Editor: Brianna Duffin Editorial Staff: Caitlin Betz (2019) Madeline Betz (2019) Caroline Groves (2020) Kyra Schoeniger (2020) Staff Assistance: Ava McAnally (2020) Julia McShea (2019) Gwyn Philbin (2019) Faculty Advisor: Ms. Suzanne Rudolph
Acknowledgements: The following staff members provided additional submissions, artwork and photographs for this book: Ms. Elyse Barrett, Ms. Sarah Colby, Ms. April Forgeng, Ms. Tess Hartman, Ms. Joellen Keating, Ms. Becky Mackrell, Ms. Leah Richards. Thank you so much for thinking of us! --SR 2
Table of Contents POETRY AND SHORT STORIES: “Alone” by Anonymous
7
“Public Speaking” by Caitlin Betz
8
“Untitled”
9
“Deafness” by Jakob Gibson
9
“Natural Disaster” by Erin Millay
10
“Our Home” by Anonymous
11
“Untitled” by Paddy Broderick
12
“Untitled” by Ava McAnally
13
“Hope and Miracles” by Brianna R Duffin
14
“The Light Up Above” (Excerpt) by Brianna R Duffin
16
“Broken” by Jordan Matsinger
18
“Blue Eyes” by Brianna R Duffin
20
“Where I Take My Rest” by Matthew Monteleone
23
“Start Once More” by Malhila Sadaf
24
“Helpless” by Giovanna Makriniotis
25
“A Day in the Life Of” by Giovanna Makriniotis
27
“A Break” by Brianna R Duffin
29
“All I Know Is” by Brianna R Duffin
30
“We Still Haven’t Spoken” by Jacelyn Miller
32
“Aspirations of a Dying Breed” by Julia Tagliaferro
32
“Like A Cold Glass of Freezing Ice, Sweating Under the Bright Beautiful Hot Sun Melting Away Without Notice” by Bella Monzo 33 3
“Believe in Hope” by Anonymous
34
“El Cuento de Realidad de Amor” by Anonymous
36
(“The Story About the Reality of Love”) (Translation)
37
“The Key” by Julianna DeLucia
38
“Stained Glass” by Anonymous
39
“Swingset” by Ian Kratzinger
39
Excerpt from “Finding My Way to You” by Sarah Wachs
40
“Life and Death” by Evan Carracappa
42
“The Little Tree” by Anonymous
43
“Love” by Ben Gorse
44
“A Seed” by Michal Linholm
45
“A Poem I Wanna Hear” by Anonymous
46
“Did You Hear That Icarus Flies Again” by Emma Yakscoe
47
“It Will Be Okay” by Bella Monzo
48
“Fair Maiden on Her Toes” by Haley Stokes
49
“White Walls” by MaryKate Ardizzi
50
“Nocturnal Creatures” by Parris Swain
53
“Books, Books, Books “by Anonymous
55
“The Whirlwind Titled Life” by Ainsley Spitz
57
“The Quiet” by Anonymous
57
“The Man in the Machinery Part One” by Caroline Groves
58
“The Cure Part Two” by Caroline Groves
58
“The Playground” by Caroline Groves 4
59
“Face of Regret” by Caroline Groves
60
“Rainwater” by Emily Ngo
60
“Shower After the Beach” by Willa Hetznecker
61
“Contained” by Willa Hetznecker
62
“When I Listen” by Varsha Rajan
63
“Time to Cook” by Jack Tsukada
64
“Panic” by Ally McKeand
65
“Ready to Run” by Gabrielle Whelan
65
ARTWORK/PHOTOGRAPHY CREDIT: Kyra Schoeniger: Front Cover Artwork, Pages 41, 42 Caroline Groves: Back Cover (Theater Entrance) Will Hulcher : Back Cover (Truck) John Scarduzio: Back Cover (Pat’s Steak) Anthony Abo-Harb: Page 19 Caitlin Betz: Pages 9, 48, 50 Madeline Betz: Page 35 Amanda Carano: Page 21 Caitlin Carpenter: Pages 28, 52, 56 Bella DelSignore: Page 25, 59 Brianna R. Duffin: Page 47 Peter Francis: Page 12 Caroline Groves: Pages 17, 20, 39, 40, 57, 60, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66 Elena Magidson: Page 58 5
Ally McKeand: Pages 14, 30, 61 Eslina Rossetti: Pages 44, 60 Morgan Ryan: Page 54 Julia Wolffe: Page 43
Back Cover Excerpt: “On Saturday Afternoons in 1963” by Rickie Lee Jones
6
Alone By: Anonymous
Nothing but a cold, dark room.
Peering side to side
She’s here.
Sweating.
Every night in the hallway, she stands
Not moving.
Rocking her head Back and forth Even slower
Tilting Back and forth
Nothing. There had been a sound… I woke up from it, But nothing now.
No one else But me She only appears to me
Alone. Slight creak of the door Alone. Slight thump of the steps My eyes grow wide Aware…
A shadow Slow
Only me
Slight buzz as the hallway light clicks
Long
Not the only pair opens And staring. She’s here
I see it approach. The…something. She’s here.
Standing in the dark, Hollow, Long, long hallway
On. She was there when I closed my eyes. Off.
I look out my bedroom door and see down the hallway Down, down, down
Dark black hair
the dark hallway.
Illuminated by the flickering light
On. Off. I wake up, Eyes with quick movements 7
She stands
A flickering light comes from the downstairs,
Sweat drips down my face No
Not sweat
Too red to see through.
Warm
Whisper She’s here.
Thick
With short breaths
On.
I blink.
A cold wind rushes past me.
Off.
My eyes have a film over them
Whisper
Public Speaking
When words do come,
By Caitlin Betz
they come in unintelligible torrents,
My throat closes as I try
sweeping me off my feet as I try
to speak, to say what I’d rehearsed
but fail to regain myself.
and repeated in the mirror over and over and over.
Why is it so hard to express how I feel? To say what I had practiced?
But as I stand before them, words escape me in the one short breath I take,
I try to push on through, butwhat was that word I had wanted to use again?
the breath that was supposed to calm my nerves but instead sent them racing all over again.
Their faces ooze sympathy, while my face oozes
The tension grows thick as they wait for something, anything, even though I can only deliver empty air. 8
embarrassment. I wish I could get them to glow with admiration but I can barely look up from my
twitching fingers.
has long since gone,
No one is paying attention to
leaving me with only a
what I say, only how
gnawing feeling of failure.
I say it. Then it is over. The ghost of confidence that had
The eyes are off of me…
stood with me when I first raised my hand
and I can breathe again.
Untitled The hellish beast that stalks the night When the moon doth soar in eyes Without fear of sacred light
Look to the tower of gold For it shall never wither Look to the tower of silver
9
Deafness By Jakob Gibson There was once ocean-deafening voices Warming me The hustle and bustle The squeaking of shoes filling my ears But I don’t Hear The train’s screeching Its whistle, its horn They fell on “An empty mind” They mouth “Idiot” “Pathetic” All with plastered smiles
Natural Disaster By Erin Millay
The sun shines brighter than your smile The leaves dance with excitement With you by my side, I knew I could make that extra mile. Then devastation occurred, It’s only nature, Mother’s evil trick. Thunder booms throughout Clouds convene together Foreshadowing a drought. The drought came slowly Slowly but surely, Everything began to dry up With its dusty bits and pieces.
