Delan (Angela) Luo ’19
Yifei (Victoria) Fang ’21
Calliope Calliope is an annual student literary and visual arts magazine presenting creative writing, poetry, two-dimensional, and three-dimensional works of art created over the course of the 2018-2019 academic year.
Marianapolis Preparatory School Thompson, Connecticut 2018-2019
Olivia Duncan ’19
Editors Ana Cristina Rabines ’19 - Editor-In-Chief Olivia Duncan ’19 - Visual Art Editor Gabrielle Wood ’19 - Writing Editor Visual Art Committee Lily Alessandro ’20 Jill Allmendinger ’19 Marielle Caparso ’20 Chiara Faiola ’21 Johanna Sullivan ’19 Kyle Woodruff ’21 Writing Committee Francesca Capalbo ’20 Julia Crosby ’20 Eve Listerud ’20 Lily Mueller ’22 Jillian Ormerod ’19 Rose Warfield ’22 Special Thank you: Sue Andersen Jennie Benedict Shelley Blair Monika Chojnacki David DiCicco Rachel Rogers Kellie Ryan Dylan-Ernst Schäfer Emily Schäfer Robin Stanley Karen Tata Faculty Advisor: Caitlin Dembkowski Faculty Writing Advisor: Patrick Riedy
Shuri Okada ’19
“In diversity, there is beauty and there is strength.” -Maya Angelou Dear Reader,
Welcome to the 2018-2019 edition of Calliope. This school year, we have established that our theme
is diversity and inclusivity. In a world that is so divided by varying opinions, art is more important than ever. Creativity is a function of being human across all identities and their intersections. It brings us together across every barrier imaginable.
When you create art, your background becomes a source of strength. Whether it’s photography,
poetry, paintings, or anything in between, art accentuates individuality. It celebrates the differences among us that make us who we are as human beings. It is a limitless form of expression that allows anyone to lift up what makes them special.
Art is a vessel of diversity. And you, the reader, are its carrier.
Cris Rabines ’19
Alison Tourtellotte ’21
Linh Mai ’19 “Framed Persona”
The cake is vanilla Maybe the cake is vanilla. Maybe the lady ran out of vanilla extract. Maybe she went over to the neighbor’s house. Maybe she knocked on the wooden door. Maybe she answered. Maybe she ended up turning on her car. Maybe her engine veered and sputtered. Maybe she walked step by step. Maybe her stomach cried. Maybe she went into the garden and harvested some vanilla. Maybe she only had vanilla bean, but no extract. Maybe her head began to spin like the tires on her car. Maybe her car didn’t start. Maybe she went inside and made a cake. Maybe she spilled flour over her floor like a meadow of flowers. Maybe her cat stepped in it. Maybe its paws ruined the fluffy flour with rough claws. Maybe the cat covered the furniture with prints like Hansel and Gretel left bread crumbs. Maybe the paw prints were small. Maybe they were small like quarters. Maybe the cat climbed under the couch. Maybe there were 5 quarters under the couch. Maybe that is $1.25. Maybe the lady cleaned up the flour paw prints. Maybe she found the quarters under her couch like it was treasure. Maybe she went to go buy some vanilla extract. Maybe she realized she also needed flour and cat food. Maybe she walked to the gas station. Maybe she bought a red slushie and warmed her soul with the idea of completion. By Jocelyn Madden ’19
Hanna Scheffler ’19 “Self Portait”
Caroline Gardiner ’20
Sara Powers ’20 Flower Murals: Alyson Hartman ’20, Kelsie Haviland ’19, Bartosz Mamro ’19, Christopher Ringer ’19, Molly Romprey ’19, Hongjiang Sun ’19, Jeronimo Vazquez Usabiaga ’20, Mary Wall ’20, Gabrielle Wood ’19, Hehua Xu ’19, Haipei Yang ’20
You Cloud My Thoughts Today it’s gray, outside rainy — inside my head clouds are still and silent, occasionally complimented by the sun. But mostly they create a hurricane of thoughts — Sunday afternoons where the bay meets the ocean listening to you speak as if every word is a humble hymn, a tornado of emotions. And, if I look close enough, each cumulus resembles your silhouette. No matter if it’s rainy or sunny or dry, you whirl your way into my mind. As fleeting as a gust of wind — in my life then gone again. Our horizon distant, my vision fogged. A breath of you, a flood of everything, bitter and sweet. You are gone and the days stand still. By Peyton Surprenant ’19
Emmalyn Pickett ’19
Yaxuan (Lisa) Xu ’20 “Mixed Media Self Portrait”
Alyssa Leveille ’21 “Hibiscus”
Alyssa Leveille ’21 “Focus”
flowers i buy myself flowers not because i’m lonely or that it even matters because it’s not solely those in love who have the power to love a flower and watch it bloom.
