Poetry Intro / Poetry Submissions

BY KYLIE PENULLAR

To those who can only find comfort within their own words.

The marks America’s National Poetry Month. This year 2021 marks the 25th annual celebration of poets and poetry here in the states.

Originally launched by the Academy of American Poets back in April 29, 1996; the celebration was meant to show how poetry plays a major role in our cultural identity ranging from mass literacy to common education. The celebration brings about a gathering of people from many different backgrounds solely on the power of their words to bring about a state of equality.

Poetry is a literary work that expresses a special sort of intensity with either a specific or wide range set of emotions. Iconic figures like Lin-Manuel Miranda and our friend over at UH Mānoa, Jamaica Heolimeleikalani Osorio, express this intense emotion through their passions, identity, and history by using the power of their words.

We hear their proclamations acting as a hammer as they strike the chisel into the marble of society and shaking its foundations down to the bone. We use our poetry to tell history and inspire change. We use poetry to chant to our gods, to our kūpuna, and to our ʻāina. We use poetry to show another layer of ourselves, an identity outside of what we would usually share.

In this April/May issue of The Hoot, UH West O’ahu students were invited to share their breathtaking poetry. Students were encouraged to submit their pieces with a chase to be featured in this edition of The Hoot newspaper. We hope you enjoy their poems in this issue and us here at The Hoot wants to thank everyone who submitted their work and shared their creative passion to all of us!

Name: Adrian Agsalda Major: Studying Socail Science Year: Sophomore

There Once Was a Dog There once was a dog So small and so caring Yet so proud in stance This dog was no ordinary Loved by those closest to him A ray of energy, shining Golden coat and pearly black eyes Did no harm, no fuss, and no whining Perseverance through sickness Grateful in every step Believed to be in decline Something so hard to accept Lived in light till his dying day Passed in silence and went to see God Memories in his name There once was a dog

Name: Nicolle Rentas Roddriguez Major: BA Humanities-History Year: Senior

A Borinquén Morning

I could just make out the fuzzy green numbers stating 6:36 am glaring at me from the old wooden nightstand. I pulled back the sheer white mosquito net that cocooned my bed and defended it from the pests while disentangling myself from the limbs of my sleeping Cousins that shared the bed with me. Meanwhile, I could feel how the island shuttered with the roar of life waking up, allowing morning light to seep through the dusty clouds.

My feet were numbed by the cold tile floor, as I got up to begin the movements of the morning. The house was quiet, only disturbed by the occasional tweets from birds or the ruckus of roosters. The soft snores of my Mother and Aunt drifted from the other rooms, followed by my Grandmother’s steady voice— who was already up, whispering her soft morning prayers in front of la Virgen del Carmen. The distinct thump of my feet marked the journey to the house’s only bathroom, which wasn’t far.

I counted. One—Two— Pass the couch —Three— Four—Five Pass the other bedrooms—Six—Seven—And I’m at the bathroom door. I flick the light switch and listened for the hum of the light bulb that decided it doesn’t want to turn on. I frown but continue, the light is of no problem, the yellow glow of the morning dawn trickling from the window would guide me. The squeal of the bathroom tap as I turn it echoes in the room. The pipes protest in a groan and choke and I’m rewarded with a meager stream of water, that turns into a series of drops, before it mysteriously disappears. ¿En serio? I turn off the tap and leave the bathroom in silence.

Outside the house, the crunch and churn of gravel by wheels alert me of the Panadero on his morning run, followed by the announcement of his voice that chanted Tengo pan, tengo huevos, tengo lecho! Repeating. My Grandmother grumbled as she stepped out of her room.

Buenos días Mama— buenos días Nikita— was the simple exchange I made with her. She disappeared out the house to bargain with the Panadero, before appearing again, her arms full with her morning catch. The voice of the Panadero faded into the distance. No hay agua o luz I said and my Grandmother just smiled at me. Pero, ahora por lo meno tenemos leche, huevo, y pan, she responds. And in that moment, I knew that everything would be just fine.

Name: Haley Schoch Major: Business Administration Year: Senior

/piko/

what h o l l o w s left open

d r a i n where I am connected to mother pulling from inside

reaching for s

p i n e to ground ovum

renewing

time borrowed