Sunshine isn’t the only weather, Just the forecast you want to hear. No one thinks about the storms that come along. Storms can destroy things, Blowing leveled buildings apart. Did you know the moon and the stars can too? This is something that doesn’t take part When you think to yourself that weather is an art.
10
Our Home By Anonymous
The Earth is a small child, Wrapped up in the blanket of the universe. A rock in a desolate, barren vacuum The residence of life’s inevitable curse.
Our efforts throughout a lifetime, futile or fruitful? Together we journey on the path towards death, An unwelcoming house that lies on the horizon, Consuming all that has taken its final breath.
Alas, the time one spends on the miniscule rock in space, It is like a human limb, It can never truly be replaced. But it is not all that grim.
We are ants of the same anthill. On the lively planet in the Milky Way, The collective lifeforms must find unity. Towards a future with a sky of blue, not the hollow color of gray. 11
Untitled By Paddy Broderick
Lo death revealed himself a throne For him to be seated there alone A villain thou lay, a villain thou lie As the tears of Juliet in somber eyes Doomed the horror of oneself As the untouched apple on the shelf The unspoken wish on his lips Words of a thousand drowned ships. Oh, beasts in my heart arise! The hellish beast that stalk the night When the moon doth soar in eyes Without fear of sacred light Look to the tower of gold For it shall never wither Look to the tower of silver Where men’s dark dreams slither Hear the false profit cry In the midnight hour For all lies of men shall Know fear of a flower
12
Untitled By Ava McAnally
It is amazing how if you look just a little deeper into every person you meet you can see a whole other side to them. I don’t mean that if you look closer into their leafy green eyes that you will see a jungle appear in front of your own; rather, if you look at what they laugh and cry about on their good and bad days, over time the jungle of their soul will grow. -
1:29 A.M. 8-9-16 Don’t be afraid to have dirty shoes; it shows the journey you’ve been on. -
10:41 P.M. 4-3-17
The warm air that almost feels a bit chilly runs along my skin as I look up at the strong, thick trees. They guard the sky of smoky, rumbling clouds like a gate guards a castle. The one thing I think of with this beautiful sight before me is “I wish you were here.” Later, I go home and press my face against the window as the music plays steadily. Bright blue has transformed into a streaky orange and pink painting on the never ending canvas that is the sky. All I can think is, “there you are.” -
10:36 P.M. 4-6-17
I look outside at the abyss of darkness and see the faint warmth of a glowing, yellow orb. I thought it was the sun ready to drain out the darkness but it was only the streetlight that would light the path for cars willing to drive further into the void. -
8:48 P.M. 4-8-17
Live in the now. Never take a moment for granted; other times in the past don’t matter. Wish for a happy tomorrow but love the now. -
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10:40 P.M. 5-6-17
Hope & Miracles By Brianna Duffin I was waiting for a miracle. If I didn’t get one, I was waiting for death. I spent every day for about two and a half years hoping today would be my day for the first one to help me push off the second one. I actually found that it helped to prolong my life. When you’re anticipating something, it gives you more reason to fight to keep holding on. And so I survived two and a half years after my ‘you have six months or less to live’ deadline. Pun intended. Because I’d been waiting so patiently and I needed it so desperately, I finally got my miracle. Dr. Griffin Lucas James strode into my room with a smile and looked around as if sizing it up. Like any other single hospital room, it contained a cot bed, a few chairs, a table on wheels, an outdated television, a radio, a landline phone, a nightstand, some medical equipment and machines, and a counter with drawers and cabinets under it. A door led to my bathroom and another to the corridor. I have no idea what he was looking at with that big ole smile like he was a billionaire in a fancy hotel suite. But he examined the room with a grin on his face and then he looked at me. You better not be picturing a haggard, bald, wrinkly, old geezer hooked up to heart monitors and breathing equipment lying in bed dressed in a hospital gown and groaning as if he’s about to die. Terminal illness aside, I was doing awesome in life. My hair was long and blonde and glossy. I held in a high ponytail that day. My sky blue eyes were focused and clear. I wasn’t wearing makeup, but I looked good without it. I was breathing fine and my heart had been doing alright, so I wasn’t hooked up to any machines. I just had one IV in my arm to show I was extremely sick. I was sitting in a chair wearing a sweatshirt and boyfriend jeans. My feet were bare because I had just gotten a pedicure. I was playing card games with my family and eating pancakes. I felt far from death that day. Hope works miracles. My miracle looked at me and said only one thing. “For a girl that was supposed to die more than two years ago, you look good.” I smiled and told him one thing back. 14
“I wasn’t supposed to; they just thought I was going to.” He smiled back and sat on the bed. “My name is Griffin. I’m a doctor; I just transferred to this hospital. I was briefed on your illness and I think I can fix it.” And that is the famous Dead Girl Walking receded so Miranda Taylor could fight her way back to Volleyball Playing Supermodel. I was back. Of course it took prep, surgery, rest, therapy, and all that jazz to get there. But that didn’t matter. My exceedingly rare, probably incurable, possibly treatable, awfully terrible, terminal illness was about to be gone. I moved out of the hospital and back into my home bedroom a month later and got my life back on track. The very week I returned to school came the next development. Auditions for the spring musicale- which we all knew was really just a musical- were to be held in a little under the month. Since I couldn’t play any sports until after my next check-up, everyone wanted me to do it. This included my parents and much older brother as well the teachers, faculty, and staff at the school who knew my situation. Eventually, my friends were on board because they knew I couldn’t stand being bored and having nothing to do. I suspected someone in a higher place had spoken to them or even bribed them into convincing me to ‘branch out and try something new because my thing was off limits’. While I was at it, I was sure to inform them all, I’d go and make some new friends. Anyway, I auditioned with much support. I wasn’t a bad singer and my years of sports made me a pretty good dancer. That was enough to hide that I got a supporting part mostly because they felt like they had no choice after the big campaign to make me audition because I’d been sick and couldn’t be on any team. We were doing Grease! And I was cast as Frenchie. I had to admit it was pretty fun despite the demanding hours. I was used to practice running hours long and other aspects of an athlete’s grueling schedule but the play business was some serious stuff. But, like I said, it was fun. We were joking around and laughing at each other. The time went by. By the time opening night rolled around though, the director killed all the jokes and worked us to exhaustion. We achieved near perfection almost every time leading into the dress rehearsal. To balance out being proud of ourselves and considered satisfactory performers beforehand, the dress rehearsal was horrendous. However, the director did have one nice thing to say. “You know how it goes: a bad dress rehearsal makes a good opening night. At this rate, you guys are all going to be amazing! Head home and go over your lines one more time, eat something, keep the costumes safe, relax, and get your selves back here at 6:30.” We did so to the best of our ability.
