Tag: poetry
Little Candle
by Connor Zimmerman on January 16, 2020
Poetry
by Sarah Heavren ’21
There was a little candle
That came into my life.
And from this little candle
Came a beautiful light
Its flame emits a warm glow
That brings light to the dark.
The little flame lets me know
Inside me there’s a spark.
With light also comes shadows
But there’s nothing to fear
Because the little candle
Shines when the dark is near.
My sweet little candle’s light
Illuminates my doubts.
I hope its warm, burning light
Will not ever go out.
Light Brown Blanket
by Connor Zimmerman on January 16, 2020
Poetry
by Grace O’Connor ’22
The sun shined on his ruby fur
His eyes carried the last bit of life
He was in pain but at ease
As he laid flat on the floor
I held his paw in my hand
As tears rolled down my cheek
His ears soft and fluffy
I pressed his head against mine
The final goodbye is always the hardest
I felt sadness, anger, and relief
The pit in my stomach grew
As I looked in his eyes one last time
Wrapped in the light brown blanket
He was at peace but in pain
I walked away and didn’t look back
Knowing I will never get that moment back
These Trying Times Are Stagnant.
by Connor Zimmerman on January 16, 2020
Poetry
by Sam Ward ’21
*
I conquered moon cycles, fake news, reignited lighters
with no signs, nowhere to hide, huh.
It’s life, it’s all surprises,
we live; the vibe is priceless.
But when you rewrite the mileage,
you see, these times are stagnant.
**
I used to do this every day.
Now I cannot remember what I said yesterday.
Maybe it is complacency or that part of me rebelled,
Or there are greater forces at work, my chakras disassembled.
I used to turn my truths to fiction,
now just, solace in superstition.
***
If it is not nourished, we forget.
When trying times establish, we neglect.
If it is not tied together, what’s the point?
Let my attention see and my captivation seize.
Christmas Songs to Help You Weather the Cold
by The Cowl Editor on December 7, 2019
Christmas
by Sam Ward ’21
Take what joy these tidings give
and gift them back to all who live!
Fear and hunger can be adjured next summer;
the joy we share must last all winter.
For frostbitten souls: “The season is here!”
All the scrooges: “Christmas is near!”
Grab mittens and scarves lest you bold.
Only the strangest of us can withstand this cold
With the warmest of holiday spirit.
The combustion inside warms those who hear it.
It bellows from the stomach, diaphragm, and heart
But harmonious vocals are the best part.
Tell all the frostbitten souls: “The season is here!”
And sing to the scrooges: “Christmas is near!”
Christmas carols cannot warm the weather,
but it could make these chills feel a bit better.
Warmth, Light, and Hope
by The Cowl Editor on December 7, 2019
Christmas
by Grace O’Connor ’22
The warm light filled the room as the fire crackled
Sweet sound of music brought smiles to the faces
The smell of cookies floated through the air
Darkness and powder snow surrounded the house
She laid out all the ornaments on the ground
As she smiled and laughed contagiously
The serene look in her eyes brought a wave of comfort
She was full of joy and contentment
She glowed of hope and belief
As she hung the ornaments on the tree
Full of awe while looking at the bright lights
It was the one time where light was felt at night
The most magical day of the year
A day where the world seems to slow down
People spread cheer and eliminate grief
A day where one can believe
Until that belief is gone
Excitement is contained in a wrapped box
Not the tangible love and happiness in the air
The real meaning disappeared as one tears the paper
There is a Lily kneeling
by The Cowl Editor on December 7, 2019
Christmas
by Sean Tobin ’20
Behold a lily kneeling,
At stable’s cribside stays;
With beauteous music peeling,
His Child God, he will praise
Long after winter days;
And for his sons he pledges
His help and love always.
That light that brightens heaven
And plunges down to earth:
Which serves as hopeful leaven,
Which beckons all to mirth,
Excited by that birth;
The lily kneels yet deeper;
Sees now his meager worth.
