by The Cowl Editor on November 19, 2018

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by Sam Pellman ’20

Wish yourself luck before that big exam.
Pat yourself on the back when you get the score you wanted.
Give yourself that pep talk you know you need.
Buy yourself the coffee when you’ve had the day from hell.

Compliment yourself when you look in the mirror.
Think highly of yourself, but don’t compare yourself to others.
Push your limitations and test your abilities.
Root for yourself.

Be kind to your body, it is the only one you have.
Put your mental health first.
Notice your mistakes, learn from them.
Thank yourself every day.

Pick yourself up when you fall down.
Wipe your own tears.
Heal your own pain with the help of time.
Track your own growth and remember where you started from.

Be your own biggest fan…
Believe in yourself when no one else would
And never forget to love, love, love yourself,
Because at the end of the day, you are all you have.

by The Cowl Editor on November 1, 2018

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by Estarlyn Hiraldo ’21

My identity —
Think it’s all been a success
Listen to the verses in my head
when I address
Failure at its best
Told me I’m a mess
Feel the melanin out of control
inside the chess

When can I confess?
No longer hold this heft
Claim that they’re the greatest
on the pavement or the nest
Settling for less
Never did they bless
The fear inside my cheers
Man, how could they possibly forget?

Columbus at his quest
Never took a rest
Enslaving all his children,
Carry gold to reach the crest

Blend colors like a vest
More
Conquer to the West
Lord
Save me from this misery
Human body picaresque

Injecting me with fear
Near
They all disappear
Dear
White men on the road
told me not to persevere
Hear
My men, they complain
Grain
Feeding us the same
Name
White is who to blame
When the Blacks all die in vain

Picking coffee sugar beans
Tell me what you really mean
Say our breath brings out the drought
Struggle, that’s what we’re about
Still we’re building up a plan
can you all just understand?
Find a way to see our soul
Never have we reached our goal

Come ahead to feel our tears
Bloody skin screaming with cheers
Our hands are cuffed with braces
While these angels hate our races
You crumble our skin like tree trunks
Spill our blood on your streets, son
We do so much for you now
But you all should fear when it’s time
See us guiding all our troops
Fear my people when they’re free

Seek to reach salvation
To liberate our nation
From the poison of the West
Protecting at their best.

by The Cowl Editor on November 1, 2018

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by Eliana Lopez ’22

She’s hung up on her ex
Not ready to let you
Into the inner workings of her heart
While the traces of his intention still linger in the edge of all her scars

Try not to take it personally
The way she holds you
Then changes her mind
She just can’t get accustomed to the difference
The weight of all you’re willing to give her is far more
Than the boy before you ever even offered

So don’t take it personally
There’s little she can do to erase him
So she’s letting time take control
Letting the minutes, hours, days, and nights
Without him
Rust the edges of her that he lay claim to

But for now she chose you to make her feel shiny
Refusing to let you take her away before she’s even her own again
Letting you lose yourself in her
To replace the part of her she lost in him

Don’t take it personally
Don’t get angry for what he took
For what she cannot give you

Be cautious
What she doesn’t have she will find in you
What she wants she will take from you
And odds are you will give and give and give
Like I gave and gave and gave
Until you’re
A shell of yourself
Taking from someone else
What she took from you

by The Cowl Editor on November 1, 2018

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by William Bozian ’19

I do not decide who I am, for who I am is decided by another.
Some may think I strive to harm, but some may see me as their brother.
All in all, who I am comes down to my beliefs,
Because beliefs often act as our own thieves.

My beliefs indirectly steal my identity.
They can change what others see inside of me,
But I cannot blame them, for the hatred I receive.
For it all comes down, to those
Who see me as a blind devotee.
Of a pointless faith, of an erroneous belief.

My religion should not have any set of stereotypes,
And I should not be judged by how I define posthumous paradise.
And the hatred that some release on me and my faithful brothers,
Should not be born from the actions of others.

I will not be judged by another man’s violent doing,
Because violence is not something that I am pursuing.
I will not be judged for what certain people may be,
It does not matter if they look like me, or if they are
Similar, religiously.

Deeply seeded feelings of animosity,
That due to ignorance are targeted at me.
Some are ignorant of how equal we were all meant to be,
And thus, they treat religious others as mere, mediocrities.

Some are blinded by their isolating doctrines,
and look upon others of different faiths as simply mad fiends.
Some may stand to watch this happen, but some may stay to intervene.
I just hope that tomorrow, we may be able to convene.
And that we may see one another for who we really are,
Without having religious bias rooted in our hearts.

I hope that tomorrow, this shameful feud will end,
And no matter your religion, I can truly call you my friend.
And I hope that in spite of our faiths, we will look upon others
As part of our families, and as loving brothers.
And that I will be equal
In the eyes of another.

by The Cowl Editor on October 25, 2018

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TickTok TickTok Tick
I feel it running after me
Its breath on my neck.
—Jessica Polanco ’20

 

I can’t feel myself.
No one hears me talk to them
Is this death for me?
—Connor Zimmerman ’20

 

I hear a shuffle
And a chill goes down my back
All I see are eyes
—Sam Pellman ’20

 

It lived in Mary’s room
Mom blamed imagination
But I felt its breath
—Julia Zygiel  ’19

 

Late October thoughts
Of pumpkin pies, sugar highs,
Warm nostalgic hearts.
—Erin Venuti ’20

 

Aura of horror:
Ghosts, witches, black cats are nigh.
The best time of year.
—Sam Ward ’21

by The Cowl Editor on October 25, 2018

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by Sam Ward ’21

It’s okay. You can look away.
Still fixated at the heap of feathers and blood at our feet:
I’ve seen dozens of dead birds and have had perfectly splendid days.
Perfectly. Splendid.

