Poetic Justice Issue Twenty-seven, Volume 2. Reawakening
Editor In Chief Ariana Bird Managing Editor Soraya Esmard Production Editor Parker Barry Copy Editors Richard Tobin Sara Formanek
Head Poetry Editor Katie Gulkis Associate Poetry Editors Richard Tobin Sara Formanek Dimitri Litras Sophia Upshaw Brandon Mcguire Parker Barry Samantha Schube Kimberli Galizio Head Prose Editor Haley Keller Associate Prose Editors Ryan Fallmann Ariana Bird Lily Berube Alvaro Ramirez Ana Lares Head Art Editor Joseph Belzaguy Associate Art Editors Isabella Manso Jessica Benova Sahar Barzroudipour Faculty Advisor Mr. Laubscher
Programs used: Google Docs, This journal was printed in Courgette font. Cover art credit: Parker Barry
Thank You, I want to thank everyone on the literary magazine staff. You guys have been a big part of this for me and for that I am eternally thankful for all your help. Although, I am sad about it being my last year, I am grateful. I am grateful for the guidance, opportunities, and wisdom this class, Mr. Laubscher, and everyone in this staff has given me. When I leave this year, I know I’m leaving with everything I could possibly need to continue through life. In saying that, I will continue to write. To the readers, thank you for supporting the literary magazine. With your help, it has pushed the literary magazine staff and I, to finish making volume twenty-seven, issue two. Why the theme Reawakening? “ Beauty is power; a smile is its sword.”- John Ray A smile to me is important, and it brightens up my day and a laugh takes everything to the extent. I wanted to capture the essence of “rebirth” and “reliving” basically a time and point in someone’s life where they can start over. Being in high school, it makes me want to start over, do things I wish I did, say things I wish I said etc. Even though I can’t go back, and college is new for me, this means a new life, a new time, a rebirth for me. I hope the writers found their rebirth in their writing. Your Editor In Chief, Ariana Bird <3
REAWAKENING Poetic Justice Volume 27, Issue 2
Table of Contents Poetry 1 2 6 7 8 10 11 14 15 17 19 22
dazzle me, Soraya Esmard Questions, Richard Tobin the morning after a catastrophe, Sahar Barzroudipour Gone Cold, Sara Formanek My Dad's office in Brooklyn, Dimitri Litras Before you left, Alvaro Ramirez I'd Never Have Wakened, Sophia Upshaw Sunrise, Katie Gulkis Torn, Dimitri Litras Dreamscape, Parker Barry A Real Fairy Tale, Kimberli Galizio A Penny for Your Thoughts, Samantha Schube
Prose 3 4 12 16 20
The Gentleman, Haley Keller Awoken, Lily Berube Lemonade, Lily Berube Running, Ryan Fallmann Devil Eyes, Joseph Belzaguy
Art 5 9 13 18 21
The Beginning of Autumn, Jessica Benova Bloom, Tyler Debose Not Another Sunset, Samantha Schube Man’s Best Friend, Haley Keller Chasing Waterfalls, Isabella Manso
dazzle me by Soraya Esmard pupils dilated and snowflakes caught in long eyelashes, you have never looked so beautiful. i yearn for your touch. soft hair and softer words, you have always been too kind. my hands desperately gripping yours, it is too late to forget. the loneliness i had once thought repulsing now longs to consume me. perhaps i wouldn’t miss you too much. perhaps i was just a coward. with one last fleeting look, eyes gleaming dangerously in the dark, i know it is too late for love. a simple push and you tumble down. i let you go, and you are gone. i am at peace.
Questions by Richard Tobin We sat together on the mountaintop. The moon’s silver beams bathed us both in a pale light. The grass beneath us was a gentle sea, each breeze sending a new wave skipping across the surface. The last charred logs sizzled between us, speckled with the soft glow of dying embers struggling to last the night. Our bags lay forgotten, their contents spilled out on the dirt. We didn’t mind.
The Gentleman by Haley Keller
He let the smoke from his cigarette flood the room, while he swayed himself in the rocking chair, back and forth. He watched as the smoke hit the wall and spilled out, pouring in every direction, as the fumes entered his nostrils. He leaned his chair against the rotten, wooden desk behind him. He adjusted the cigarette between his fingertips and brought it up to his lips again. Balancing himself with one foot on the ground, he put all his weight onto the two back legs of the chair as he took a long drag and let out a mouthful of despair. He leaned the chair forward and swiveled his body in his chair. He turned to pick his chestnut-colored leather shoes up from off his desk, after polishing them. He threw them on the ground in front of him, loosened the tongues of each shoe, and slid them on one by one, tying the torn up laces with his thin, brittle fingers.
