and the people around them. As the reader it is important for us to open our eyes and step into their shoes so we can understand what they are going through. Then we can reflect on our lives and make connections with them. This is what the issues in Ursum d o for their audiences. We like to thank those who have submitted their work to us. Thank them for sharing their stories and giving us a new understanding about the world and others. Also, we’d like to thank you the readers for taking your time and showing your interest in what your peers have shared with you. Thank you so much. Sincerely,
The Ursum Team
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Anonymous
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Summer: To a Child Kate Hosack _______________________________________ Sticky faces pink with sweet melon Flushed with heat to match the blushing fruits Tacky hands pick at blades of grass Small inexhaustible destruction Little chests heave with breath Humid in the sweet wind of summer Worn out from dreaming in the sand Vivid in the grains alone Flowers are plucked from the ground Pressed between pages and considered By a gardener’s gentle hand And careful eye until next year But to a child, belly up and eyes closed Yellowing crowns are forgotten In favor of today’s warm sun Nevermind what tomorrow brings
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The Nature Within ​ ​ Isabella Q. _______________________________________ Human nature pulls on the spirit, With a strong attraction. Sometimes the truth is diverted By society, By those around us, By the corrupted hierarchy of life. Nature, take me away from the clutter of society Infiltrating my every thought. Nature, cleanse me of the busy lifestyle Imprisoning me within the walls that society has created. Nature, take me to a place where I can widen my perspective Creating a better understanding of the vast world. Giving me roots in my surroundings like a small maple sapling, Spreading its roots toward the water and branches toward the sun In hopes of blossoming into a mature maple that can stand on its own. Clarity found there among the trees A lost mind can find itself in nature Where it is secluded Left with thoughts. Fighting internal wars or appreciating presence on Earth Nature can teach us to accept polar ends of life. The woods can be life in a new light. Look at the city Its industrialization outreaches into the country, Like a wildfire would move through a forest The highway cuts through the landscape, leaving its scars behind. Nature provokes the imagination Allowing for free thinking. Nothing restraining thoughts, Freedom provided by the open skies. Look at the stars, they connect you to the voices in your heart and ground you to the earth. 7
Natalia Vicencio
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Untitled Anne Brown _______________________________________ Making a sacrifice of the fire in your heart For one burning, dying far above The heavens called you home And you always took the sun to be Brighter than your father’s Lessons of self control You loved, you loved, and you lost For only the sea below embraces you now
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Creative Poem ​ ​ Serra Tickey _______________________________________ Small geometric crystals racing towards the Earth Hitting the ground only to become nothing more than a combined mass of slush pushed aside by metal assailants Struggling gloves slowly losing the battle to the chilling temperatures Fingers losing feeling succumbing to the frostbite breaking through wool barriers Sheets of ice masked by the darkness of the asphalt and night Planning its next attack on whoever falls victim to its aggressively slick surface Once green vegetation now suffocated The selfish layer of snow restricts any chance of life for the suffering plant life Frightened people retreat into what they can only hope will withstand the whipping winds of arctic temperatures Watching through pain glass windows feeling somewhere in between amazement and anxiety Though people keep faith that the winter will end and the once flourishing flowers will bloom again The once frozen river will soon flow with life the way it once did The sun will again reverse the damage ensued by the sly hands of winter
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Luke Dlugolenski
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Untitled ​ ​ John Grindal _______________________________________ My head perched upon a thin tightrope. Eyelids oscillating. A deeply colored painting. Eyes fluttering at attention. A scent belonging to some foreign land. I am welcomed by unfamiliar skin. A machine, a monstrous device, casts its shadow. I am left, seeming, minute. Its arms form effortless gestures, guided by an unseen wind. It, with its accomplices, execute their dance. I see view them not with the wondering eyes of a child, but with the feabile, unable eyes of newborn. No understanding, no appreciation, is bred from my attendance at this opera of human accomplishment, of sheer industrial power. In time, their performance is no longer deserving of my unproductive gaze. As their shadows escort me, my perception of them becomes less. They wave me to rest, reducing themselves to a faint recollection. A filthy, distorted landscape. A painting I wish to display, for no one but myself. I sat, unappreciative of their moments. A painting of a grandeur, the likes of which I’d stood next to, yet never felt.
