mirth·ful |
so shall it stay for years and years, a smile I etch upon my lips. |
by Telishya Herbert, Class of 2020
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mirth·ful |
so shall it stay for years and years, a smile I etch upon my lips. |
by Telishya Herbert, Class of 2020
|
The Sunrise of Spring
by Jiaqi Liu, Class of 2020 The Sunrise of Spring I saw the sunrise, by the coast of the Plymouth Sea, The flashes of sunlight, break through the shackles of clouds, Drenching the continent, bringing warmth and lightness. The mayflowers, dots and dots of white, open their pedals shyly as they adorned the normal green. The soaring eagle, with its eyes reflecting those beams of sunlight, poses its shadow over the hills and valleys. The harmonic heaven, covers the Midgard like a pale blue valve, sees its reflection from the mirror-like lake. When the last moonlight of winter fades, the first sunshine of spring will appear. The creeks have unfrozen, while the songs of the birds echo, The coldness has passed, the spring has returned, And all will soak in the rain for the season of growth. |
The Brook
by Sebastian Armstrong, Class of 2020 Golden sunlight draws long shadows across a newly fallen tree on the path It’s layered with tinted moss that crunches under my fingers I can hear the water whispering to me Like sifted grains of fine sand pouring onto a drum Standing on the bridge, I can see the river moving between the planks Underneath, white rapids disperse into a pond of bubbling ripples Upstream, the water pools like black ink Before gushing into a gaping mouth Of two Jagged rocks I sit by the pool Where twilight seems to diffuse into the liquid I lean over to see myself with wings of branches A droplet falls from my fingertips and sends ripples through the reflection There is a giant who lives across the bank His face of stone is half submerged Warped plates of charcoal moss the size of my palm cover his back Downstream, I climb atop a flat stone nestled into the shore A crippled tree reaches for the sunlight, leaning across the river Behind my rock, the brook’s flow branches off The water collects into a small basin before pouring itself over a dam of roots Leaves and bark and bits of moss and twigs get caught while the current flows unimpeded It seems that, for water, there is no tomorrow I think the tree here has learned from the water Despite half of her trunk now lying across the brook, a bridge for the squirrels, Flexible shoots of maroon buds grown still. Unlike me, water accepts every passing moment for what it is and moves on If I were like water, I would never be bothered again! A thin little creature just catches my eye. He lands on my notebook trying to find a way back to his home in the moss There is another one too on my leg! She is frenzied, waving around her antennae only to climb higher up to my elbow We should learn from these insects Though, like them, we are always searching our environment, We too often think of the future, oblivious to what we are doing in the now Fluid as the stream, the future is merely a reflection of the imagination While the past lurks in our present shadows We ignore the obvious place where we belong Our home among the tangible |
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Stop trying to fit into places you’ve outgrown,
The playground, those jeans, behind a desk and chair. The time has come to stop the watch, And watch for new spaces, new faces, But not without remembering the old; Freshman year redefining ‘fresh off the boat’ But that ship has sailed. Sophomore year you made friends, you made friends You made enemies… Junior year your circle grew small, but close, Like Dr. Cho’s closed fist against everyone else's. Senior year, as this journey ends, You are like a camel trying to fit through the eye of a needle. Learn to let go. Don’t lose yourself. Be free like your first pair of rollerskates in K5, Like your words in first grade, Like your socks in third, Like Mrs. Henry’s dentures across the classroom in fourth... You can remember, You can remember. But make new memories, Don’t relive. Don’t forget. |
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Spring Unfolding
by Rachel Wachman, Class of 2020 |
Just a Stroke
by Ana Bolt, Class of 2020 |
Crystal stars sprinkle across bent blades of tarnished hopes
Long forgotten amidst frozen fragments of faded greenery Colorless ghosts graze the graveyard of Yesterday’s dreams Buried beside Love and Truth. The world – erased by Winter’s merciless gale – Re-drawn in an instant. Falling into Fear’s outstretched arms Wary to join that unbearable battle Biding Time, savoring Earth’s embrace – No longer. Verdant tips protrude from underneath icy veils Refusing to be struck down by Nature’s wrath Shoving upwards past Trepidation, Spurning Fear Keep pushing, force yourself onward Baby buds rise against the world Fighting frigid blankets that drape the landscape in white, Fighting for Tomorrow For freedom Fighting for the chance to unfold Fighting for the flower every bud can become |
I was nine
I went to bed My sister went to bed She woke me up from all the noise When I woke I didn't feel good I just layed in bed thinking to myself It’s just a stomach bug It’s no big deal It got worse through the night I decided to go in the hall I stood in the hall for 30 minutes Thinking this is just a stomach bug My parents were watching Grey's Anatomy downstairs i was upstairs in the hallway I went half way down the stairs to ask if i could get a bowl i was very very slow asking i really didn't know where I was I really didn’t know when I was asking I really didn’t know who I was asking I really didn’t know who I was I couldn't hear myself I couldn't hear my parents But I knew they said yes I went upstairs into the kitchen I got the bowl I walked to my bed I suddenly stopped at my bed frame I feelings I had suddenly stopped I felt empty I fell down and hit my head My sister looked down on me from her bed She yelled something out I blacked out for a couple of minutes I woke up in my dad's lap downstairs I fell asleep again I woke up in my parents bed in the morning My mom is trying to wake me up I was trying so hard to wake up My mom tried so hard to wake me up she pushed me off the bed I blacked out again I woke up again on my moms lap in the car I blacked out again I woke up again Thinking to myself This is the end of me I'm not going to see my parents I'm not going to see my sister I'm not going to see my brothers Ever again They’re not going to see me ever again And it was not a stomach bug I knew at that time if I closed my eyes again I wouldn't wake up again So I started crying So my parents wouldn't worry I knew my parents would worry either way But I still cried until I got to the hospital We were outside of Children's Hospital My dad picked me up He ran me into the emergency room I was on a bed crying my eyes out There was nurse holding my hand I fell asleep I was in ICU for 4 or 5 days The doctors said I had a stroke It paralysed my right side I couldn’t speak I couldn’t eat I couldn’t think of where I was I couldn’t even stick out my tongue I almost had a tube stuck up my nose for the rest of my life the doctors say I wouldn't live She’s never going to walk again She’s never going to use her hand She’s never going to talk She’s never going to be the same To this day I can walk I can eat I can use my arm I can talk...a lot But I’m not the same I’m better! |