Tag: poetry
Glass Doll
by The Cowl Editor on October 15, 2020
Portfolio
by Grace O’Connor ’22
I was a glass doll stuck to a white shelf
People would step back and admire, but comment on my silence
I was fragile, and kept on a shelf high above from all the danger that crept below
Every crack in me was patched and all the dust cleared off
I was pushed far away from the edge
In case I’d fall and break into a million pieces on the floor that eyed me from below
I faded into the background until I caught one’s eye
They watched me with intent, then would look away
As my silence would lead them to lose their intrigue
Their slow glance away felt like a stab in my delicate chest
The warmth I received came from sunlight that would shine on me briefly
Bringing out the color in my eyes, quickly fading away
To show the hollowness that lies behind
I sit on the shelf still, watching life play out before my eyes
Until I am replaced, I long to feel the excitement of life below
“Writing in Stealth”
by The Cowl Editor on October 15, 2020
Portfolio
by Sam Ward ’21
Last gen not with it,
Sick blood so guilty.
Ten years no limits
Now just—
Abandon sweetness,
It’s the consequence,
Of genes and failing images
Nobody wants to tell you what
The worst case really is.
Is it self pity or stealth writing?
Truth hides behind stanzas,
Lies directly on lines,
Diatribes on lives
Lost.
We all already lost.
Last chance reaping what we
Sow but gotta do it, no jokes,
Immature when close.
Rock the boat no row,
Floating forward, just winded.
Exhaustion means praying for remission.
These flavors frequent the frequency
Painting palettes, the decency
Is a face you wear.
While the sky rains sucrose
None of us care.
Hide behind pronouns but
I don’t write to be heard.
I just write and share secrets.
Fall in Friartown
by The Cowl Editor on October 15, 2020
Portfolio
by Taylor Rogers ’24
A rainbow of colors fall from the sky,
Invading every inch of Slavin’s grass field.
Students aimlessly walk throughout campus,
Wondering when the current lockdown will yield.
As the rainbow falls, the wind begins to blow,
Persuading people to take out their sweaters.
With pumpkin spice coffees in hand, students rush to class,
Hoping that soon, everything will be better.
The rainbow of leaves fly,
Their orange, red, and yellow hues flee into students’ dorm rooms.
Amazed, they wistfully look out their windows,
Knowing that soon, fall and her beauty will begin to bloom.
More leaves fall from the trees, their color reminding students
That, yes, fall has finally appeared.
Excitedly, students begin to buy Halloween candy,
Snacking away and hoping Halloween this year isn’t weird.
The leaves soon turn into piles,
These clumps, the same size as the stacks of notes on students’ desks.
As the students begin to work, the piles begin to shrink,
And they find themselves looking for something to cure their feelings of unrest.
More days pass by and the leaf clumps grow,
Beginning their invasion of PC’s grassy fields.
Meanwhile, the students invest themselves in fall activities,
Ready to see what this fall will yield.
Giggles erupt as students jump into leaf piles,
Their inner child letting worry turn to glee.
With grins on hidden under their masks, students play,
And the atmosphere around Providence feels more carefree.
The piles of leaves grow and grow,
Matching the rate of people’s smiles and new friends.
While the leaves die around them, the students still have hope,
Knowing that like the seasons, this pandemic is sure to end.
Seasons
by The Cowl Editor on October 15, 2020
Portfolio
by Sarah Heavren ’21
A rainbow of colors
A gentle breeze
Tickling the branches
Waving at me.
Little squirrels scampering
Across the grass
The smell of the season
Coming to pass.
Cloudless, deep blue skies
The freshest air
Crisp as a tart apple
Grown with true care.
Winter is drawing near
With a bleak hue.
But winter brings changes
That will change too.
In moments of sheer doubt,
Moments of pain,
Just simply remember
Seasons will change.
Today
by The Cowl Editor on October 15, 2020
Portfolio
by Toni Rendon ’24
Today I’m numb
Out of touch with my emotions
Dreaming of only nightmares
And half-filled oceans
Today I got up
Walked around my dream
Looking for you but only found
The other half of me
Today we talked
He begged to be let in
So, I gave up fighting
And said, “Thank you,”
As he crept back in
Today I woke up
A wolf in sheep’s skin
Not feeling like me
And not all the way him
Today I’m complete
Finally, free.