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Ink on a Page, Notes in the Wind Pensephane _______________________________________ A song is just notes Carried in the wind by Muses of music and dance. Music is just ink On a page. Every dot and Every line and Every marking Has meaning. One mark on a page Can mean the difference between Loud and soft Fast and slow Low and high. One drop of ink is all it takes To change the music.
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Emma Hansen
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Untitled M. Kopf _______________________________________ Sometimes my life becomes a vast ocean Not beautiful and warm There’s black There’s me treading water Everything is silent but the waves Each one pushing me further under the ripping tides Desperately trying to catch my breath Boats of faceless figures drift past Never enough room Always empty promises of rescue I was left on my own With people yelling at me to learn how to swim But then a wind rolled in Creating cement walls The higher they got, the lower I sank Another wave grew As I float on my back awaiting the impact A boat sailed by and the face threw a preserver I catch my breath
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Undertow
J. Max Morris
_______________________________________ Imagine the blue sea, Being viewed from a beach. The sun may be there, Giving you a crooked smile. Step into the blue sea, Feel the water in your steps. The smell of a storm is in the air, A thunderclap hangs in the air. Imagine the blue sea, Pulling you into it. The sun may be there, Laughing at your struggles. Every step in the blue sea, Pulls you farther from the beach. The storm draws near, Worse than a hurricane. Imagine the blue sea, Pulling you further and further. The sun is not there, But the Kraken is. No more steps in the blue sea, You’re too far out. The Kraken surrounds you, Then there’s lightning. Forget the blue sea, Imagine a gray sea. No sun, no Light, no Hope. 16
Suspended between realities. Forget stepping into the gray sea, It was a trick from the beginning. The sun the mastermind, And you the fool. Imagine the gray sea, Being viewed from a storm. The sun is not there, But waves all around. Stop fighting the gray sea, The Kraken is too strong. The smell of seawater is in the air, Your mind hangs amidst. Imagine a blue sea, Waking you up. The sun may be there, With a crooked smile. Not steps in the blue sea, Nothing to pull you from the beach. The storm drifts away, A hurricane. Imagine the blue sea, And its inhabitants. The sun is there, Leading the charge. No more steps, The sun blamed you. For the storm and the Kraken, Then there’s lighting. Forget the blue sea, Imagine a mountain. 17
No sea, No fear, No hopelessness, Just freedom. Forget stepping into the gray sea, The water’s clear now. The sun was the enemy, You never saw.
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Arin Mikalonis
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Erin Panella-Malley
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ust and Time D Kate Hosack _______________________________________ The girl and her mother Static on the meridian Fleas on the back of a lumbering beast The beginnings on sunset Rupture the flat horizon and Frame the view in scarlet Cupped hands cradle cool water Russet creatures share dust and time And dust and time She reaches out for her mother’s arm, Tucking into her side as a chill chases The heels of high desert heat The mother cards back mousy hair Dipped in molten sky We can stay as long as you want Peace even until The rasp of dusk gives way To the chitterings of night Shallow grey light sweeping the canyon Ushering out the final pools of Split gold in the bleeding sand
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Among the Clouds Charlotte McMillan _______________________________________ Suspended in the water, the waves lapping against your feet, a mist rises upwards. A sudden pull, and the wind guides you into the air, the waves moving farther away. Among the clouds, the world gets smaller. The sights rush by us, a blur of colors. Close your eyes for a second, and you’ll miss too much. Among the clouds, the world fades away. The wind echoes an empty song. We find the silence comforting. Among the clouds, the stillness overwhelms you. Time passes slowly here. For the first time, we feel awake, we feel alive. Parasailing, among the clouds.
