by Grace Hugo '22
What if I wanted to be lavender?
He never asked me.
Stuck on a sad tune I watch,
envious of others and their complexion.
Bluest eyes, diamond hearts, creating a wonderland of lust.
He turns his back to me, ferocity igniting.
The hit of ecstasy,
the slap of life.
Purple beyond compare.
Who can tell me what I am to look like?
Why can I not be happy in my own house, a pool full of crickets singing into my ear, reminding me to eat my breakfast.
I never wanted him but he wanted me.
My mind filled with color, my face without.
My skin aches as I reach to pull it off.
A new coat of life as I drop the paper thin layer into the trash.
A town once empty, now filled.
Finally lavender and finally gone.
by Katherine Becker '22
Because I love you, that’s why.
Yes, I was told to give up on you, time and time again,
if he frustrates you, if he’s not cooperative, give up,
give up, you don’t need to help him.
I love you.
It’s not easy to give up when I care too much.
Yes, I know I care too much. I care
more about your success than sometimes I think you do.
I care when you aren’t
paying attention, I care about the little details.
I don’t just want to tell you what to do.
I want to tell you why.
Yes, the why is the most important part.
I don’t care that you know everything,
just enough to get you by. just enough so that
you’ll be okay when I’m gone. just enough that when I leave, you’ll think,
oh that’s why, yes,
now I understand.
by Katherine Goff '22
A sudden rumble,
followed by an unexpected
woosh from above.
As I peer to the sky,
my eye greets the source of disruption,
But not just a plane.
A way to travel home,
someone’s biggest fear,
a place to cry and to laugh.
A time for you,
a time for silence,
a time to escape.
An opportunity to observe the world from above.
a mountain range,
A city skyline in the middle of the night,
a golden sunrise,
and teal water off the coast of an island.
And when it all
a misty cloud,
one must wonder
what happens below.
by Scotty Ruth '22
Waking up with breakfast made
and a bowl of fresh water.
Being let outside to walk around.
Coming back inside and starting the day.
Unlimited belly rubs,
scratches behind the ears,
and nonstop snuggling on the couch.
A dog’s life is pretty good.
Going on walks and chasing squirrels,
eating treats and table scraps.
Sleeping wherever they feel:
on a bed, couch, or by a door.
Wagging their tail, perking their ears,
learning tricks like shake-and-sit.
Ending the day on a warm fuzzy bed.
A dog’s life is pretty good.
Fallen Carrot Stick
by Cam Holdych '22
Apple slices, leftover chinese, ice cubes–
What happens to food that falls out of the fridge?
Do you lawfully abide by the “five second rule”
and quickly scoop up your dropped sandwich,
or do you take the safe route
and toss the smushed lump
into the trash?
When an ice cube misses your cup,
do you pick it up and throw it in the sink,
or do you absent-mindedly kick it underneath the fridge
to melt away, forever gone from your mind?
When a splash of orange juice hits the floor,
do you take the immediate action
to wipe away the sticky mess,
or do you sit for a minute and reflect
in the yellow puddle
before cleaning up the juice?
At what point does food become pointless to try to save?
Will you eat a dropped cookie
but throw away a fallen carrot stick?
by Evans Campbell '22
There is a quote
From my family's favorite show
“You give ‘em for no reason, buddy, no reason at all”
I've been given flowers
For a reason
And it’s nice
But it's a reminder
It is an allergic reaction
To the memory
Maybe not forgiveness
Just the confusion
They are a beautiful
That without purpose are
Simple and wonderful
But with purpose
of apologetic nature
Are so lost in translation
That it can seem
Or suggest something more
Words are better for those situations.
I would only like to receive flowers
For simple uncomplicated
by Ella McDaniel '22
The time we ran in your yard, tripping
over branches, limbs, shoes.
The time we sat there
on your front stairs.
The time you went away
I don’t remember how long.
I made friends with the silver glint
of your mail slot.
The time I remember the clear glass of your door
and the clear chime of your doorbell.
The time your mother invited me,
with a kiss on the cheek,
for dinner, as a second daughter.
The time we ate
feta, olives, tomatoes
and your Greek names for them.
The time when I see them
in grocery stores
and how they remind me of you.
The time you sent me pictures
of your burnt red skin
by that other country’s sun
and its blue
skies and oceans.
The time when I’m here
and how a part of me
is with you across
The time when I wake up
and see your car parked
and no more silver glint.
And then we run, like the time before.