Awoken by Lily Berube I’m awoken by the sounds of a guitar being strummed lightly in the other room. I sit upright and look around. This place is unfamiliar, logs make up the walls and wooden planks are plastered on the floor. It smells like pine tree and burnt ashes. Cautiously, I place my feet onto the floor, cold. I shiver and wrap my arms around myself, pulling the blanket along with me as I make my way out of the room. I creep around the corner and down the hall, peeking over the giant chair in front of me. I see my family and friends, everyone talking and eating. I slowly walk over and am instantly greeted with warm hugs and a mug of hot chocolate. Although I’m in an unfamiliar place, I feel just at home.
The Beginning of Autumn by Jessica Benova
the morning after a catastrophe by Sahar Barzroudipour
it is today that our collective breath aligns in rhythmic rows. keep on breathing, i reign to ensure peace. it’s been a half a century that i've breathed out of sync, oh how i hoped they wouldn’t notice.
Gone Cold by Sara Formanek A conflicted contradiction, taking swings in the dark, she searches for something unknown, only to discover countless empty days filled up with fake smiles, drowning in salty teardrops. Days turn to weeks, weeks to months, blurring together, morphing into a silhouette of a life once hers. A ghost floating in-and-out of consciousness, she is a clown without real makeup. A fake smile painted on her face yet the truth cannot be erased. Two laps around the parking lot just to feel alive, to hear her heart beating, to hear her lungs breathing, to feel her blood flowing. She’s alive. So why does she feel dead inside?
My Dad’s Office in Brooklyn by Dimitri Litras The scent of coffee and the sound of shifting cloth would fill the car as my dad entered. A one hour car ride later we arrived. The tight Brooklyn streets were always silent. We’d only have to cross one road to reach our final destination. A trip to a financial advisor’s office was surprisingly whimsical to a ten year old. He would let me play games on his co-worker’s computer. We would go to the deli a few blocks away for lunch. I would mess with the toys he had on his mountain of a desk. The day would always end with a trip to the movies or Coney Island. These times with him remind me how lucky I am that I have a dad who makes visiting some Brooklyn office a cherished memory.
Bloom by Tyler Debose
Before you left
by Alvaro Ramirez You said you’d be there for me, and I fell into your belief. I depended on your love so when you failed I fell. Deep inside you were the only one to make me thrive deep inside. You were to me as water is to the the world, So when your ocean of trust lost gravity and slipped out my world was left with nothing. Our love ran dry. The only thing that’s keeping my world sane right now is the rain that falls whenever I hear your name, rain running down my rocky dry world that you, Mother Nature destroyed. You brought venom to our world just to leave when the sickness set in. And now it’s just me, alone in a world full of hunger craving love, where you used to bring water and sunshine that would let my love that I planted thrive. But now that there’s no you sadly there can’t be me, and everything we created in this world will be soon to die. Your love killed me from within.
With a kiss, your deadly venom circulated in my veins, reaching into my heart and pumping through every muscle and organ, making my body lifeless. I guess I could only thank you for one thing now, for making me numb before you left.
I’d Never Have Wakened by Sophia Upshaw
There are no roads past the mountain range, just an endless sea of meadowed pasture, teeming with elk and alder blooms. The sun does not set beneath the horizon, it only rises and carries you with it, the speckled birth of an infant star. The space that follows after a dotted period, there the ink is your own, to bathe in, to drink, to bleed. This is the untold sequel of your life, nestled away between night and day, the stonewalled stream of a mountain’s peak.
Lemonade by Lily berube I wish I hadn’t met you. I wish you hadn’t asked for my number. I wish you hadn’t called me, and most of all I wish I hadn’t answered. I was naive and lonely, you were worldly and bored. I guess that’s why they say opposites attract. I fell into a trap, I should’ve been more cautious. Wasted time and tears began to pile up and you noticed, but did nothing, because this was what you wanted to happen. You saw an empty glass, and I saw a pitcher full of lemonade, and as I downed another cup, your once sweet taste turned sour. I thank you for meeting me. I thank you for asking for my number. I thank you for calling me, and a special thanks to myself for picking up. I am grateful for my naiveness, which I no longer have, because of you. Because of you, I no longer let corrupt souls fill my glass. I was half full which is exactly why I’m thanking you now, because you showed me I deserve so much more than a half empty glass.
Not Another Sunset by Samantha Schube
Sunrise by Katie Gulkis I dream of a sun filled place, a home to all. Quaint art shops and cafes are haunts of creators, bringing something new to the world through their art. The sea rises and falls, bringing change and inspiration in with the tides. If you look at the shores you’ll find poets and painters discovering their muse. Sculptors collect shells, gifts of the sea, to use in their masterpieces. By day the village is soaked in sunlight, and moonbeams by night. The stars shine bright overhead, filling the residents with wonder.