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Emma Hansen
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Elena Speliopoulos
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Found Poem J. Max Morris _______________________________________ I made my way up to the center A slow river traversing down a mountainside A butterfly garden A racehorse Feathers unable to support me. The lights were brighter than any star And just as far I sat down and looked up. A distant Rainstorm Quiet and muted But, it grew louder Everyone grew quiet. I couldn’t let that distracted me I can’t mess up Not again My hand slid down A motion I’ve done hundreds of times. The Rainstorm grew louder Less muted The rain pattered down on the roof Quiet and chaotic Yet beautiful. My fingers moved Like a pendulum Something felt off I can’t get stuck in the past I didn’t. The Rainstorm grew more intense I was in the home stretch 25
I relaxed The Rainstorm quieted down I rolled the potentiometer down The Rainstorm stopped. I finished Everything stood still An eerie silence That was quick. Later I found myself walking Walking up again No butterflies No racehorse No feathers.
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Poem #1
Lily Henselder
Twisted and distorted in the lake waves below. A boat slapped against the water. The sun moved further into the lake. Dust on the boat was washing away in sheets in the current. The vessel crept from the shore. It jolted the water beneath. The woman stood up to survey her surroundings. She dropped herself into the pit of water looming below. The woman could see no end to the murky abyss. She smiled.
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Poem #2 Lily Henselder _______________________________________ The ground beneath radiated heat. Waves washed up, pulling the earth back. The water’s commotion created the illusion of a swaying sun in the rays reflecting against the water. Seagulls intercepted the hot beams of light, dancing above. The woman stood up. Her feet sunk into the temperate sand. She advanced to the shoreline. Her toes tensed up. A cooling sensation washed over them when her feet became enveloped by the water. The waves once again retreated into the infinite abyss. Her toes exposed to the sickly sweet air. She smiled.
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Courtney Cassin
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Erin Panella
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Poem ​ ​ Abigail Thrall _______________________________________ Bright azure sky beamed down. Four girls screaming, laughing. Long hair streaming, swirling in the wind, wrapping around their shoulders. Leapt into the water, white foam arcing gracefully, deep blue waters welcoming them. Gasps diluted with smiles, flipped amongst the waves. Waves urged them deeper and deeper they could no longer stand. Colors of the ocean changed aegean blue to clear crystal faraway beaches. Tropical fish vibrant colors and vitality water around them. Wild eyes dashed fish to fish. Swam in the currents dreaming. Shrieks of laughter splashes. Realized back to shore sea the slate blue crystal ocean a memory of the past. 31
When Things Go Wrong Sophie Speliopoulos _______________________________________ When things go wrong It’s hard to move on. You buy brand new shoes Some very nice heels And you wear them out to break them in And within an hour you’re blistered And feel beaten And you feel broken. Is that your fault? That your shoes aren’t comfortable? No. A fairy godmother did not create a pair of custom glass slippers Just for your feet. Shoes are mass produced There is no way a mass produced shoe will fit every foot. Your feet are not wrong. You are not wrong To be disappointed That things went wrong. Your blisters will heal eventually. For now, try to cope with bandaids And move on.
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Theresa Abrahamsen
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McCarthy Style Poetry​ Isabella Q. _______________________________________ The American Dream became a reality for the lucky ones Wealthy, wealthy, wealthy‌ Money was held abreast as they lay in cold beds at night Rather than those they supposedly loved Reveling in the heat of the public spotlight Obsession Appearances Vanity Perfection is the only prospect Humanity is lost and with it So are our morals
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Found Poem​ Melena Kopf _______________________________________ Pushed without gentleness into the deep swarming rush. Anticipation pervaded through my limbs. While cliches of the romanticized cultures played in my mind. Sitting restlessly on the overnight flight. Awaken by the indescribable beauty. The vermillion gardens of grandiose palaces. In places only read about in textbooks. Soaking in the surprisingly bitter rain on the sidewalks of Barcelona. Crowded platform to the train headed toward the South of France. Cobalt fabric itching against sore legs. White blonde hair perusing the aisle, eyes settling on our lone chair. She sits, puts on her glasses, and rummages through her patched up satchel. Moments later opening up a map of the surrounding area. From the roots of retirement sprouted a strong urge of adventure. From Germany all across Europe. Her box had never been cut open. No husband and little family left gave her the motivation to seize opportunities. Alone facing obstacles made her all the more amazing. One woman. On her own. Living the life she had always dreamed. The last few hours were spent starting at the boundless green landscape. A kind stranger made it all the more surreal.
