Tag: poetry
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.
Cómo Se Dice
by The Cowl Editor on September 17, 2020
Portfolio
by Mariela Flores ’23
Today my Spanish was more broken than my English.
The words did not fit in my mouth.
Between every attempt was the phrase cómo se dice.
The two oceans inside me clashed,
two lives being forced to merge into one coexisting life form.
My palms were sweaty as the round vowels of the language I love began to slip
in between the gap in my front teeth, and I could not bite down fast enough.
The words felt heavy,
sitting in the back of my throat, begging to be let out,
I just could not remember how.
It was betrayal.
My tongue was left bruised.
Beaten time and time again with consonants that are too loud.
I had spent so many years whipping it into shape
using words to mask the slight lilt of an accent.
English was supposed to be my savior.
Instead, like any colonizer, it set up camp and did not leave.
It took things from me I did not realize I had to miss.
There are cracks in my Spanish I am desperate to fill,
so I write songs with the first words I ever heard.
I paint with the colors I see when my mother sings her favorite songs,
and I laugh with the same laugh my father has when he makes a joke.
I put a band-aid over my Spanish, and I promise them I won’t forget.
My children and their children will know my Spanish the same way I did.
They will fall asleep to the sounds of Mi niña tiene sueño, bendito sea, bendito sea
they will call me mamá in the same little voice I once knew.
Today my Spanish was more broken than my English.
But tomorrow this too will heal.
The Etiquette of Regret
by The Cowl Editor on September 17, 2020
Portfolio
by Sam Ward ’21
One misstep now I’m missing time.
My sun just rose but I’m losing light?
That pie is halfway done
and under baked,
I’m overwhelmed?
What’s the answer if I question myself?
The force that animates life only moves forward.
So, salute the skies like a kite, soldier.
Rest or unrest, it’s all entropy.
So, trust or don’t trust your own recipe.
A kept tongue is a slit throat
‘Cause your wisest thoughts are never spoken.
One misstep now I’m giving time.
The sun just rose but I closed my eyes.
Forever and Everyday
by The Cowl Editor on September 17, 2020
Portfolio
by Marelle Hipolito ’22
I have heard the story, almost two decades old
Where were you when it happened, who did you call?
Moment of silence every year on this day
Eight forty-six, bow your head and pray
Gray clouds rose in the summer sky
Fire and ash took away air and sight
Darkness overwhelmed the light
Three thousand were taken, with no kiss goodbye
I have heard the story, almost two decades old
Where were you when it happened, I ask her, Who did you call?
A moment of silence, before I hear her say:
I was there that morning. I lost everyone that day
Gray clouds ruled the sunny sky
Fire and ash stole my lungs and sight
Darkness cast out all our light
I was not able to kiss them goodbye.
This is my story, I’ve lived it almost two decades long
I miss them all! My loves, my lives — I will never let go
My heart breaks every moment, every year, every day
It is eight forty-six, please bow your head and pray:
For the innocent souls, both young and old
We will never forget, we will never let go
Moments of silence, we honor and pray
Never forget September 11, forever and every day.
Promise
by The Cowl Editor on September 3, 2020
Portfolio
by Sarah Kirchner ’21
There was once the promise of forever—
A passionate forever of warmth.
Warmth that made everything feel right,
Yet nothing felt right anymore.
You kept me afloat in the lakes of your eyes,
Those green lakes of peace and happiness.
Yet the calming lull churned as I sank deeper
And deeper into the depths.
The sandy shore drew me from the fall.
And when the fall ended, I finally saw the sun.
Finally, I was blanketed by real warmth,
And everything felt right within myself.
The Start
by The Cowl Editor on September 3, 2020
Portfolio
by Sarah Heavren ’21
Some mornings we really dread
Having to roll out of bed.
The day is not as exciting
As the covers are inviting.
When the water is too cold
We feel anything but bold.
It’s easy to sit on the side
When we lack the courage to dive.
Some days the clouds never part
And they leave us in the dark.
When that happens, we can feel lost.
Any bridge is too hard to cross.
When we lack all sense of hope
And feel too inclined to mope
Please remember and take heart
‘Cause the hardest part is the start.