15
At 7:00 PM sharp, the curtains went up and the show began. I remember almost nothing that happened onstage, but I’m told it went off without a hitch. The rest of the shows followed suit and, before I knew it, I was sitting on someone’s couch at the cast after-party. I ate more pizza than anyone else and then I went home. My next doctor’s visit to check on the disease consisted of about three trillion tests, all of which I passed with flying colors. I was good to play volleyball again and I did as long as I could. Griffin ended up becoming a family friend because he was there for me every step of the way during my recovery and didn’t miss a game. My cousin eventually married him so we wouldn’t have to say he wasn’t an official part of the family, and things after that went the way they do for any normal family. That was my miracle.
The Light Up Above (Excerpt) By Brianna Duffin I was going to climb a mountain and never come back down, and it would be beautiful in my eyes, as it should be. On a Thursday morning in April I left home to watch the sunrise on my way to the train station. My journey to peace had begun. On the train I was talkative with stories about a fictional aunt I was going to see for the first time in years. I delighted people with my lies even though I couldn’t force a smile. On the next leg of the journey, I didn’t make a sound and went incognito just for balance. After that, I was finally right where I needed to be. It was a small town with a lot of money coming in from tourism. It rested at the base of my mountain, and I could tell it was the cozy home of kind people who lived quietly and simply. Small business boomed, declared the mayor with pride, but huge companies with greedy corporate capitalists left it alone. I sensed a strong community life from all the ads for block parties, family barbecues, garage sales, church events, school fundraisers, everything. The locals were kind to me, for the most part, and I received an escort to the inn outside town where most climbers stayed if they arrived at a time when they couldn’t immediately embark for whatever it was they were seeking up the mountain. The antiquated place was cozy and multiple fires were going to keep it warm, but my soul was consumed by glacial ice as I sat on my hands, wallowing in anxiety but missing out on all activities. There was no one for miles around who knew who I was or cared what I did. Also, my meds were wearing off. Human emotion was quick to creep in when the pharmaceutical wall against it did not receive its daily buildup and consequently began to crumble. For so long, the pills I took so religiously had kept me numb to it all so I wouldn’t want to die anymore. It was a kind of high and I was coming down for the first time in a while. On the verge of a mental breakdown with nothing to ward it off, I hugged the pain close to me. I would release it on the mountaintop. And then I was outside, standing on my own as the wind chilled my face. I felt free in that moment, as I stared up at the mountain, but a dark knot coiled within me. All the while, a torrential storm of pain let no breath come or go easily. But, nonetheless, it was peaceful. My 16
heart felt like it was not moving at all, but my mind was at peace. Finally, I was at peace. So I slowly put one foot, one foot, one foot up, up, up. Each movement produced a new round of tears from my eternal well- but it wasn’t eternal anymore. Nothing was. I climbed the mountain to its cold peak. And there it was. The sun cracked a whip of soft fire over the horizon as the strings of a billion ballet slippers streamed out to herald its arrival. The sky was baby blue, pure and blissfully far from human touch. Not for the first time I began crying, but the tears washed me anew as I stood there and sank to the ground. Snow embraced my knees like sand on the ocean floor captures a doomed ship and holds her close. I could feel the burdensome weight of each diamond as it whispered its way down my cheek and slithered to blaze a trail on my neck. It was a snake that choked me but was a comforting friend and, after all, was the only companion I had. I had sunk all the way by the time that first snake took his leave. Or was it life, I thought as I watched the second snake jump to the snow and become absorbed back into nature, never to be caught or seen again. Silvery snakes, more honest than I could ever know, kept coming as I desperately clutched at the ice particles. It hit me that I was chasing diamonds, just like men of old times. I breathed in deeply. I had just been born from the ashes of a billion catastrophes and missteps and was desperate to take in “being truly alive�, as they called it. Mother Earth slipped a tentacle into my brain and a hand was laid over my war wounds. It was supposed to be like a bandaid on a bullet hole, but it nestled inside the deep valleys and began to bring healing. My heart was scorched earth and it finally had a gifted gardener. I breathed in deeply. And then I was sobbing, just letting go and releasing infinite tears with each passing second that burned my heart. However, I realized I had no sense of time; everything that existed was measured in tears. Those natural diamonds were my one way of glistening, despite how much they symbolized that my life had failed. It was then that I knew: I was ready for whatever came next. The tears stopped and I breathed deeply, afraid to open my eyes. I stepped forward, from one life to another, my slate wiped clean.
17
Broken By: Jordan Matsinger “Move out of my way” He says with fire in his eyes. The veins in his neck start to show and his hand turns into a fist. “Please stay! Let's talk this out I love you” I say back. “If you loved me you would move.” This time he answered with venom dripping from each word. This caused a shiver to run through my body leaving me glued to the floor. Before I could get my legs to move on my own a force unknown by god moves me 5ft from where I was standing. Shocked and scared, I watch. The once locked closed door flings open and slams shut. With my emotions going crazy I find it hard for myself to actually process what just happened. Hugging myself, I calm my breathing down, wipe away the tears and collapse to the ground. I don't know what to do. A million thoughts cross my mind, “Will he be back?” “Will he still be this mad at me?” “ Is this all my fault?” Shaking the last thought from my mind my phone rings. Crawling across the floor to where my phone had landed moments before I answer with a shaken almost broken voice. “Hello” I whisper, “Pack my stuff.” It’s him, He still seems just as angry as before. “What why?, I say panicked that he finally has come up with a plan to leave me. “I love you” I say before he could answer what and why. He huffs into the phone. “Stop lying to me. Get my stuff ready. I’m on my way back now.” He hangs up the phone. Beep beep beep… the sound of the line going dead sends tiny shards of my once full heart, into the pit of my stomach. Dropping the phone to the ground once more, I pull my now numb body up off the floor and up the steps to my room. I open the full drawer with a mass amount of his belongings. Pulling each piece out one by one, I hold them close, breathing in his smell. Just as I’m about to put the last piece into the bag, I hear a loud bang come from down stairs. The fear that I had earlier came creeping back up my spine and to my brain causing my hands to shake. Making my way back down the steps and to the door I can see his tall muscular frame through the stained glass. His back is towards the door, I guess he could feel me standing at the door so he turned around; his once angered filled eyes are filled with tears; so filled it seems like at any moment they will overflow cause us both to drown. As I reach and begin opening the door slowly it’s pushed open and I stumble back. The tears are gone and that dark look of anger is back. Stepping closer to me and shutting the door behind him, he then leans down and places a kiss on my forehead. “Just because you make me mad doesn’t mean I don’t love you.” He whispers this while wiping a single tear from my face. I'm at a loss for words, I'm too scared to run or scream or get my phone. I'm frozen...again. Staring into his dark oceans I see that I've completely lost the person I once knew. The boy I met in American history junior year is gone; the boy I sat next to in Chem and talked with about Beyoncé had vanished right before my eyes. He wasn't caring and I didn’t feel safe being around him anymore. Being ripped from my thoughts by a hand grabbing me, the hairs on 18
my neck raise. “Please don't hurt me don't you love me anymore?” I don't get a reply just a tightening on the grip he has on my arm. He’s pulling so fast I trip over my own feet which causes me to hit the ground with a loud thud. I push myself up of the ground without lifting my head or connecting my eyes with his in fear of him lashing out again for another mistake I had made. In the corner of my eye I see him raise his hand above his head. Slamming my eyes closed and clenching my jaw I prepare myself for the worst. It feels like forever those few seconds of complete variability.
