Tag: poetry
Who Are You?
by The Cowl Editor on January 18, 2018
Poetry
by Jessia Polanco ’20
When the sun guides your life
And the heat of our mother slaps your face
Everything is laid at your feet
And your smile spreads from cheek to cheek
Who are you?
When the wind sneaks into your pocket
The leaves fall again
They are crunchier than ever
Leaving only crumbles behind
And apples grow on the healthiest trees
Who are you?
When the breeze tingles on your skin
Everything is covered in a white blanket
Nothing is in your reach anymore
Out of sight
When you lose your grip
Who are you?
When the buds begin to flourish
And the rain rinses the dirt on your sidewalks
The roses surrounding you are crispy red
Your lungs begin to feel soft again
Who are you?
If The World Were White
by The Cowl Editor on January 18, 2018
Poetry
by Marelle Hipolito ’21
If the world were white, you would have no jokes.
You would just talk about the weather, who won last night
The guy or the girl, the couple in a fight
That is, if the world were white.
If the world were white, you would have no jokes
You would ask what I want to eat, what movie I’d want to see tonight
What dream car I want to buy
That is, if the world were white.
But, the world is not white. I am not white.
And we are not alright.
When I talk about the weather you ask how hot it was in my sweatshop
When I ask what happened last night, you ask if I saw the Border Patrol lights
Because the world is not white.
When I say I want to eat, you say you don’t like dog meat
When I want to watch a movie, you ask if my eyes are open, if I can actually see
When I describe my dream car, you say I’m an Asian girl, that I won’t even know how to drive
Because the world is not white.
I admit it, I do
Sometimes it’s innocent and funny, and I’ll laugh too
But a million pokes of a finger will turn into one stab of a knife
You laugh for a minute, I live with that stereotype my whole life
Because the world is not white.
December Magic
by The Cowl Editor on December 8, 2017
Christmas
by Sam Pellman ’20
One day it was August and the next it was December
This magical month seems to come when everyone needs it most.
December is truly magical, anything can happen.
It can be warm one day and snowing a white wonderland the next.
It’s the month that starts out stressful, but quickly brings peace.
The family all finally has an excuse to reunite and relax together, even just for a little.
Not only does December contain the excitement of Christmas
It gives us a time to reflect.
To reminisce on the good and bad times of the year;
It’s true when they say the best is saved for last
The close of December brings the close of the year
A whole chapter in life is ending, but ending in magic and never anything tragic.
December is full of surprises
Who says the end of the year can’t be the start of your new beginning?
Just as it snuck its way into our lives, it’ll be over just as quickly
So make sure you grab hold of December and let it sprinkle a little magic into your life before it’s too late.
The Gift
by The Cowl Editor on December 8, 2017
Christmas
by Connor Zimmerman ’20
It must be perfect,
It cannot be any ordinary object.
It must make her smile, laugh, and cry.
It should be the apple of her eye.
Browsing through the stores,
The clock is ticking, and doors are closing.
Sweat begins to run down my face,
It feels like I’m running in a race.
Her friends tell me it should be chic.
I’m actually starting to freak.
My friends tell me it should be legendary.
I might as well be buried.
Google tells me it should be from the heart.
Maybe I’m just not that smart.
I don’t know why I can’t think of anything,
Maybe it’s because this just isn’t any fling.
I really care about what she thinks of me,
And I was hoping this gift would fill her with glee.
Then an idea strikes me, and I know this is the one,
This is no hit, it’s a home run.
I give her the gift, and as she unwraps it,
I start to worry and think maybe it’s time to split.
She gasps and then hugs me tight.
I take a deep breath knowing it’s going to be all right.
She opens the scrapbook of our memories with much effect;
She closes it up and says it’s perfect.
Red and Green
by The Cowl Editor on December 8, 2017
Christmas
by Marelle Hipolito ’21
red. green. green, red.
what was once alive is now dead
red. green. green, red.
all because of something that should’ve been left unsaid
him, and his little bitta whiskey
me, and my now little brittle heart
why’d he have to open his mouth, and tear me apart?
now the chestnuts are cuts
the candy canes are pains
white Christmas, he drunkenly stained
red. green.
he wasn’t what he seemed.
red, to grinch green.
I became equally as mean.
broken ornaments and cold fireplaces, empty with no wood
blown out candles, no carolers in the neighborhood
dimmed star on the floor by the tree
unopened box of the nativity scene
why did he have to be so mean?
but, you glued the ornaments back together
made the embers spark, and fight back the cold weather
you sang songs of carolers down through the streets
lit the candles, and placed the star back on the top of the tree
next to a table where we set up the nativity scene
and you warmed my heart again, back to its size three
green, red.
you’re sweeter than gingerbread
green, to love red.
you’re the merry to my Christmas,
the end.