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Arin Mikalonis
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Maddy Russell
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Lambency Madison Flebotte _______________________________________ While we look up at the night to see the stars, The stars look upon us and see our glow. They’re intrigued, they’re wondering, Questioning the life before them. Small children gaze up at the stars and constellations We named so long ago. They admire the light as they lie under thousands of floating lanterns. Feeling so powerful, so dignified against The lifeless glows in the sky. Be as it may, the stars do too. They cast their effulgence against us As the wonder below replenishes Their imaginations. But as time goes on, the light dies. The stars burn out as they watch The neverending glow of the caverns below, While we watch the starry sky And draw our last breath. Together, the stars and the humans Question one another, pondering the other’s existence. To the new stars, to the new humans, It’s a new world of wonder and imagination. But to those who see beyond the blunt meanings, It’s a world of dying lights.
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Untitled​ Anonymous _______________________________________ These songs she feltChanged darkness to light Understood the misunderstood Created worth in nothingness. And she felt it at once. She felt everything. And she was not alone. No one was.
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Untitled​ Anonymous _______________________________________ A corridor, shrouded in the purest most shimmering white. A foray of windows, doors, rattling passages. They interrupt this canvas, steeped in the most unforgiving black. The majority stand in apparent refusal, solid and defined. Unwavering to the severity of desire, the force of want. Rage swells, not for those which are immovable, but for those in the minority. The doors and the windows and the shutters that choose to move in only the slightest fashion. For it is these that permit hope to develop, to fester. As the passage creeks, it permits only the most minute glimmer to prevail, to leak into the eyes of man, those shields of greed. As though he were animals gripped by the by the palms of dehydration, he is inclined to lap from this pathetic, tepid puddle. This oasis emulsified with a worthless quantity of promise. There he will remain, violently plowing, into this foolish dish. He sips, tainted by an inking of regret, begging to question his place at this satin black, gambling table, this “door.� Still, he drinks, but singed by the flame of doubt. Turning his head back to the door he has chosen, dismissing the others. Merely because they do not give. They do not tempt.
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Ariana Arpin
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Lanie Escudero
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JC LaPointe
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Just One Everything​ Anthony DelPrincipe _______________________________________ An everything is, well, everything. Ostensibly. An everything should contain every possible thing. Laugher, philosophy, tears, nature, plastic, disasters, Atoms, literature, sights. It, however, cannot. Everything, to a person, is merely a selective everything. Everything to the boy is the poem he writes. The hardwood against his back. His fingers tapping rhythmically on the keyboard, Trains of thought whirling past and turning and crashing into each other. In a few hours, his everything will be the blackness of sleep. Then the harsh light of day, Then the sound of his words ringing out the others, Whose everythings, in turn, become precisely, And not at all, What the boy wants them to be. That everything is not real to the woman who lies on her bed, The morning sun casting a pale light into the room. Her pastel blue walls cradle her comfort, The plants she has raised with the utmost love whisper her name softly. The home she has created for herself is her everything. That everything is not real to the tormented man, Who sits in his room, encased in granite, The worries of the whole world bursting out of his skin. Everyday, he is surrounded by vultures Who peck at him, eat him alive, rip his liver from his flesh for the joy of it. This hell is his everything, and he only wants it to stop.
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Those everythings are not real to the Universe Though it has created them from its own flesh and blood. It exists, a default everything, of which not a single person experiences a thing. Pieces are taken from it and created into their own everythings, People building their worlds and memories from the universe’s afterthoughts. The everything of the Universe is taken And changed between mind And changed from second to second. It’s taken and taken again, But the Universe gladly gives.
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Julia McHugh
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Y. Truntz
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Natalia Vicencio
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Untitled Anonymous _______________________________________ We tend to search for self-worth In the advocacy of those around us. As if our own thoughts our own sentiment of the actual significance of our being Isn’t enough to believe. Why do we need others To remind us of our value? Don’t we trust ourselves enough to be the voice of our own worth? To remember that there is a tangible, perceivable reason that we exist? We should. It seems to me we must learn that we are our own worlds. Because this worth that we so desire This perception that seems to make the earth spin Can come from no one But ourselves.
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Emma Hansen
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