That flow’r of radiance, lowly,
All men of virtue laud.
That lily kneeling wholly,
He turns up-right, now awed,
To see his Infant God,
And kneels still in the manger
To learn what path to trod.
Life at its Best
by Sarah D Kirchner on November 21, 2019
Features
by Connor Christuk ’21 – Creative Writing Contest Honorable Mention
How important is a moment?
It all depends on if it’s your last
A moment among many is not much,
For a moment can only be so fast.
But if that moment were happy,
Would it mean so much more?
Do we exist to be happy?
Is life without happy moments a bore?
Or is life about feeling,
About trying and chore?
Is life about comfort,
Or rather about potential you explore?
Life at its Best
by The Cowl Editor on November 21, 2019
Features
by Connor Christuk ’21 – Creative Writing Contest Honorable Mention
How important is a moment?
It all depends on if it’s your last
A moment among many is not much,
For a moment can only be so fast.
But if that moment were happy,
Would it mean so much more?
Do we exist to be happy?
Is life without happy moments a bore?
Or is life about feeling,
About trying and chore?
Is life about comfort,
Or rather about potential you explore?
Private Considerations of Pronouns
by The Cowl Editor on November 21, 2019
Features
by Emma McLaughlin ’20 – Creative Writing Contest Winner
Your stare menaces from across the bed
as I strain, choking on my words, to answer your questions.
In my silence, you make me feel disbanded,
shapeless without a label.
Some construction of letters, he/she/they,
for others to define me, ‘correctly’ discuss me.
I grip the bedsheets in fistfuls as if trying to dig deep
but find this same nothing; nothing secure, or conclusive
beside the ache that I can’t give you,
this shell you want to shroud me in.
I don’t understand why I owe you this.
I scramble to find the line separating what in my identity
I determine and what is outside of my control.
I can’t decide your thoughts, your inner judgments,
those are a sacred world of your own.
And you bar me from solely submitting respect to this world,
badger me to define your thoughts!
Where is the authenticity in this discussion of modern identity?
Why even in intimacy can’t I unfold myself organically?
Your prying questions, selfish curiosity masked as queer recognition,
causes any chance of budding identity to vanish completely
and my body to crumble, falling away from yours,
hit by bullets of inquiry entwined with accusation.
They shoot straight through me, reverberating off the walls,
leaving the room’s air thick with your crowding echoes.
The Generation of Speaking out and the Spoken Word
by Sarah D Kirchner on November 21, 2019
Features
by Nicole Patano ’22 –
I’m an advocate of nonviolence, so I don’t want to keep beating the dead horse.
Because the more we hear, the less we feel, the same we act.
And we forget to react and retract.
It’s a fact that our actions speak louder than our words.
The silence is deafening.
If you were to ask our sentiments, I would caution the extent to which you do so.
We’re more opinionated and liberated than others,
Free from the “dams that block the flow of social progress.”
Damn. Martin Luther King, Jr. said this when he digressed from the social norm
Of separate but equal, which was really separate and unequal.
We’ve gotten over that Little Rock; now’s not the time to stop and start treating the
Mountains like molehills.
The world is still turning, and we’re still learning.
We’re all the more deserving of being taken to task.
And I ask, “Oh say, can you see?”
Or has an eye for an eye made you blind?
Wasn’t it Plato who said that we have to leave our cave to see beyond the shadows?
And somehow after 6,000 years, our minds are still like clay.
Concrete is so passé because if you’re stuck in your ways
There’s no longer a spark to ignite your flame.
So we say, “May your fire burn forever.”
And don’t let anyone put it out.
Don’t let anyone put you down.
They say the sky is the limit.
But if my calculations are correct: the limit doesn’t exist.
So why should we define ourselves by what is possible
When we truly are inexhaustible?
And we may be full of hot air, but heat rises and expands.
Travel the zephyr, ride the wave, Zeppelin.
They saved the best for last.
