by Sara McInnis-Misenor ‘18
An adolescent girl covered in shadows,
Watching, waiting, observing,
Visions of lives unconnected to her own.
They go by,
Humming the tunes they're told are popular,
Dancing to the beats they're told are acceptable,
Living themselves as pawns to the meritocracy.
Chaining themselves to each other.
Forming a massive cult of ideas and ideals,
More and more are attracted.
Succumbing themselves to the vortex,
And falling into orthodoxy.
A young girl draped in darkness stands at its edge,
Observing the souls,
Now lost at last,
Watching the ones she once looked into.
She spreads her arms, and clears her mind,
Her beautiful, dark coverings turn to colorless drapes.
Escaping into the void, she cries out,
The world outside is empty now.
No one left to watch her leave,
No one left to mourn her absence.
Gram-Gram the Kitty - My Great Grandmother
by Basia Fisher ‘18
Gram-Gram the Kitty
Is a realistic looking
Stuffed brown cat
Which wears a blue bow
Kitty is named after Gram-Gram
Gram-Gram was my Great Grandmother
Gram-Gram the kitty
Lives on a shelf
Next to an African doll
Very few memories left
Of Gram-Gram are
My internal storage box
But I do recall looking
At the Kitty, sometimes
Playing with her
When I visited Gram-Gram
At the Wardwell in Saco
Kitty is just an artifact
Who watches me each day
As I write or make art
Without me knowing
Her owner rarely touches her
I never think about Kitty
That doesn’t mean I don’t
Care about Gram-Gram the Kitty
She has been in my ownership
For almost ten years
Real cats are senior citizens
When they’re aged ten
My Gram-Gram the Kitty
Doesn’t need nine lives
She will be stuck with me
Watching me be creative
Could Gram-Gram’s soul
Be within my Kitty?
Has Gram-Gram read
Those unfinished fanfics
The WIP short stories
Or my current novel?
Can Gram-Gram see
My homemade cards,
The paintings I’ve painted
Or my digital abstracts?
If Gram-Gram really had
Been living inside my Kitty
Since Two Thousand Eight
That would make Kitty
Much more than an artifact
Within Kitty, Gram-Gram
Secretly and silently had
Spied on her Great-Granddaughter
As she went through
Her “Great Depression”
During the SMS era
Gram-Gram watched me
Sail through teenagedhood
At Thornton Academy
She’ll experience my graduation
When June finally arrives
A few years later…
I can see Gram-Gram smile
When I publish my novel
Indeed, Kitty definitely
Isn’t only an immortal artifact
She’s a subconscious
Reminder that Gram-Gram’s
Soul still breathes within
Kitty as her abiotic shell
Sitting on my shelf
Peeping at me as I
Slowly type and type
My manuscript or
Peacefully draw and draw
Pieces of artwork
The Life of the Weather
by Zech Thauer ‘19
One swallow does not a spring make
How many swallows does it take
To turn the cold cruel claws of winter
To the soft and gentle hands of spring
The time has come for Father Winter to give up his rule
And give the throne to the fair Lady of memories made new
The feeling of frost under foot can't compare to the smell of grass covered by dew
Why winter feels so long and spring so short I haven't got a clue
In the time that Spring lives her beauty is unmatched
The smell of fresh blooms in trees and dew on the grass
It's the perfect climate for bundles of joy to be hatched
A father and mother smile as they watch their joyful lass
Slowly Father Winter has died away only to be revived one day
And Lady Spring passes away with great sadness giving way
To Lord Summer with a sun so bright and warm
It gives opportunity and enjoyment to great hordes
And as Summer's life comes to an end Mother Autumn's life begins
A time when her dresses are exquisite with yellows and reds
If beauty is a crime Mother Autumn is guilty of one of seven deadly sins
Strong and majestic like a horse with elegance that could never be bred
Young lads marvel at the fiery color of the trees
Lasses laugh and play in the piles of leaves
Mother Autumn smiles at the sight of children
And is delighted when they are enchanted by the call of a wren
by Janet Olsen ‘20
He will always be there.
Not for me
But in my life
He is an armless apparition
Who was never there to hug me.
He comes and goes
In and out of jail
In and out of my life
Like the ocean’s tide
Only the tide comes every day...
My father doesn’t.
A Rose Reborn
by Crosby Adlard '18
Our Love a Rose, like Fire Bloomed,
It’s Tongues lapped up and pierced the gloom, A burst of Light that put the Sun to shame,
A Shooting Star Screams through the Dark, But ev’ry Thorn shall leave its mark, And all that’s left inside is shock and pain...
You never know
Just what you’ll find,
When you explore
A brand new sky,
Suffocate or grow beneath its warmth?
And as you feel
Two hearts combine Remember now
That in your mind
You feel this petal flutter ‘til it’s torn
Love’s a Rose Reborn.
It Hurts today, another Scar,
A Mountain Ridge, it seems so far I stare up at the Icy Stone above,
I set my jaw, my fingers crossed,
My Bloody Hands claw through the Frost That covers your cold heart that once felt Love...
I’m reaching up,
Snow leaves me blind,
And now I realize as I climb
The sky peers down upon these stony thorns,
And now I feel
This Earthen Rhyme
I See it Clearly
In my Mind,
Falling pebbles are Mountains being Born...
And from the Dirt,
Now mixed with Ash,
A Seed beneath
from Distant Past,
Awakened by the Sun, Survived the Storm...
towards the Sky,
The Sands of Time
The Pebble becomes Sand beneath its Thorns...
Love’s a Rose Reborn.