My Brother's Room
by James Beeghly '22
Now the guest room,
But as he moved out, so did many of its things
The twin bed in the corner grew to a king
A bookshelf for books turned into a bookshelf for storage
A desk full of school supplies was replaced by an Xbox
The room of my brother, now the room of so much more
A room for my grandparents to stay
A room for late nights playing video games
A room to work out
A room for my parents when one is sick
A quiet room
A room to keep me calm
by David Ding '22
Flash of morning light
Scares away the frigid night
Rays scatter, snow white
by Lacey Word '22
Grass blows in the wind;
Cattle lay in the moonlight,
Awakened by rain.
John Wooton '22
The moon dips behind
a cloud as the rain falls, which
makes puddles into little drums
by Jalen Pierce '22
My drip is the TOP
I’m always first-team no cap
My ice makes frost melt!
Maddax Winston-Evans '22
Dawn breaks the dark night.
Another innocent soul
is brought into light.
Lilly Krusen '25
As I sipped my coffee,
Lightly drizzled with caramel sauce
And topped with whipped cream
And a cherry (obviously),
I couldn’t help but contemplate,
In complete shock and incredulity,
What I had just seconds ago experienced;
I had listened to and watched,
With great astonishment and disbelief,
Two birds having a civilized conversation.
Yes, the two birds were in fact, talking to each other.
And yes, I did drop my steaming hot coffee
All over my lap and brand new pair of jeans.
Nora Wallace '25
My father’s favorite chair is made of leather;
His favorite shirt, of polyester.
I remember him like it was yesterday,
Where we were laughing and dancing together.
Gone are the days of no responsibilities.
Gone are the days of no worries.
My father’s favorite shoes are brown.
His favorite car is red.
Never again will he wear his shirt and shoes, or drive his car.
Never again will he sit in his favorite chair
Made of leather.
[The above work is fiction]
Caroline Crawford '25
I saw a zebra with no stripes
And the most amazing electric red bird.
I saw a rainbow in the sky
And a noble steed ready to take me
On an adventure to defeat the evil dragon lurking in the forest.
Years later, I returned to this place where my imagination ran wild.
I passed a brown donkey
And a neglected bird feeder
With the painting of a cardinal on its side.
I scanned the bleak sky for any sign of color,
But it was crowded with thick clouds.
I spotted the old and tired horse
That would accompany me on expeditions
To the forest where I battled my chores.
The farm where I lived looks different
In my clouded eyes.
by Jacob Hunt '23
The pond sits at the bottom of a hill
Surrounded by lush grasses,
Filled with an abundance of life,
As it awaits the sunlight from above.
The tepid water begins to warm.
Bacteria finds new life
And continues to grow from the warmth
Of the lifegiving heat of the sun.
The once flourishing pond
Diminishes to a puddle,
Exposing the roots of the dying grasses,
As the rigid carcasses of
Until at last sunlight is swallowed by clouds.
Thunder roars and lightning strikes nearby.
A drop of water lands into the parched pond.
Zoë Mintz '23
Ashes flutter up.
Blankets wrap shivering hands
reaching for the fire.
by Olivia Fairlamb '22
I wonder if the moon knows she’s the same moon when she’s a sliver as when she’s full.
Sometimes, I feel smaller than my skin, echoes of my voice filling hollow hallways.
I don’t register the cold, hardwood floor on my feet,
cannot hear my fingers whispering to the doorknob.
Somehow, the shoes I wore yesterday are too tight.
In severed seconds, I see my shadow in the mirror in place of my face.
When I recognize myself again, I’m closer,
and nothing has grown but the list of what I want.
One day, I will be fluent in its language.
These days, I only let the sun touch my hair.
I want her to give me a different name.
Now, if I meet myself from Wednesday, I think we could be perfect strangers.
The Way The S Falls
by Grayson Forstner '25
Seeking shelter, she stood at the shore.
Seeing the sea she saw scary, slippery snakes.
Seeing the snakes be shown snow sent her sanity away.
Safely the snakes slithered away, so she was satisfied.
She saw herself and sighed,
Sensed her sanity slipping away.
She sank in the salt sea,
Scammed into seeing scary snowmen,
Snowmen who sneakily seeped into her mind.
Soaked, she swam slowly to safety.
Snakes and snowmen sacked her sleep.
Scaly scales and slippery snow
Saw and sensed her shady setup.
She sent them swimming away.
She was a shell without her dreams.