|
by Alannah Shevenell '21
Home of the everlasting storm cloud. The lightning strikes its powerful bolt, shattering its victim. The mirror broke, shielding her from her broken self. Within her, beauty and love. Within her, fear and self doubt. Within her, knowledge and grace. Within her, sorrow and trauma. Within her, hope and light.
0 Comments
by Alannah Shevenell '21
The audience is full. There’s a camera in the back, forever the world is watching. I’ll send it to her tomorrow. The stage welcomes our turn. We’re creating sound, music. Feeling the color with every note. Seeing the notes dancing with pure and raw emotion. The happiness grows with each musical breath. I sent it to her. Odd, she didn’t respond. by Miranda Silva '21
A flower sits untouched, unloved, alone in a garden that withers away Waiting, pleading for A Touch of Rain A Touch of Love A Touch of Death A flower will take what it can, If only it can change its present situation, it’s condition, it’s delma. For a flower is not picky, But thankful for What it is given What it can take What is there by Chantal Biggar '19
If you could hear the wildfires as they are scorching crackling embers raining trees crumble to ashes If you could see the waves which shatter barriers surround and drowning fizzling to the surface You are cold like the depths from which your waves reside above Your hands ignite a fragile leaf Burning timeworn trees along your path set ablaze You reside within a tenebrosity These ruins of your doing resulted from an impassable heart by Stephanie Sanborn '19 You can’t walk down the street without being judged.
Your eyeliner’s smudged? They’ll laugh, and you’ll run. A world so obsessed with being the best. Why can’t you be you, without the stress. The stress of meeting their standards. The stress of seeing the banners. The banners saying be a size one. And so you go for an extra long run. Everyone’s telling you to be a better you. As if the current you shouldn’t stay true. They say to fix your hair. If you don’t, they will just stare. Get good grades, or you’re stupid. Make sure you’re not secluded. Wear makeup, it will make you pretty. But not too much, or you’ll look like Barbie. by Julia Pisani '21 When I think of Nana, I think of
White hair, A wrinkly laugh, And butterflies. Nana loved butterflies. I think of the seashells and sand dollars That lay scattered throughout her house, Beautiful treasures that reminded her Of the beach she’d always loved. by Toby Johnson '19 A stag rests on the bosom of painted ladies, white and fair.
Red lips, charcoal teeth, heavy in spawn-- she is plentiful. Rice ripples by invisible, watched idly by black eyes, it is in passing it grows to feed the viewer and company. Buzzing of glass wings vibration, creates the music of the stage she misses. Could her heart run free she may let it, to dress in loose robes once more. To lay bare in the lap of a mortal, exposed to steaming gazes. Extending her mandible, a laugh peels her skin back, golden scutellum melds from marrow. She glitters in the noon rays, wasting no time to enjoy beauty. She ticks a twig antenna and flutters away. by Brittney Atwater '19
The Mistake Four years it will be And still no affections toward me I would like to say I love you But it's not us two Over me you chose her I guess to you I'm just a blur When will you see You're the only one for me So as the years go by All I can do is cry by Brianna Charon '19 I don’t know how to tell you
that I don't want you, but I need you to your face. Because when I get close to you, even if I have a script written out, I become so enthralled by you that I trip and stumble over my words, and my mind is racing as the fire in my heart intensifies. by Alison Violette '20 My anxious feet leap onto the baby stones
The minute they find their way into the fissures on my feet I know I’m home My life has been a whirlwind of change in plans and broken dreams But with all my rips and tears, this place stitches up the seams The water’s breath finds it’s way into my soul And suddenly every tattered piece feels whole. I’m suddenly friends with the grass, which is mostly destroyed from the bleeding sun But in this place, nothing needs to be perfectly done My teeth are a smile as soon as I open the door |
LiteratureCategories
All
Archives
December 2019
|
RSS Feed