Nothing's happening. I slowly peak from behind my eyelids only to see that I’m now standing alone in the middle of my hallway. My bedroom door is left open with the lights on. The bag with his belongings is gone and so is he, but in his place lies a note with my name on it. It reads, Dear Megan, I am ashamed of the person I have become. The dark angry part of me that I never wish you would ever see has ended up being unleashed upon you and I am very sorry for that. I love you so much and with that being said I have decided to leave you. What happened today isn't at all healthy. I can't be around you like this. I am a broken person and I blame my past for the way I am today. I've always said I would protect you but I never thought I would have to protect you from myself. Baby, I will never forgive myself for what I did to you today. Laying yours hands on a woman is never the answer. So with this letter I am saying goodbye. Loving you forever and always Todd 19
He’s gone and with that the last of my tears fall upon the letter as I fall upon the floor. I am now broken as well.
Blue Eyes By: Brianna Duffin “Hi! I’m Blue! And, yes, my name is a color. No, I wasn’t named after the color; I was actually named for the musical genre. My parents are from New Orleans. But I was raised right here in LA, since I was little. I’m sixteen now, by the way. This is my best friend, Matt. Yeah, I’m not good at these. I’m sort of new to the modelling world, but everyone says I’m a rising star.” “Everyone?’ This is the first thing my prospective agent has said since he walked into the coffee shop for our meeting and I started babbling. I blush, now embarrassed by my big mouth. Right by my side, Matt- the aforementioned bff and current agent, which is hopefully a temporary position- is red in the face with second-hand humiliation. Oops. I pray the rest of the meeting doesn’t turn out as terribly as the introduction, but God hasn’t been listening to me since my mom died four years ago. Four terrible years of just me.
20
But, oddly enough, Jackson Saint seems intrigued- ok, maybe intrigued is an overstatement, but there was definitely some level of interest- and, either way, he doesn’t run for the hills the next time I open my mouth. But I notice something I don’t like about this man. When I get up, he casually looks me up and down, up and down, up and down. Does he think he has to evaluate my body? Does he think that’s where my value comes from? My typically idiotic first instinct is to tell him off for it, but before I get the chance, he addresses this issue. “If you dropped maybe five or ten pounds, you’d really be a sight for sore eyes. I’ll give you and the guy here a call when I’ve made up my mind. In the meantime, watch the sugars.” And with those words, he walked his pot-bellied fat self out of the coffee shop. Staring at the table with shame, I noticed that I hadn’t taken more than three bites of my low-fat, sugar-free raisin bran muffin. Then I noticed that he’d left his cleaned plate, knife, fork, napkin, and cup on the table along with a business card. I picked up everything.
19 Years Later . . . “Blue? Someone’s here to see you. It’s that guy, the one who runs your agency. Hey, what does he want with you anyway?” “Jackson? We go way back. Send him in.” My new assistant scurries off to do my bidding. Jackson, however, is not so eager to please me. He looks me up and down, just like every Monday morning since he made me his personal business again. “When’s the last time you ate?” he finally says. 21
“Saturday night. Did you get me a spot in the Victoria’s Secret fashion show or not?” “Not. Maybe next year they’ll be interested in showcasing senior looks.” “I am not a senior, I’m half your age.” “Half my age and pretending to be a quarter of it,” he retorts. “Which, frankly, isn’t working. Blue, you’re good-looking when you put effort into it, but you’re not what you used to be. Maybe it’s time to accept that.” “Maybe it’s time for you to let me,” I tell him, even though I haven’t wanted him to. “What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, sounding as genuinely confused as indignant. “If you got me into the spotlight as a 35-year-old model, I could be one. But you haven’t, so I have to make do with the opportunities at hand.” “Yeah, well beggars can’t be choosers. If you looked less like a beggar, it would help both of us do our jobs,” he tells me. I have always hated how demeaning he is. “And whose fault is it that I look like a beggar? Whose fault is it that I eat twice a week? Whose bright idea was it anyway to put my financial sacrifice happen in the food department?” I ask him, getting angrier with each hungry word. “Oh, yeah, yours!” “Come on, Blue, don’t give me that; you know I’ve always done what’s best for you. Now where’s the nice, grateful side?” His agitation fades to annoyance, tired of this. No-- tired of me. “Grateful?! You expect me to be grateful to you?” “I’ve given you everything!” he shouts. “You are nothing without Jackson Saint! Do you hear me, you spoiled brat? Nothing! You’re nothing,” he spits when he talks. I lose control. So I lunge.
It is some time later that I realize what has just happened and later still that I accept it, because it’s true: Jackson Saint is dead. And no one but me knows why. But my assistant. She knows he showed up here today, she may have heard a fight. She may have called the cops on me already. I run to the door and peek out, but all I see is an empty room. I close the door and lean against it, trying to calm my racing mind. And I think, “I’m not the victim . . .” I am not the victim; not today, not ever again now. I’m not the victim. For once in her miserable failure of a life, Blue is not the victim. Blue did not let herself be trampled underfoot, she stood up for herself. And killed a man, but that’s not the point. But what does Blue do about the fact 22
that she killed Jackson because she felt like it? Or in self-defense, or in a fit of mentallydisturbed rage likely due to her familial history of such mental illness? However you want to spin the tale, only you can tell. While I nurtured that brain seed, I also realized I had a dead body to deal with. Alright, Blue, last chance to cry self-defense and potentially save yourself a lot of trouble or bring it. There was a back alley behind the building with dumpsters that were emptied about once a month, if the scum of the area was lucky or someone reminded the city maintenance crews that this part existed and was also their responsibility. It had just been emptied, I remembered. If I could drag Jackson’s body out of one room, across the next, out the door, and at least partially down the stairs, I could then heave him where he likely would not be found for some time, if ever. So I hauled his obese, deadweight and heaved it in. Now exhausted, I decided some further measures would be beneficial just in case. With this in mind, I removed his wallet, ring, custom-made tie, and toupee so that he could not be identified. Now past my rage, I couldn’t help but feel a little remorse for the man I’d known nearly two decades.
Where I Take My Rest By Matthew Monteleone Where I take my rest, There will be no anger Only quiet In the world that I create At last, my eyes are closed, So a hand reaches out to me. I take it And it brings me into the light Where I take my rest, There is no war, Only peace In a land I can call home There is a lake Full of cerulean water And tall mountains Where I can build my house
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Where I take my rest, There are many animals To keep me company And the deer become my friends Right there, in those mountains Behind that lake, The sky is blue And I can finally sleep Where I take my rest, I will stay there forever Always watching, With a smile, The world that I once lived in.