Perhaps if I knew our correspondence would be,
Stockholm / Lima,
I would have chosen my words more carefully,
Or I would have trusted the omen.

Picking apart the dwindling hours we had left,
Plausible pleasure from a desire for purpose.
I wish I could run it back and leave.
Really, I just wish I would have left the corpse alone.

Because I lost my autonomy,
Following morbid thoughts,
Reaping what I sowed,
Aviary horrors only curses could produce.

Stepping into the antiquated nest,
Searching for adventure, settling for misery.
Shield me from the onset,
Clipped wings are anything but correct.

Me, like a lemming leaping to my death,
My fate leading me astray, naïve.
The wind would reject my wings.
Oh how, the dead bird still sings.

by Andrea Traietti on October 18, 2018

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by Sam Ward ’21

One of these days

I’ll challenge myself and put together the words that spell out b-e-a-u-t-y
I’ll pen the pursuit and capture the prize
I’ll thank my girl for kissing my scars
I’ll have no need for desire

One of these days

I won’t romanticize the end of times being the best of times
I won’t pretend it’s all gloom and no glory
I won’t sleep through class and I will start reading, maybe writing, maybe exercising
I won’t let my ego idolize a case
                                                      of spiritual malnutrition
clara clara clara clara clara clara  of material fixation

One of these days

I am going to write inspired works and perhaps,
                                  perhaps burn the fire that combusts inside of me
I am going to love to be loved and bring dream to conception
I am going to rework the very design of the process
I am going to wear my smile and mean it
One of these days,

clara clara clara clara clara clara  I am going to say something and actually believe it.

by Andrea Traietti on October 18, 2018

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by Marelle Hipolito ’21

Staring out this window
Watching the world pass by
I can’t help but wonder
If you’ll be fine

I’ve done this before
I’ve known this hurt
Everyone walks in then out of my sight
But with you I’m not sure

People staring into this window
I have never known privacy
A rule I have to accept
In this harsh world’s reality

But somehow, you got through
You saw from the outside
While everyone turned and moved on
You chose to come inside

Staring at that door
I’m nervous, I’m scared
I’ve never needed to lock it
But to open it­—no one has ever dared

Make sure you’re ready
Don’t be one to runaway
I’m one hell of a roller coaster
Please hold on and stay

by Andrea Traietti on October 18, 2018

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by Jessica Polanco ’20

I am now destined to feed strangers.
Those who once knew me
Lost every trace of trust;
That has been lost in the dark skies
Under which I begged for all of this to become my reality.

To one day wake up in black, silk satin sheets—
And today, they cover my back as I stare
At the chandelier that glares
From the eyes of a man I married in the middle of this journey
Because we were once both teenagers,
At each end of this country waking up in the middle of the night
Hungry and in agony.
We dreamt of being served
Platinum platters of
Bedazzled seafood
And delicious-filled intentions.

He just married me to serve looks to the public,
And I said I do
For the same reasons, too.

This mansion is filled
With maids who don’t know my childhood name;
These marbled floors,
This view of the mountains resting on the ocean,
And this diamond ring
Is evidence
That you can die in heaven.

I’ve purified my hands
By the holiest of seas
But when the water slips
Through the cracks of my fingers,
I hear every soul I’ve abandoned to get where
I needed to be.
I hear my best friend saying
She doesn’t know who I am anymore.
My sister asks me if she even knew me at all.
From miles away, I trace
The voice of the boy who I love.
Tonight, he’s in bed with his back to his wife
Because I’ve broken all that he can be.
I stroll through the evergreen garden with a view
Of the reddest roses you’ll ever see
And feel my mother against my skin
Reminding me
That she is ashamed of me.

—

The corners of my eyes witness
A gallery of trophies
With my name shining on each edge,
And colorful books stacked
Stored with my truths.
I place one foot in front of the other
And carry out this burdensome pride
Into my Bentley coupe
And drive into the sunset
That kisses the 90210 city line.

by Andrea Traietti on October 18, 2018

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by Gabriela Baron ’20

If I could have anything, I would choose a mason jar.
Not one filled with caramel candies
or crumbled pocket money,
but one holding light.
Light that radiates:
the rush of riding a perfect wave
and the vivid memory a song brings.
A worn out, well-loved book
and a puppy’s slobbery kisses.
A baby’s uncontrollable laughter,
sighs of relief,
and extra time.

I’d bring that jar with me
and share it with:
The boy sobbing
because he lost his little league game.
The teenager
who flunked her final,
the uncle
who never calls his family,
and the sibling
who always feels second best.
The bride that walks down the aisle
without her Dad,
the mailman
who never gets a “thank you,”
and your neighbor
who lies in bed, staring at the empty pillow beside her.

I would give it to them
so the boy
will want to play again,
and the teenager will learn
scores don’t measure her success.
The uncle will come home for Christmas,
and the sibling will realize
there’s no competition for a parent’s love.
The bride will feel her father’s presence,
the mailman will know he matters,
and your neighbor will remember,
she’s not alone.

If I could have anything,
I would have a jar
that lights up the darkest miseries of life.