Posts from "Poetry"
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Poetry | Nov.20, 2018
Tangible Love
by Jessica Polanco ’20 Everyone claims you’re just as tangible As a rainbow in the sky But there’s nothing to see Just a disappointment in disguise You creep into my heart Slowly, you infect my brain I think they call…
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Poetry | Nov.19, 2018
The Worker Ant
by Garbiela Baron ’20 I am the worker ant. My job is simple: provide for my winged majesty and her offspring. My queen’s size is twice mine. Fertile, strong, and powerful; she is vital to the survival of the community.…
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Poetry | Nov.19, 2018
Syrupy Youth
by Sarah Kirchner ’21 She sits and sips her black coffee, While he sips on his caramel whip. It’s been a while since they’ve been back To the familiar coffee shop of their childhood Where they shared a first kiss,…
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Poetry | Nov.19, 2018
Winter Sunrise
by Erin Venuti ’20 Woke before the sun today, No intent to see it wake. Eyes Pry Open after Some hours. Insufficient — May as well have blinked; Streetlamps still glow, Same as last night’s close. Beyond the window, Quietly,…
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Poetry | Nov.19, 2018
Be Your Own Biggest Fan
by Sam Pellman ’20 Wish yourself luck before that big exam. Pat yourself on the back when you get the score you wanted. Give yourself that pep talk you know you need. Buy yourself the coffee when you’ve had the…
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Poetry | Nov.01, 2018
A Tale of no roots
by Estarlyn Hiraldo ’21 My identity — Think it’s all been a success Listen to the verses in my head when I address Failure at its best Told me I’m a mess Feel the melanin out of control inside 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
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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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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