Maura Hoban ’21 “Sunset Flower”
By Gabrielle Wood ’19 Alayna Cashman ’19 “The Colors of My Happy Place”
Lily Alessandro ’20 “Gentle”
Jill Allmendinger ’19 “Lotus Lamp, Buddhist Temple Kura Buri, Thailand”
Madison Webber ’19 “Tools of the Trade”
Sydney Kennison ’20
Mitchell Fontaine ’19
Katelyn Jacoboski ’20
Lullaby of Juvenile Pathos When suffering secedes, torment is at its acmeThe Memories scatter, flickering like FirefliesDyspnea empty flesh, was it though, much more, From ‘The Big game, An Internal Great war?’ Footsteps, young, void left starkAn Empty hallway Of Linoleum, and Wood, and Plastera Changeless child Laminated In time, ungrownThis is the Lullaby of juvenile PathosEclipsed, if unsung As Naïve humanity begin to mislay the omensDaze- Suffer- Flout- throw away the broken Start again with the New, pure. Maya Summiel ’22 “my sun, my moon” By Jocelyn Madden ’19 Candle Night Lights A spitting bonfire casts out its fiery red-orange glow, A shining ray of sun penetrating A pitch-black darkness. Time passes until eternity stops, And night shall last forever, But a single candle Can do many wonders. The exuberant radiance of a path of Light Glazes off a still pool of water, Like the stars Reflecting off the Earth. One night, Where every candle twinkles, And the smell of smoke softly peppers the air, For a night, The world can be seen As a brilliant, fiery red-orange glow. For just a night. Eve Listerud ’20
By Rose Warfield ’22
Jill Allmendinger ’19
little brown girl growing up in a big white world how am i ever gonna make it out alive? they tell me “don’t worry, you’re safe” but how can that really be true? when they murder mi gente on the streets when they lock us up in cages like stray dogs when they scream at us to go back where we came from when they decide to obliterate our dream(er)s my latin blood boils when they scare my mother so much that she tells me pon las manos en el tablero it pulses inside of me the beating bleeding indefatigable heart of latinoamérica.
By Ana Cristina Rabines ’19
The Lonely Town The small town that lies lonely in the crowded world, Where first step touches the life of the ground To start the endless adventure of permanent life. The small town that lies lonely in the crowded world, Where birds give voices to calm down the heat of careless summer, Spends its time to play the song from wide fields of love The sound that brings sun to its slumber. The small town that lies lonely in the crowded world, Where love flies through smoke of evening Flies a lonely dot that brightens the blueless blue sky Rewinds through memories of beautiful childhood The small town that lies lonely in the crowded world, Where footsteps leave to chase meaningless dreams Idolize the life that’s not even worth a fragile mind to mind about Where footsteps that used to pass through with love and care Now like strangers who don’t even care to look at, Leave indifference that freezes every dawn. The small town that lies lonely in the crowded world, Where now footsteps miss and want to embrace Where mind desires to be loved Where footsteps come back and always know That the town will embrace the footloose footstep My small town that lies lonely in the crowded world. By Tiến Huỳnh ’19
Shuri Okada ’19
John Madden ’19
John Madden ’19
Tessa O’Leary ’19
Shuri Okada ’19
A Series of Haikus By Johanna Sullivan ’19
Falling Leaves Feel free to fall down, Colored leaves attached to trees, Let wind carry you.
Sofia Hargrave ’21
Tian Feng ’19 “After Snow”
Paper Cranes Take flight paper bird. Sing a song of liberty. Tiny wings play in wind.
Olivia Duncan ’19 “Heiwa”
Tiger Queen Hear her mighty roar, Gaze upon her blackened crown, High above the trees.
