Tag: Jessica Polanco ’20
Who Are You?
by The Cowl Editor on January 18, 2018
Poetry
by Jessia Polanco ’20
When the sun guides your life
And the heat of our mother slaps your face
Everything is laid at your feet
And your smile spreads from cheek to cheek
Who are you?
When the wind sneaks into your pocket
The leaves fall again
They are crunchier than ever
Leaving only crumbles behind
And apples grow on the healthiest trees
Who are you?
When the breeze tingles on your skin
Everything is covered in a white blanket
Nothing is in your reach anymore
Out of sight
When you lose your grip
Who are you?
When the buds begin to flourish
And the rain rinses the dirt on your sidewalks
The roses surrounding you are crispy red
Your lungs begin to feel soft again
Who are you?
The Eraser
by The Cowl Editor on November 16, 2017
Portfolio
by Jessica Polanco ’20
Sharp Edges and Curves
Without permission I am born and carved into all shapes and sizes. Cylinders, weird rectangles, and other dimensions I did not sign up for. They ink my skin with colors I hate. White, purple, and black. I wish they knew these things, I wish they knew what I’d grown to hate. Maybe they wouldn’t name me the way they did, or classify me in groups I would grow not to belong to. Most importantly, maybe they’d know I did not want to be stuck to an ugly black lead pencil, but rather an independent large pink eraser with the words stamped on my forehead: FOR BIG MISTAKES.
Don’t Forget to Erase That!
Attrition isn’t my thing, but it kind of has to be. When people make mistakes, I am forced to make it disappear. Without any good intentions, they harshly rub my body against their problems that could cost them any reliable positions in their lives. Sweat begins to break out, my smile spreads from edge to edge expressing my fright. I am not an inch of a cheap eraser. I’m big, fat, and tall. Because of this I will live for a while. Fixing people’s problems, I will be a reliable source for them for a long time. Tribulations with mistakes and paper, I am close to the reminder that all things have to come to an end. One day I will be replaced by another one. Maybe smaller, or skinnier, or more reliable for the trials to come.
They’re Gone and I’ve Dissolved
I was only a legend when I was alive. My ashes disappeared on blue rugs in offices and dorm rooms my purpose will no longer serve. Exams I will never be invited to again. Stepped all over, getting stuck under shoes of those I’ve assisted. I hope next time around I am made smaller, tinnier. Although no one will remember my loyalty to erasing their errors and I will be carelessly replaced, I am grateful to have been able to make a difference to their story. I cross my fingers, and hope that next time, they think twice before acting. Maybe I will remain unhurt. Enfeebling.
Halloween Haikus
by The Cowl Editor on October 26, 2017
Poetry
“Dev missed school today.”
“He missed it yesterday, too.”
“So HE was the bait.”
—Julia Zygiel ’19
A jagged smile smirks.
Hollowed eyes stare in the dark.
It’s a frightful sight.
—Marisa Gonzalez ’18
The sky grows foggy
Black monsters leave their dark caves
To torment again!
—Sam Pellman ’20
It was time for mail
The letter read Rest In Peace
In giant letters
—Jess Polanco ’20
Autumn’s costume show
Hides from careless grins the truth:
You will all grow up.
—Jonathan Coppe ’18
In-Between
by The Cowl Editor on October 19, 2017
Poetry
by Jessica Polanco ’20
If I had to choose between the moon and the sun
I would choose to stay in-between. I would make believe that the skies in my world
Can stay gray forever. I would swim in belief that the night and day are no home for my soul.
Although it shines bright, the sun and the light
It just doesn’t seem right to fly alone with so much wisdom in things that only a few people know.
The anxiety to share this gift overtakes my mind, but knowing no one will understand, holds me back.
Something so powerful, yet so worthless.
The true meaning of life equals no treasure at all, knowing everything means being a master at knowing nothing.
The sun and the light, it blinds one person into a box.
Others who know share similar dialect that call this place home,
Makes them feel whole but isolated from what the future holds.
They realize that the reality is unknown.
Night, where nothing is bright.
The dot of light brings hope in these lives that share so much pain.
The only goal known in the life obtained,
Is survival.
Muppets mesmerized by dead presidents and bills,
Forgetting that it’s possible to get ill.
Forced injections of puzzling life mazes, while they laugh above you at your misfortune.
Assembled incentive molded by dollars elevate prison bars in people’s minds making it impossible to reach day time.
In my home, this chase of fortune, blocking out mindful wealth is considered a crime.
Perplexing voyage, I dream of a home in the sky between the dusk and dawn.
Happiness fills my mind when I know it all and when I know nothing at all.