Start Once More By Malhila Sadaf Boxes, duct tape, bubble wrap, rope At this point, it seems as if I’d lost all hope Everything was already set Did anyone even ask me how I feel about this move yet? She said, “stop worrying”, he said, “don’t be disheartened” I feel sick, it was too late, the cloud over my emotions had already darkened Snap after snap, text after text, everyone was as shocked as I They were left unopened, unread, was I supposed to already say goodbye? I was told that this was a new chapter to my life Who knew my life was merely a book, was it really as easy as spreading butter with a bread knife? Making new connections is really not my aptitude 24
It is very complicated you see, I don’t mean to sound rude All this stress doesn’t make this easy As if the lack of time didn’t already make me queasy I look at my room, tears roll down my cheek
Helpless By Giovanna Makriniotis The endless lifestyle of a young girl and her family, trapped in a place by one man, with fear as their only guide. Hiding under her bed in the back room, Alice covers her face, but the images flow freely behind her eyes. The tires skid across the gravel and the slam of the car door soon follows. She hears the sound of someone teetering on gravel as pebbles skitter roughly across the ground. The front door creaks wildly and large footsteps pummel the floor. Deep growls erupt from the intruding beast as he grabs at anything he can manage to lift and throw. Not too long before, Alice’s mother shoved her brother into his room. Her mother drags her past his door to her bedroom down the way. Alice resisted, her longing to help evident by her pleas, but her 25
mother pushed her in all the same. Her mother now stands guard down the hall like a dog does its pack. Alice feels her mother shiver and flinch; one thing after another hits the wall and cracks, silent tears fall from her brother’s eyes. It’s all been seen before. Her mother strains to stand her ground. He yells and harms, but her mother doesn’t budge. Alice turns her head suddenly towards the window. It’s her only escape. She squirms out into the open floor and hauls herself off the floor, all while the pummeling continues a few feet away. Alice runs to the wall and drags her arms across the dresser, knocking all of her trinkets and toys down into a heap. She crawls up on her knees and unlocks the window, shoving it upwards. It doesn’t open. She tries again and again, now more sure than ever that she must escape. She jumps off the dresser and frantically looks about her room. There. Her eyes land on the lamp in the corner. Alice yanks the wire from the wall and drags it towards the window again. Lifting it above her head, she forces it down with all her might and shatters the glass. She stops, worried he heard her, but the fighting goes on. She kicks the excess glass away and climbs through the window backwards. Holding onto the window ledge with her hands, she drops down into the untamed grass. Alice hesitates and stares at the stone wall, listening to him finally open her bedroom door with a loud crack. At that moment she runs. She runs fast, memories flooding through her mind, all full of sadness and terror. Her foot catches a hole in the ground and she lets herself fall. Alice lets out a sob but stifles it with her sleeve. She lies there, seemingly unable to bring herself to her feet. She’s the one who ran, the one who dashed across the field, the one who left them behind. She abandoned the only ones she loves, in the process of her escape. Alice reaches out towards the house, as if she has the strength and will to go back. She can’t. The images continue to flash in her mind; the slam of the door, the shatter of a bottle, the shouts and cries of anguish. Every single day. Terror drove her out before she could suffer the pain all over again, but the emotions still linger. Alice lays her head down slowly on the dry blades of grass and lets the tears trickle down the side of her face. She thinks back to the poem her mother wrote for her and her brother and sings it quietly. Close your eyes. Rest your head. The day will come. Think of tomorrow instead.
Block out the noise and listen to my voice. This is our home. So why not let us rejoice?
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Just a little longer we must stay. Do not panic. Soon everything will be okay.
A Day in the Life of... By Giovanna Makriniotis
Morning. The blinding light shines through the curtains on the wall, gluing your eyes shut. You lift yourself up, only to stumble through the morning.
You stand in the mirror, studying the strange creatures on your face. You wonder, “How did they get here? When do they leave?” Frowning, you turn. You walk away. Disgusting.
School. The rock you’re lugging 27
hits the back of your legs. You begin to focus on your walk and falter in your steps. Heads turn. Stares harden. Voices cackle. Your head spins on your neck. Your pencil keeps breaking as you pump the lead out. No one moves. The room is silent. You can hear your ragged breath explode, so you hold your breath. Embarrassment.
Outdoors. Bitter wind bites your face making your eyes water. “I’m not crying,” you scream in your head. You’re not ready for the walk home, so you stop and wait in place.
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A Break By Brianna Duffin Have you ever felt it all just building up inside of you For so many years That you just know you’ll have to break down eventually And you don’t know when But eventually you’ll break. But you’re trying really hard not to, So hard you kind of convince yourself That maybe you can hold it together just a bit longer, Long enough. And then all of a sudden something happens, Something so small it probably went unnoticed, But something so big it was enough to break you? The hell straw that broke the broken horse’s back And all of a sudden everything comes flooding back And you’re in the middle of a breakdown, Praying that maybe this time someone will care, Maybe the right person will see, Maybe someone will at least try to understand, But no. Because you’re only broken on the inside And there’s really nothing wrong.
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All I Know Is By Brianna Duffin All I know is I’m waiting for something Something that won’t happen All I know is I’m hoping for something Something that can’t happen All I know is I’m praying for something Something that won’t happen
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All I know is I’m wishing for something Something that can’t happen
All I know is I’m paying for something Something that won’t happen
All I know is I’m dying for something Something that can’t happen
All I know is I’m fighting for something Something that won’t happen
All I know is I’m trying for something Something that can’t happen
And if I feel something coming my way I will surely doubt myself a thousand times over And so this will remain all I can know. I cannot know myself I cannot know the truth 31
I cannot know a thing All I know is I’m here for something. Or perhaps. . . Someone.
We Still Haven’t Spoken By Jacelyn Miller When I see you, it still hurts, I won’t lie. You made me love you with the things you said but it didn’t work because you would never try, and you will never know the tears I have shed. All this time you were just playing with me you only loved the fact that I loved you. Without you here I feel sad, but free. I am stronger after all you put me through. Yet, I will still remember you fondly. I will probably still melt at your smile and always wonder if we split wrongly. This sad love will not fade, not for a while. When I lost you, I lost my one best friend. I guess even the best things have to end.
Aspirations of a Dying Breed By Julia Tagliaferro Luminous and lustrous saltshakers From the heavens downpour Inklings of light trickling Clinking shackles reaching skyward To fractals of Jupiter dividing Streaks of padparadscha and honey blending Into a breathable body 32
Hunks of ferrous intangibility blooming Nebulous nebulae swirling lapis and violet Assimilating and disassembling Supernovae spiraling out into reincarnation Or imploding into a void of empty Chains reach higher Aspire for the sweet release Of malachite skies and immeasurable depth Washing away the masquerades of the human race Revealing the candid identities of oppressed and oppressors Through distance and sheer enormity of willpower Sapphire eyes peering through the mist And witnessing what the rest cannot Links unbroken Verses unspoken Reaching for a reborn infinity
Like A Cold Glass Of Freezing Ice, Sweating Under the Bright Beautiful Hot Sun, Melting Away Without Notice By Bella Monzo A Cold glass of ice in the hot sun, Happy warm nothing to fear, you are here, It is so, so hard to leave that loved one, I am not a writer, nor no Shakespeare. I will show you what happened, what I did,
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How I will always open up to up you. You sit there nothing about your forbids, You sit there as I lecture, just us two.