Overthinking Again
by The Cowl Editor on November 30, 2017
Poetry
by Julia Zygiel ’19
In the heat of imagination
You loved me back
Held me with the intention to keep me
In a haze of unreality everything has significance
your silence
your deafening blabber
the smallest sigh is despair
a half smile is the ecstasy of love
it encapsulated me
until it was all I could think of
all I could dream of
the echoes of it still haunt my dreams
Lost
by The Cowl Editor on November 30, 2017
Poetry
by Sam Pellman ’20
I’ve gotten lost multiple times in my life on multiple occasions.
I’ve gotten lost in the mall, roaming store after store until I don’t remember where I started.
I’ve lost my mom in the grocery store.
I’ve lost my car in the parking lot and spent 20 minutes trying to find it.
I’ve gotten lost in a corn maze.
I’ve been lost in an airport and missed my flight.
I’ve gotten lost on my college campus, walking into the wrong classroom.
I’ve lost my dad in Home Depot and had to use the loudspeaker to find him.
I’ve lost my phone in my pocket.
I’ve lost my sunglasses on my head.
I’ve lost myself in a daydream waking up to a disappointing reality.
I’ve gotten lost in a museum and it closed while I was still inside.
I’ve lost loved ones and friends.
I’ve lost games and contests.
I’ve lost my temper.
I’ve lost sight of what’s important.
I’ve lost my heart after I gave it to someone who dropped it.
I’ve gotten lost in the thrill of it all at times in my life,
But the one thing I refuse to ever lose is myself.
Your Majesty
by The Cowl Editor on November 30, 2017
Poetry
by Marelle Hipolito ’21
pebbles:
are in the ocean.
they stay in the background.
give all their life to
the surrounding ocean, and there is
nothing;
nothing left for them to uphold.
everything to love about them: gone.
Unless, of course, they are for the ocean.
They are beautiful when wet, with the ocean salt
They are loved when skipped, in the ocean
Only remembered and found, in the ocean.
moving with the flow, they agree to choices,
choices that they do not make for themselves.
These are choices that benefit the tide of the ocean
The wave of the ocean
Everything for the ocean
sacrificing their existence for the other.
colored gray, weathered by rough environment
harshness on their surfaces:
it makes them weak—dependent.
You made me YOUR PEBBLE.
Your life, YOU were the great wondrous ocean, and I, I!
I was merely a crumb under your fingernails but when you. needed. me—NO!
I, then, was so much MORE IMPORTANT.
you would not be ANYWHERE without me, the small, gray pebble that you molded into your slave
I used to be my own rock, confident and proud, but you seduced me into your waves
into the shriveled up person that I am now
I gave you EVERYTHING
this is how you REPAY ME?
you weakened and minimized me into this small
shy pebble that needed your approval for everything
YOUR MAJESTY—what should I do for you next?
Where do you want me to sit, where do you want me to stand?
what kind of tide should I flow with now?
What kind of wave should I bear with now?
High, low, it’s up to you! I am for you, only you, there is nowhere else to go to
whatever will appease you, great ocean king of my life
you put me down so you could step up on my shoulders so you can be at the great height you are at now
I used to be vibrant, full of life and joy and excitement then you pulled me with your crystal clear ocean waves and it was only then, when I became your pebble that I saw myself
STUCK in the swampy muddy waters of yours polluted with your deepest darkest secrets that I kept. for. YOU!
I HOPE YOU DROWN in your own ocean,
and become your own pebble
that will stay in the background.
Upon Finding A Volume of Famous Poetry
by The Cowl Editor on November 16, 2017
Poetry
by Jonathan Coppe ’18
Among the dusty shelves I see it nestled
—O wicked, foolish kin to leave it so!—
O, what dreams lie herein? What foreign lands
of sunset-colored love and joyful tears?
So off the shelf it comes and to a desk.
With greedy hands the cover comes undone.
And here I see some reference to a god
to whom the Ancient Greeks would slaughter lambs
immortalized in a now forgotten book.
—This fate does scarce inspire joy and awe…—
But half an hour in I have made out
that little have I grasped, although my eyes
run on and on and on across these lines.
Nor majesty nor beauty fill my heart.
Instead each weighty stanza more abstruse,
and every line the meaning veiled, opaque.
Could it be? This same world I lament
and sigh to see, is no less than the world
of poetry, and this is everything after all?
La Vida es Corta
by The Cowl Editor on November 16, 2017
Poetry
by Kiley McMahon ’20
La vida es corta,
La vie est courte,
La vita é breve,
Life is short.
Soy de España,
Je viens de la France,
Vengo dall’Italia,
I am from the United States.
I make millions of dollars,
While I find my next meal wherever I sleep.
I used to make millions,
But I lost my job and now I beg.
I used to find my next meal wherever I slept,
And you walked right on by,
Snickering and taunting.
It does not matter where you are from,
Or what your background is.
Life works in mysterious ways,
And we have to be cautious of its windy roads,
While treating others with the utmost amount of respect.
Soy de España,
And I am from the United States.
I am a millionaire,
and I find my next meal wherever I sleep.