You + Me = Destiny
by The Cowl Editor on October 2, 2020
Portfolio
by Toni Rendon ’24
I don’t believe in religion
So, for Me there’s no heaven or hell
There’s only one higher power for Me
And its name is destiny
I can pinky promise
It has a plan for You and Me
The path We walked used to be so heavenly
But recently it’s only been leaving hellish memories
I still won’t let this be the end of We
So just wait patiently
As my breath comes back to Me
And I slowly pick up the pieces of We
And put them back carefully
I do my best to ignore our history
But it still gets to Me
And I begin to drift away ever so slightly
We begin to defy destiny
When We forget the parts that made You love Me
So, this time let’s try to call it early
Before “We” just becomes
You and Me
And We end up as another sad failed destiny
Forgotten in the tides of History
The Mask
by The Cowl Editor on October 2, 2020
Portfolio
by Sarah Heavren ’21
The mask cannot hide my fear.
Nor make emotions disappear.
Its function is critical.
Its protection is physical.
Its weight can feel like concrete.
It muffles my voice when I speak.
It means so very much more
Than a mandate to go outdoors.
The problem is not the mask.
Wearing it is a simple task.
It is for the greater good,
But it evokes a somber mood.
Days of loss and days of change
Make the familiar too strange.
The mask makes mouths disappear,
But the mask cannot hide my tears.
KALEIDOSCOPE
by The Cowl Editor on October 2, 2020
Portfolio
by Jess Polanco ’21
If you face what they see, would you be able to see what they face?
Edited.
The lines, the colors.
Take a closer look.
Their feet carry all the weight.
Pace yourself when you walk.
Come on, walk at my pace.
Can you see the pain behind the masks on their face?
The lines, the colors.
The boxes.
The walls are thicker, they’re thickening the walls on these boxes.
With blue and gray.
Coating smiles.
Black. Purple.
Thicker lines that can’t be erased.
Can you see the pain they’re editing onto the masks on their face?
Hand me the yellow.
Edit.
Can I face what you see?
Can you paint a smile on your face for me?
Dull Sparkle
by The Cowl Editor on October 2, 2020
Portfolio
by Grace O’Connor ’22
After the miles of travel the bustle of the city felt like a sip of cold water on a hot summer day
The buildings scratch the sky above, as herds of people clog the sidewalks all around
The smell of food lingers and suffocates her as a nauseating reminder of comfort
There is no exchange of eye contact between those who walk by each other,
and the grimness of their faces highlight a mechanical sense of regularity
The golden encrusted staircases, extravagant drinks, red velvet seats,
and the translucent lights are a constant reminder of the ambition of humanity
This is the place she has thought about for years.
The place that is diverse from her home and represents everything it is not
The development of the city separates humanity,
making their lives spin around the touch of fiction, which is enhanced day by day.
She looks at everything out of reach and wonders
how simplicity is replaced by the craving for complexity
The water that holds the weight of the city glistens a dull sparkle
that surrounds the boats littered all around
She takes a deep breath and walks into the city
that forces the arms of the clock forward who reach back for their last dying breath.
A Lifetime
by The Cowl Editor on October 1, 2020
Portfolio
by Anna Pomeroy ’23
Life is a piece of paper.
A single sheet––
Lost in the endless motion of pages.
It is fresh and crisp.
Yet, its once desired appearance––
Becomes indistinguishable
Over the years.
We can choose to wear
Our heart on our sleeves––
Sometimes, disguised in
Illegible scribbles.
Or
We can erase what we once knew.
We behold the power within
The eraser––
To wipe away our footprint.
We can manipulate
Our narrative.
It is up to us,
How we are perceived––
And the story we tell.
Throughout our span,
We will become worn
Through cuts and crumples.
Yet, we bear these external forces.
We grow with them––
Becoming tough.
While we may take in so much,
In the time we have––
Our lifetime is just
As delicate, paper thin.
But with our death,
We are recycled.
The impact we left on earth
Remains.
We leave behind pieces of us––
Scattered in words,
And our genetics passed along
To the next.
Because a great story
Cannot be told on just a
Single sheet of paper.