Think about how I feel I told you all, If I could take it, I think I would You make it seem like you’re the one who falls, But now I say nothing just us two Communication is short between us. It seems there is still nothing to adjust.
Believe In Hope By Anonymous Why is sadness an essential emotion? The feeling of gloom washes over one’s mind A sensation of getting torn apart and going blind If only there was a cure, a possible potion Or something that could at least make it smoother, some form of lotion A pain so intense that one could only wish to rewind It’s a side effect of the contract of life in which we were forced to sign
But there is an upside True happiness cannot be felt without a little sadness Where there is destruction there is someone out there to rebuild Push all the negativity aside 34
Dwelling on a thought will only cause madness For there is something that will help you refill
El cuento de realidad de amor [Spanish] 35
By Anonimo Cuando te veo, Todo se para Y quiero verte Hasta no puedo más. Hasta el cielo se cae, Y el sol no se brilla Pero, No puedo tenerte. No puedo amarte. Separado de mí por un millón estrellas Y el tiempo no me esperará ¿Cómo? ¿Cómo vivo? Mi corazón se para latiendo sin ti Y los cielos se lloran cuando estamos separados Y nadie puede aliviar el dolor Es la verdad. Ni más, ni menos. Y tengo que vivir con eso. Pero No me importa Porque, incluso si sólo puedo pensar en ti, Cuando estamos separadas por todos los mundos y estrellas, Es bastante por mí.
The Story About the Reality of Love [English Translation] 36
By Anonymous When I see you, Everything stops And I want to see you Until I cannot anymore Until the sky falls And the sun doesn't shine But, I can't have you. I can't love you Separated from me by a million stars And time won't wait for me. How? How do I live? My heart stops beating without you And the skies cry when we're apart And nobody can alleviate the pain It's the truth. No more, no less, And I have to live with that But It doesn't matter to me Because, even if I am only able to think of you When we are separated by worlds and starts, It's enough for me.
The Key 37
by Julianna DeLucia
To my heart Is not to be open Unless given to you by me I trust I will not Give it To just anyone If you get this key do not break it I need it so I can breathe. If you Set my love free For eternity Then you Need to keep My key Safe For when You open it We will Always Be together As long as We have the Key
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Stained Glass By: Anonymous The sky, the sea, and the moon Are all in many of our eyes. However, there are some With all. Honey-stained and coffee-crusted Stand out In the crowd of vibrance, But capture many when fully seen.
SWINGSET By Ian Kratzinger Swingset Resting in a meadow of lifeless, yellowed grass Sits a swingset of yore A cumbersome mass. Rotten by age, loosely fixed together with nails Too ancient to disturb With every touch, it wails Fresh wood now grayed, worn, and weary, Any passerby should be shuddersome and leery Frayed twine dangles seats by a slim thread Encapsulated by a veil of inky dread Surrounded in a fog of eldritch sorrow Reminiscing on the past, terrified of tomorrow A westerly wind blows through the fields The swingset yearns and eerily squeals Shrieking like a spectral banshee’s cry 39
Excerpt from “Finding My Way to You” By Sarah Wachs The moon gleams down on the warm stone steps around the large fountain as midnight creeps into Washington Square Park, a sterile silence filling the air. Leigh sat on the steps, a light summer breeze dancing across her skin. Her concert ukulele sat in her lap, and her fingers gently resting on the strings as she strums out a few random chords before settling on a song. If there had been a crowd in the park, she wouldn’t have even thought twice about pulling out an instrument and singing. But the park seemed to be deserted, even though summer break just started, and it happened to be the perfect spot for Leigh to just sit and breathe for a few moments. At least, she believed she was alone until in the distance, a figure starts heading in her direction. Leigh stops singing when she catches sight of the figure, hands hesitating on the strings before noticing the figure was a human, who just so happened to be her roommate. Leigh placed the ukulele beside her before pulling her legs up to her chest and resting her head in her hands as Cass came closer to her. The taller girl sat down beside Leigh, mirroring the way she was sitting before looking up at the deep blue sky before looking back at Leigh. “You do know that it’s the middle of the night, right?” Cass’s voice broke the eerie silence that hummed through the park. Leigh looks over at her, nodding her head slightly before letting out a small chuckle. “Also, why aren’t you home with your family?” Leigh’s face suddenly froze, all color draining from her face as she looks anywhere but at Cass. She clears her throat, voice coming out with a crack, “I’m not going home for the summer.” 40
Cass’s eyes grow three sizes, her stare practically piercing holes through Leigh’s face. “You’re not going home? Why not?” She paused for a moment before continuing. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Cass wanted to know, she wanted to be there for her friend, but she didn’t want to break the poor girl; if Leigh wanted to speak, she would listen. But over the past months, she has learned that Leigh doesn’t break; she doesn’t let down her guard for anyone. Cass has seen Leigh interact with many different people but none of them get further than basic small talk. Even Cass barely knows anything about her roommate, but she wasn’t going to push to know information. Not if it was going to hurt her. Leigh has tall walls guarding everything that makes her who she is. Her past wasn’t relatively easy; she was teased and bullied and pushed around like she was a ragdoll. She hasn’t trusted many people in her life outside of her family and those few people are gone now. They betrayed her trusted or left without saying a word. But here Cass was, opening up herself to listen to Leigh talk about her life, and Leigh needed that. She needed open arms. She needed someone to confide in. But was it enough to let all of the water break through the small cracks in the walls and let it all crumble to pieces? She decided, at this point, there was nothing to lose. She ran a hand through her hair before beginning, “My family, they uh- they can’t afford a trip up here to come bring me back home for the summer and I don’t exactly have a car to drive home in so it seems that I’m stuck here for the summer. They were willing to drain the bank account for me; they were going to take out money to pay for gas and food but I didn’t want to take that away from them and it’s already enough with them helping me pay for college tuitions, but even then I wouldn’t let them help me with that too much. I decided I was going to stay for the summer and just work a job or two to help me pay off some of my dues. “I’m sorry that was a lot, but it all just kind of mean to get personal, it know why I said super annoying now-”
I don’t normally rant to, well, anyone came flowing out and I didn’t really doesn’t really matter to you so I don’t anything. I’m sorry, I’m sure I’m being
“Leigh, I’m- I’m so at the other girl and stream down Leigh’s face wiping them away with so we can stumble alright with you?”
sorry,” Cass interrupted. She looked up noticed a few shining tears beginning to before reaching out her own hand and her thumb. “I’m not going home either, through the summer together, if that’s
Leigh looked over at her ocean eyes. She was crack a bit, a few pieces without a second thought. Cass, if she would stay, she were to regret it in the simply allowed Cass to summer, it would just be
Cass, fear and relief swimming through scared because she just let her walls of her story falling from her lips She didn’t really know if she could trust but she let it out anyway.. And even if future, she didn’t care now. So she wipe away her tears and agreed that this the two of them against the world.
