Tag: poetry
Gemini
by The Cowl Editor on March 7, 2019
Poetry
by Jay Willett ’20
Mischievous, nervous,
joker, lover,
laugher, crier,
hopeless, higher.
Blame, but
never stay the
same. Shame,
but always play
the game.
Not a choice,
just our voice,
because the world
expects in our bourgeois.
We just want to live
up to them.
Every court needs a jester.
Every jester needs to laugh.
Liar, psycho, lame investor,
failure of the polygraph:
hear my call.
Split we are,
yet none shall fall.
Two sides of a coin,
Two edges to a blade.
Screw it, let’s just never change.
Never relax, always on the move,
take no time to disarrange.
That’s what we really do.
Steel thyself my boys,
that way, you will never fade.
An Ode to History
by The Cowl Editor on March 7, 2019
Poetry
by Sarah Heavren ’21
Oh History, how boring you can be
If one can’t see the forest, just the trees.
Why do many people choose to ignore
Your countless articles found on JSTOR?
People complain that there’s too much to read,
And research is such a tedious deed.
But so many people seem to mistake
That you are only names, places, and dates.
People don’t care to discover the words
Of many voices that have gone unheard.
Some will never know the wonderful rush
Of sharing truth with an artist’s touch.
What could be better than getting to know
The great untold stories of long ago?
What makes you boring is people’s false view
That from the past we can’t learn something new.
Some people are just unable to see
That you tell the tale of humanity.
Poem #2
by The Cowl Editor on March 4, 2019
Poetry
by Sam Ward ’21
When the rain soaks the body and pain eclipses,
I’ll take this body to the ground if my soul permits,
leave it in a shallow grave like ice cold tips.
He who felt the weight of blossoming burdens
can take summertime love to cough on the sermon
or the feel alive buzz to soften the learning
But the kid who speaks about alternative dimensions,
must burn at the stake like the witches of Salem.
I fell in the middle with an undisclosed hologram
building castles for the wake
shapeshifting in place
for the pleasure of his better half
About as zealous as a zombie
foaming at the teeth
he hit the lifeless corner store seething
purchasing vitamins like a lost puppy teething
When she handed back the change he found that all he had left was a pocket full of damp depressants and dreary days of melancholy.
I needed to wake up.
I needed to back off.
I heard the marching order tune
but I felt there was nothing I could do.
I needed to wake up.
I needed to back off.
I heard the marching order tune
but there was nothing I could do.
Who’s to say that the angel who rescued me from my foolish ways
would love me all the same?
Isn’t this the primal fear?
To empty heart in foul pursuits
and lose a will for passions that
bear the essential fruits?
A Fall From You
by The Cowl Editor on March 3, 2019
Poetry
by Sarah Kirchner ’21
It seemed as if it was another day
Of rolling out of bed with a bad start,
I know why it’s been this way.
Ever since I lost my work of art.
It was you who made me want to live,
And made me feel like a sun inside.
I pushed further because you were my drive.
You saw the potential, even though I denied.
But soon that feeling disappeared.
The sun you made became like dust,
And I became the person I feared.
And I started to wonder, what happened to trust?
You know you lost it all
Just like I lost you
Because you wanted to see a fall
And got lost in the view.
As My Eyes Quiver
by The Cowl Editor on March 3, 2019
Poetry
by Kiley McMahon ’20
The smell of alcohol lingers on his breath,
and the cup that he has just poured is caffeinated.
The two will wire him up to the greatest extent,
not that he needs to be any more excited.
My eye quivers,
it is still black and blue,
and the back of his fist,
remains of purple descent.
I have a disposable phone,
and my children,
ready to go.
He leaves for work,
drunk and caffeinated,
one final sloppy kiss,
and a grinning remark,
that I can no longer understand.
My final goodbyes,
are a blessing in disguise.
I move on my merry way,
away from black eyes,
and away from bloody,
purple fists.
Food for Thought
by The Cowl Editor on March 3, 2019
Poetry
by Sarah Heavren ’21
Mashed potatoes taste better with some lumps.
Granola tastes better with a few clumps.
French fries taste better when they are crinkled.
Raisins taste better when they are wrinkled.
Potato chips taste better when they have grooves.
Sometimes chunky can taste better than smooth.
Milkshakes taste better when they are quite thick.
S’mores taste better when the marshmallow sticks.
Pizza tastes better when the cheese bubbles.
Most pies taste better when the crust crumbles.
Brownies taste better when they are gooey.
Bread tastes better when it’s warm and chewy.
Ice cream tastes better when it melts and drips.
Cream tastes better when it’s over-whipped.
Overall, the parts of life that are best
Can be imperfect or can make a mess.
Sorry
by The Cowl Editor on March 3, 2019
Poetry
by Erin Lucey ’20
“I will not let you down again,” I say as I hang up the phone.
But how can I know that I am the one,
Viciously destroying each and every ounce of progress,
When all I am trying to do is heal?
I hope that one day you will realize,
That nothing I’ve done was ever meant to harm you.
And when you finally see it,
Can you show me?
Guilt is a funny thing.
Just when you finally free yourself,
From its excruciating grasp,
You wind up running back,
Reaching, stretching with eager arms.
Love Advice Haikus
by The Cowl Editor on February 14, 2019
Poetry
Love Advice Haikus
Flowers, lovers, greed.
Never had it but a dream.
Smoked, woked, make believe.
by Jay Willett ’20
If you are unsure
with what to do. Trust yourself,
And follow your heart.
by Sarah Kirchner ’21
Someday near or far,
I know that I will find you,
somewhere close or not.
by Kiley McMahon ’20
Did eyes connect? Blink.
Time, skip validation, think.
Love wields the senses.
by Sam Ward ’21
El Refresco De Un Cariño
by The Cowl Editor on February 14, 2019
Poetry
by Jessica Polanco ’20
To survive a little longer,
Gather all of the ingredients
That bring you life.
Set the stove at a low temperature,
Place the smallest pot above it with
A small amount of precipitation.
Once it all hydrates
Sprinkle the last bit of hope in your soul.
Next,
Invite the love of your life over and
Sprinkle the fear that whispers through his eyes
Allow the hope to burn,
Let the fear steam
Until you feel the heat
Against your skin.
Then,
Add a gallon of the treasure that finds itself locked up in your touch,
And ask your partner to pour out the last cup of passion
That he still stores in his ribs
Until it comes to a boil.
Add a pinch of the cariño that hides in the hugs,
And share a kiss before adding it into the pot.
Gather two cups,
And when you feel the steam against your heart,
Then you will know it’s time to pour it all out,
Equally amongst the uneven mugs,
And you can enjoy the warmth of the refreshment.
Gone For Valentine’s Day
by The Cowl Editor on February 14, 2019
Poetry
by Sarah Kirchner ’21
It was supposed to be a better day
A day of love and a feeling of happiness
But then he disappeared.
He left me alone for another girl.
Days were spent being each other’s.
Together we were strong, or at least I thought.
It felt like we could do anything,
Our love filled a room and made me believe.
I believed in a love that he created
With late night talks that ended with him
Holding me tight and a feeling of home.
For two years, he was my person.
He was my Valentine.
He was the world that I was living for,
And I know that wasn’t right.
I needed to live for myself
And be the better person I was before him.
This year, I’ll be my own Valentine,
And he can have her and be happy again.
He’ll be happier than he was with me,
But I’ll be happier too. I’ll be strong.
I’ll be my own, without him.