Torn by Dimitri Litras We cry to defend ourselves from emotions we can't comprehend. It’s a very strange process. Tears fall, shatter against the ground and disappear. Anyone who has cried before knows it really isn’t that simple. It is a full body rush of emotion that appears as simple drops running down your cheek. The storm brewing inside you can never really take full effect on the outside world. The oceans of tears one may produce cannot come close to representing what they are going through. A child who falls and scrapes their knee will have the same physical reaction as a child who lost their mother. It is simply the one way of dealing with pain we are born with. If someone is crying, please ask what is wrong. Because that physical sign of “sadness” really doesn’t tell you anything.
Running by Ryan Fallmann I feel the wind push against my face as my legs push dirt up from behind me. I am running down the trail to the unknown, hoping for something that is better than what is behind me. My feet ache more with each step that I take, but I must keep going, the pain is nothing compared to what is behind me. I wipe my face, not sure if it is sweat or tears streaming down it. I am out of breath, my heart is racing faster than I am. I am beginning to get tired of all this running, I am beginning to question all of this, if all of this running is worth it. I am escaping with no destination in mind. I fear the place that I may end up. What if it is worse? What if this was a mistake? I feel the urge to look back, at least there I know my place. I know I shouldn't, but the running is too much, too exhausting, too difficult. All I can see ahead of me is darkness, it scares me. I stop in my tracks and collapse on the hard ground. Against my own wishes I get up and I turn around, broken and tired. I begin to reluctantly walk back to the familiar comfort that is pain.
Dreamscape by Parker Barry
Lingering to listen to lyrical lies just to look into your eyes and realize this is a dream. That you’re not here with me. And I can’t believe that even the memories of you would leave me, but in my dreams sanctity still exists. I reach deep into my subconscious to carve suspicion from yours then distill the tension from the extension that seems to have fallen between us. Ties come loose like fingers breaking away from a grip we thought would never slip, yet here we are, writing another eulogy to an effigy that’ll never do you justice, for this is far too beautiful for eyes like yours to claim theirs. Waking to the sound of my heart breaking whenever I see you. I guess I must’ve mistaken the undertaking. And I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to realize the lies that lie behind your eyes. I despise the person you’ve made me into and instead I will fall back into bed.
Man’s Best Friend by Haley Keller
A Real Fairy Tale by Kimberli Galizio On a weekend in August, I thought I was in Heaven. A scene so gorgeous, with a carriage as majestic as Cinderella’s slippers, stallions with fur of midnight, it was hard to believe that it was reality. My cousins were the ones spreading flowers, making the isle look like a river of fresh lilies. Nothing could mask the aroma of the ones on stage. The sky’s brilliant blue was perfect for the day, and what else could make it better than the best dinner ever? The pasta was the way Grandma makes it, and the cupcakes satisfied the sweet tooth. The finale was a dance that lasted until ten. Event dances first, including the bride and groom dancing with their moms. We got to request songs after, cheering filled the room because one of the groomsmen wore his shades at night. It felt like a fairy tale straight out of a classic film, Disney’s most magical projects couldn’t beat this.
devil eyes by Joseph Belzaguy i saw a dead girl once. the drain in the jacuzzi had grown hands and pulled her under, no mercy shown. no one even thought to look, had almost forgotten she was once there, until the little boy that was playing with her had come up and said, “she went down and never came up.” the way everyone rushed at once, eyes bulged open,as if dessert had been served like it should’ve been. and when she was finally pulled out by the hair, purple painted her skin like she had passed away the day before. the way she was limp, as if the inside of her body had vanished and all that was left was skin. the mother screaming and crying, begging for someone to save her daughter. and all i could do was stand and watch and pray. a sense of evil had been amidst us. when she opened her eyes, there was only black, the white was gone and a void had filled her eyes, until the black quickly faded back into her hazel iris. i realized i had just seen the devil play his cards.
Chasing Waterfalls by Isabella Manso
A Penny for Your Thoughts by Samantha Schube If you lay on your patched up couch worn with time, snuggle into the side, and close your eyes. Can you visualize a world where you are hypnotized, forced to internalize beliefs and thoughts you always criticized? Lies of dreams ripped at the seams, too paralyzed to know what it means, drained and empty like pistachio shells scattered on the coffee table, too hard to breathe. Until one day, you look up and see the sky is no longer blue. and all color, and all life, and all meaning is just sucked out of you.
I want to thank everyone again who has helped me and guided me through this magazine. My biggest support being my mother and my friends, Haley, Lily, and Ana. I have grown a friendship with them, grew love for them,and the rest of Literary Magazine. If you are looking for my pieces in the magazine you’re not going to find them. My pieces are not in this magazine plainly because this magazine isn’t about me. This magazine is about Literary Magazine, about how they have grown throughout this journey. How they have hopefully found a new light and have stepped over a new branch in their life like I have. I’ve come to terms with my “reawakening,” and I hope you do to reading this. This has been a blast and I hope to leave my mark here in 2019. I want everyone to know that I appreciate this experience in my life and I hope you understand my decision for this magazine. Love, your Editor in Chief, Ariana Bird <3
Literary Magazine 2018