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Life and Death By Evan Carracappa Life is created to die, As death is created to give life, I am Hazel and I lost a friend, And the love of my life, To death, Augustus Waters, Life is a wonderful thing, It can create, And destroy what it wants. There is a normal person who will die at 80, Then there is life that failed mutation, Those are people who got cancer, Some people can survive cancer for a long time, But the others die. Augustus Waters removed the cancer he had, But then there was a resurgence, That took his life in the process, I wish that he would have gotten more years to live, But death knocked at his door and said, It’s time to go, I will always remember him as the infinite cycle, And also his days. Math has an infinite set of numbers, Just as love is infinite, When you lose something you love, You just want to die, But then someone special comes into your life, You want to spend every last moment, With them, You have adventures together, And just hang out, Then he perishes, And you just want to die again, Then the cycle continues My name is Hazel Grace Lancaster, This is my poem of life and death.
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The Little Tree By Anonymous I remember when I first moved here on a hot day over the summer There were no kids in my neighborhood so I thought living here would be a bummer I then noticed a little tree in the corner of my yard I examined it, I examined it hard That little tree, why that little tree was just like me, it was small and needed to be cared for I dug it up and walked into my house, it was a little hard to get through the door I watered it every day and it grew up along with me, that strong not so little tree One day I went on vacation to the north east I came back and saw my beloved tree deceased I began to cry, I was distraught, but then I stopped and thought That little tree had an impact on me Taught me the greatest lesson of them all That even though you seem alone, someone will always pick you up when you fall But it will always be with me, right here in my heart That brave little tree
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Love By Ben Gorse Chest pounding, stomach fluttering, Focused eyes locked in a trance. The world could be suffering, But all that’s felt is this dance. Skin touching, hands connected, A teapot singing with pent up emotion. If bombs fell, neither one need be protected, For they would die, happy, in the commotion Brow moist, mouth dry, He leans in, closing the space. Can’t turn back, too late to be shy Two mouths meet in quiet embrace Heart pumping, bodies one, Two souls finally intertwined. A whole new era had just begun, Time to leave that life behind.
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The Poem I Wanna Hear By Anonymous I wanna hear a poem that changes our laws That makes my school safer I wanna hear a poem that bans weapons of assault That regulates guns more than my clothes I wanna hear a poem where my life is important More important than someone’s irrelevant second amendment right I wanna hear a poem that proves there’s no need to fear When I go to school each morning I wanna hear a poem where students and teachers take action together Where the government hears our demands I wanna hear a poem where students don’t have to practice lock down Because they won’t be wondering “Am I next?” I wanna hear a poem that changes our laws But since no one seems to care I guess this will have to be the poem I wanna hear
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“Did You Hear That Icarus Flies Again� By: Emma Yakscoe did you hear that Icarus flies again breathes soars nearly touching the sun no fear no caution his hand skimming the sea his father’s invention perfected yet Daedalus still mourns begging for his son curses the sun damns the sea that he once loved as dearly as his son he does not know that Icarus flies again
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[Latin Translation]
audivistine Icarum volare iterum spirat superat prope tangens solem nullus timoris nullus cautionis eius manus perstringens mare inventum eius patris perfectum tamen Daedalus adhuc maeret orans eius filio exsecratur solem damnat mare quod olim amavit velut valde eius filium ignorat Icarum volare iterum
It Will Be Okay, Just Wait, Sit, Think, And Calm Yourself Because Things Will Get Better By: Bella Monzo There seems to be no motivation. There seems to be no hesitation. Just a straight face, lifeless fake. 48
But the outside a smile just in case. There’s no kind of inspiration. It is not just a blue kind of sad, It just seems unbearably bad. I know I will snap out of it, That is what I always like to think. Suffocating, struggling, in thick thoughts. There is a feeling of being lost. Shift, tilt, shake just move your mind, different. Just wait, I say, stay sit and find it. Memories do cost, still cost, will cost. That is what I always like to think
Fair Maiden on her Toes by Haley Stokes Crown pinned on her head, the princess of the hour. Step into the wings Fluff and flounce and tuck and fix Fair maiden in her tower. What if she forgets? Her hands shake incessantly; move with the music, pique into the spotlight, she has found where she is free.
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White Walls By: MaryKate Ardizzi
She smiles, but her eyes are lonely and timid. She is beautiful, But she uses all of her energy to make her happiness appear real. Now her wild red curls are always straightened, And not even one of her sun kissed freckles are able to break through her heavy foundation. 50
She seems to apply it thicker each day.
She will not accept her beauty. She needs perfection; it is a necessity. She devotes her every breath to it, every waking hour of the day. She works relentlessly towards her only goal; one that will never be reached. She lives in a world of white walls.
Searching for that wall with the written answers as to why she cannot accept her beauty, Always searching.
The desperateness to be someone else drags her into the deepest cracks of life, Cracks holding the girls with lonely hearts and empty souls.
For she remembers the day when her many thoughts became ugly‌ She remembers, Standing in front of the mirror and realizing that her skin no longer appeared porcelain, Her forehead, red with blemishes. Her toned belly had gone a bit soft.
Her walls had changed along with her, No more swirled shapes made by her own hands as a toddler, 51
No more brilliant colors one could only find in the rarest sunsets.
Her walls had turned white, For now she questions her beauty, her self worth, all of it. Everything she once had inside of her, was lost.
Every time she sees happy, confident girls, She notices they way their exotic colors track behind them. As they leave their unique marks upon the world, While she leaves those white footprints, A toxic white, constricting and controlling. That are anything but unique. Those girls she sees, never force a smile, Unlike herself, who uses her every muscle, 52
All of her might, To make the slightest grin.
She stops smiling; it hurts. She hates herself because she has forgotten how to love herself. She wants to be anyone but herself Because anyone else is perfect.
She picks up a paintbrush With buckets filled with those sunset colors, and she paints. But the white walls are immune to color, The white remains. For she has forgotten herself, entirely.
Nocturnal Creatures By Parris Swain I lace up my running shoes, knowing I have nothing to lose My friends all wait outside filled with eager They say “we aren’t tired.” I say, “ me neither.” We run up and down the streets acting as crazy as can be The night time wind in my face made me feel so free We find sticks and bang on trash cans disturbing the people who sleep Sneaking around in the bushes, in the dark we creep 53
We dance in the dark streets under the stars We fill up on sodas because we are too young to go to bars
We get bags and bags of snacks from the local corner store Then we go back later because we crave more We hang at the park looking carless as ever, I’m not turning back, not ever We are the nocturnal creatures and we show all the features These are the nights we live for, some adults just don’t understand We are kids, don’t grow up too fast, instead lets have fun beforehand
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Books Books Books By Anonymous This won’t be easy, Shall I say, Describing a book, Can go an offbeat way. The pages, So thoughtful, Tucked underneath, The firm, stiff, spine, It’s all alluring to me. The words in a book can be as simple as Just existing But the way the author puts it, It’s just so loosening. So may I say thank you, For all those who write, How talented and hard work you put in, Both day and night.
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How the pages just flow free, And the font is mesmerizing, I can’t be thankful enough for the book I’m reading!