Maya Summiel ’22 “us he devours”
Julia Crosby ’20
Jillian Ormerod ’19 “Starry Eyes”
Why Would you Lock the Door? A cold night on winter’s eve. When biting winds ensnare the plain wanderer, and lifeless ground is drenched then frozen over, yet not graced with the peace of snow, nor softened by the life of rain. I approached my house in darkness. Guided by the light you left, flickering dimly in that shadowy cocoon, yet beckoning nevertheless. And I answered its call. The wind whipped across my naked face. As I lugged my pack and other such belongings, I longed for the warmth our house promised, for the ability to see your smiling face, and to begin the work I still had left in store. I stepped upon the threshold of our house, and gripped the knob with cold mechanical fingers, to find the door which I had so hoped to pass, was locked despite the yearnings of my grasp, and remained as such through shaking of the knob. So around my shoulder I slung my heavy pack, and reached inside to grab my lonely key. Though the light you left had shriveled into dark, I managed to fit the key into its lock, and turned the handle to open up my home. Then I crossed the steps into this frigid house, where no light was on and shadow run amok. Where you were not and I just stood alone. In quiet shock because now this home I owned is not for two- your light too briefly shone. By Sebastian Evans ’19
Chiara Faiola ’21 “Empowerment”
Chiara Faiola ’21 “The Book is Better”
A drop of water is on my table. There is a colossal ocean on my table. A menagerie of microscopic life stirs inside with an abundance of dreams and ambitions to achieve swimming through precarious waters attempting to be someone. Unaware that they are small. A crack is in my sidewalk. There is a vast canyon in my sidewalk. It is impossible to traverse the boundless distance without exploring every infinite crevice hidden inside. Each one containing a paramount secret that will go unknown. Unaware that they are small. A zipper is on my backpack. There is an eternal ladder on my backpack. It reaches outward into the nameless expanse creating an arduous journey that takes years to complete. Every tooth is a wrung that inches towards an uncharted crest. Unaware that they are small. A blade of grass is in my yard. There is a limitless tree in my yard. Reaching into the sky to shade the earth and protect all the creatures that dwell underneath, who live in complex colonies forming classified societies. Unaware that they are small. A human race is on my planet. There is a group of individuals on my planet. They are unique and beautiful creatures with ideas that get clouded by violence, greed, and egotistical thoughts attempting to control the extensive universe surrounding them. Unaware that they are small. By Danielle Collette ’19
whispers oh how a house can feel so lonely with a family resting inside and how a church can’t feel so holy unless a believer helplessly abides and how a home isn’t so homey when a child only cries. By Gabrielle Wood ’19
what are we all if not a collection of memories the people we’ve loved those who’ve loved us the things that we’ve lost the causes that we’ve fought for the grudges that slip between our fingers when we’re distracted by this sad, beautiful thing called life what are we all if not evolving growing changing aging and regressing tossed by the ebb and flow of timestepping forward and falling back in a constant motion ceased not even by death when our stories will be twisted warped woven into something perhaps more beautiful untrue, but beautiful pristine immaculate our lives captured and inked onto the yellowing paper of a polaroid picture a perfect moment in which we’re suspended drifting through the memories of the ones that hold onto us what are we all if not vessels full of dreams of visions of hopes of questions we dare not answer of hazy memories constructed on hot summer nights when the world seems infinite limitless boundless never-ending free built on the fragile foundation of truth what are we all if not nebulous clouds galaxies star-systems supernovas of what might have been and of what could be. By Lily Mueller ’22
Who are we
What are we
Are we more than we appear
Or are we these simple beings to unlock doors we never ventured into before When I wake up will we still be here
Do we hold the key to more
Or is our reality someone’s dream
Why is it so hard for you to love Is your heart so cold it can’t be penetrated by my love Why won’t you slow down Take in the beauty before you Would you just slow down Your body emits a feeling of blue My eyes have never seen anything so alluring What is life
Have you really thought about our existence
How are we who we are What came first My body or my belief
The chicken or the egg
What is consciousness Who is this voice in my head The mind is flooded with thoughts
Why does it sound like me
The unseen is truly the unknown
fear I want to know ! Will we ever know what we don’t know
By Justin Cort ’19
I don’t know
Tara Daniels ’19
Johanna Sullivan ’19
Chyna Bullen ’19
Brianne Rett ’21 “French Braid”
Danielle Collette ’19
AP® Studio Art Community Rock Murals
Yaxuan Xu’s sketch for the Spring Rock
Photograph Above (left to right): Tiến Huỳnh ’19 Linh Mai ’19 Yaxuan Xu ’20 Hanna Scheffler ’19 Shuri Okada ’19
“
The rock murals are an extraordinary and eye-opening project for us because it challenges us
in unprecedented ways. First, the murals are community projects, not an individual one. Therefore, we sketch ideas that embody the School’s spirit and mission. However, each of the murals still carry a hint of our personalities and styles. With such an expansive canvas, we learn to manage our time wisely, especially when the Rock has to be done in a week! Despite the harsh weather, unpredictable insects, and impossible brushes, the results are rewarding for all of us because the artworks inspire us to grow our visions and extend our boundaries. Most importantly, the murals are an important part of our community, and having the opportunity to paint the Rock is both our pride and joy.�
Linh Mai ’19 “Spirited Melody”
Poster Design by Shelley Blair
Tiến Huỳnh ’19 “Beloved Things”
2018-2019 Scholastic Art Awards Senior Tiến Huỳnh of Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, was honored by the Connecticut Art Education Association at the annual Connecticut Regional Scholastic Art Awards. He received a Gold key for his painting “Sweetness Kills.” Congratulations Tiến! “Sweetness Kills”
Front & Back Cover Design By Tiến Huỳnh ’19
“Just like these masks circulate around the Mother
Earth, we surround her with our characteristics and cultures. Every single person, every single life is a part of the Earth’s puzzle. Equally, together we add our own unique value to the black and white shades. Together, we create the Earth, embraced by endless universe, where everything should be equal and everyone should be included.”
Next page: Decorative paper by Xuanlin (Linden) Wang ’19