December 10, 2018

Posts from "Poetry"

  • Poetry | Nov.01, 2018

    Ruined

    by Eliana Lopez ’22 She’s hung up on her ex Not ready to let you Into the inner workings of her heart While the traces of his intention still linger in the edge of all her scars Try not to…

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  • Portfolio | Nov.01, 2018

    About James

    by Maggie Burke ’19 Your name lights up my screen, and I instantly drown in a memory of when we communicated by a simple hand squeeze, not fingers tapping keys, those talks come with far less ease. Out of the…

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  • Poetry | Nov.01, 2018

    In the Eyes of Another

    by William Bozian ’19 I do not decide who I am, for who I am is decided by another. Some may think I strive to harm, but some may see me as their brother. All in all, who I am…

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  • Features | Oct.25, 2018

    Tiff and Earl

    Dear Tiff and Earl, What do people do here on Halloween? Is trick-or-treating still a thing and if so where? Because caffeine isn’t getting me through midterms and I need some candy asap. Sincerely, Sugar Fiend   Dear Sugar Fiend,…

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  • Features | Oct.25, 2018

    Listomania: Couples’ Costumes

    Kris Dunn & Coach Cooley Huxley & Friar Dom Dot & Fran Dean Sears & His Running Stick PC Squirrel & Trash Can Martha Stewart & Snoop Dogg Pete Davidson & Ariana Grande (Too Soon?) Chicken Nugget & Curly Fry…

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  • Comics and Drawings | Oct.25, 2018

    The Friar Boys

    by Mark Fairchild ’20

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  • Portfolio | Oct.25, 2018

    To Hell And…

    by Connor Zimmerman ’20 “Enter when Hope is a thing of the past.” Shivering, Ron reads the sign posted on the door. The cold wind seeps through his skin and begins to settle within his body. Trying to work up…

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  • Features | Oct.25, 2018

    Halloween Haikus

    TickTok TickTok Tick I feel it running after me Its breath on my neck. —Jessica Polanco ’20   I can’t feel myself. No one hears me talk to them Is this death for me? —Connor Zimmerman ’20   I hear…

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  • Portfolio | Oct.25, 2018

    What Will I Be?

    by Gabriela Baron ’20 October is the month of possibility. Our creativity develops and deepens like the crimson and cinnamon fall foliage. Each gust of crisp air propels our thoughts to the future. What do you want to be? The…

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  • Poetry | Oct.25, 2018

    The Dead Bird Still Sings

    by Sam Ward ’21 It’s okay. You can look away. Still fixated at the heap of feathers and blood at our feet: I’ve seen dozens of dead birds and have had perfectly splendid days. Perfectly. Splendid. Perhaps if I knew…

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