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The Whirlwind Titled Life By Ainsley Spitz Innocence as light as cotton candy Jealousy feels as hard a brick wall Everything is always fine and dandy Then you get that one inauspicious call Juvenile innocence turns around Your lately harmonious stomach churned All you hear is the one disturbing sound You suddenly wished you had never heard You feel the lavish acrimony rise What other insane thing will happen next
The Quiet By Anonymous I wish I could write a sonnet of 10 things I hate about you BUT I CAN’T I would never be able to I wish I could change someone and make them see the person they used to be BUT I CAN’T I would never be able to I wish I could continue on with life pretending the worst things didn’t happen and that I could start over A redo is what I need BUT I CAN’T I wish I could see the people I miss the most BUT I CAN’T I wish I could continue writing this but I can’t I’ll reach a point where I can’t think of what to say and that’s okay It feels nice to be quiet
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The Man in the Machinery/Part one By Caroline Elizabeth
The boy stares at the surface The man lying down is motionless Eyes closed Body facing up Hands to his side The machinery is so packed around him it looks like an obstacle course just to reach him The boy strokes his hand Tries to ignore the other sounds Focuses on the feel of their skin in contact He kisses the man on the forehead Hopes to never have to say goodbye But it’s inevitable The Cure/Part two By Caroline Elizabeth The boy thinks about miracles He needs one Just as he runs out of hope, he hears there is something called The Cure It fixed the man he so desperately wanted to see again It may not work forever, but he cherishes whatever time there is Because time is a funny thing It sometimes slows down and seems like forever and sometimes it goes by in the blink of an eye He is so overjoyed that he doesn’t consider this The time the man and him have together seems like forever Their wildest dreams come true They are both happy Just as they are about to have another moment of happiness a bright light separates the two of them The man disappears and the boy finds himself laying down on something warm and soft He looks around It was only just a dream
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The Playground By Caroline Elizabeth Out on a sunny day the whole area shines There is a faint breeze and the air smells of freshly mowed grass as the girl stands in the center of the playground Arms spread out wide Hair going wild in the wind. The sound of footsteps fills her ears, but she does not turn She hears cackling and a snicker coming from behind She still doesn’t move out of the light The cackling continues to leave the girls’ mouth and soon turns to ambushes of cruelty She hears more footsteps and becomes scared It gets to be too much But it’s someone new She hears a slightly deeper voice telling them to back off The cackling stops The ambushes of cruelty stop The same footsteps grow closer and soon they halt right next to her A hand brushes across hers She looks at the person next to her and smiles when she sees him in the same position as her She feels the warmth of the sunlight once again but this time it’s different This time she is not alone
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The Face of Regret By Caroline Elizabeth
In a dark room she is alone her regrets swarm around her, clouding her vision Every choice Every mistake Every embarrassing moment They all stare at her The aftermath of her choices, mistakes and embarrassing moments Haunt her as she stands alone looking for a way out She fumbles in the dark as if there is a light switch She wants to go home as she begins to drown into her tears She screams and falls to the floor and accepting her fate But in the back of her mind, At corner of her eye she sees her biggest regret The one she will always want to forget Rainwater By: Emily Ngo
Another day of downpour The rain drenches everything in touch Even when wearing black, Yes, the rain is nice I felt joy sometimes, But today was different Today was gray, and dull; A dark forest with no sunlight A hollow feeling
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This week, lavished. Whether in the morning, or night I fell asleep in downpour I felt weak, and tired of the rain. Looking right because You had left me. Why are you crying? I’m not. It’s raining. Sweet I’ve been here times before, But not really. I’m actually just unsure, At this point I lost count. People are inconsistent, Being in love with the idea Of being in love Uprisings of problems People, or strangers? I’m sorry to those I’ve hurt. The soft and growing feeling Understanding of others What is this feeling we share? Confidence, or Empathy? You were different Your natural kindness The tender warmth you carried I don’t understand. What were you made to be? Sweet.
Shower after the beach By Willa Hetznecker The sand burrows between my toes. It slips down the drain. The water pounds my head, so the salt travels down my arm in the express lane. I dry my legs, hair, and face. The sunburn has intoxicated my cheeks. Freckles will be left behind to show the sun has taught me a lesson.
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There is nowhere else I would rather be.
I walk out to the deck and glance at the sea. The wind whistles through my hair leaving it curly like the ocean sway. The waves smack the sand, while the smell of seaweed lingers. The crabs dig into the sand to avoid being grabbed by infants’ fingers. You can hear the rumble of the engine from the plane blocks away. You look up and see the advertisement wagging its tail in the sky. Tomorrow will be another beautiful beach day. The sun says goodnight and slowly lays back in the pillow of clouds. The moon rises in the night sky and reflects onto the sea. I breathe in the salty, sweet air.
Contained
By Willa Hetznecker The pain in her eyes, Her smile, Her laugh. He has changed her. She doesn’t look. She is afraid. No longer is she the same girl. She gives in; He controls her. The puppet strings are tangled among her feet. He paints a smile on her lips. He has taken her light. She was once the sun, now she is a candle. Her forest eyes, now have been cut. The trees are barren. Her smile was a cozy crackling fire, now it’s a cold smack in the face. The pain has sunk deeper down, In her stomach, In her legs. She is not true to herself. She is trapped. She is the pearl inside an oyster. He will keep her shut. He will never realize He is hiding the most beautiful gem.
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When I Listen By Varsha Rajan When I listen I want to hear laughter. I want to hear the joy in people’s voices, And I want it to last. When I listen I want to hear a song so good, I put it on repeat till I hate it, But keep listening to it anyway. When I look around I want to see people getting along. I want to see people happy, And unable to contain their smiles. When I look around I want to see peace, Everyone getting along and working together, To help each other. When I see the world, I see every person’s differences. No matter color or gender. When I see the world, I see harmony
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Time to Cook By Jack Tsukada Seven O’clock has arrived Time for the vehicle to make the dive Time to pickle the spheres Time to submerge its fears The knife to the cutting board The wind sitting on the ford Like the man with a butterscotch can Borneo on the stove Fourteen eggs in a cove The tearing cans through the window are McGillicuddy's plans For food, serve the mood For hair, pare the wear Tides rising from geothermal energy
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Panic By Ally McKeand It starts out soft, You can’t tell it’s there, Besides a chill on your back, And a breath in your hair. You begin to shiver, It becomes a shake, Until the very bones in your body, Start to quake. As the water gets deeper, Your breathing gets shallow, Your vision goes dark, And your hearing is hollow. There’s a weight on your chest, And your muscles go taught, And the last thing you feel is your breath getting caught
Ready to Run By Gabrielle Whelan The world is dark The wind is sharp Whilst piercing my brittle heart I've been through it all Being followed by mistakes that won’t fall Now it is only I 65
Who will have to fight for my all I don’t want to trust anyone’s call My back slides down the wall I frown upon the fact that I am alone The theft that has been done to my heart throws me to the wooden ground It’s time to start packing up Walking around the broken glasses on the floor The sharp edges glistening in my tears My broken heart pounding my chest with agony I pass the broken framed picture of us, your eyes following me across the room And out the door I go I’m ready to run
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The most as you'll ever go Is back where you used to know If grown-ups could laugh this slow Where as you watch the hour snow Years may go by… So hold on…
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