Tag: poetry
Auntie
by The Cowl Editor on February 1, 2018
Portfolio
by Jay Willett ’20
The crimson tablecloth sprang up with the cold fall breeze,
My great uncle had opened the window for a smoke,
But the wind rejected it, spiraling it in our full faces.
We were all there, hadn’t happened for a while.
We all lived across the country, some in others.
But this holiday was different,
My heart hung on the edge of my seat,
We weren’t brought together by celebration
Or new life
Or change
It took time, nostalgia, and misfortune.
We laughed, at each other, with each other,
Smiling because the wind outside was finally outside for a moment.
When the meal was finished, the kids cheered on for dessert,
While the men hollered for more beer,
The women grinned and sipped more of their wine,
And I sat still waiting for auntie to bring back the most delicious apple pie
I was lucky that I got to live near her all these years,
She lived close, unlike the rest.
Her apple pie would be the star of dinner
Its slices would glisten like wet autumn leaves outside
She smiled as she placed the platter
I took my eyes off the dessert for a second,
Her eyes were locked on the wind outside and sighed,
“A shame we can’t do this again next year.”
I’m Not Sorry Anymore
by The Cowl Editor on February 1, 2018
Portfolio
by Sam Pellman ’20
I said sorry when you broke my heart
I waited for an apology but gave you over a hundred
I let you hurt me and I blamed myself
But I’m not sorry anymore
I’m not sorry you walked away when I thought I needed you the most
I’m not sorry you told me you’d never leave but one day were gone
I’m not sorry I fell so hard for you; it’s taught me everything
I’m not sorry I centered my world around you because I know now you are not the sun; I am
I’m not sorry I wasn’t enough for you, because I know I was too much for you to handle
I’m not sorry I spent nights crying, shedding over a thousand tears; each one had a purpose
I’m not sorry I deleted your number; it’s of no use for me now
I’m not sorry I hid all your letters; at one point they meant the world, now they are just words on a page
I’m not sorry you didn’t know what you wanted, I know you are confused
I’m not sorry that maybe one day we’ll run into each other after all these months; trust me, I can handle it now
I’m not sorry I still love you; I don’t think I could ever stop
But most importantly, I’m not sorry that I’m happy without you
I’m finally alive
I don’t wish you the best, but I don’t wish you the worst; I simply wish you what you deserve
I do hope you’re happy, but if you’re not…
I’m just not sorry anymore.
Cento
by The Cowl Editor on February 1, 2018
Portfolio
by Marisa DelFarno ’18
I was much further out than
a lost star’s way.
I was trotting along
a route obscure.
Boundless and
bare. Bathe myself
in strangeness,
under the surge of
the blue veritable
ocean. Marvels of form
and gravity. The moving
waters, the enormous
avenues, going on and
on—sinkin’ deeper,
deeper. Taken root like
a stone. There, in
a black-blue vault, I
could no longer
voyage—closed and
done. And if I
become once more
the old traveler—I
learn by going. I
no longer felt myself
guided by a crumb
of the wrong
winds.
Living On The Clock
by The Cowl Editor on February 1, 2018
Portfolio
by Connor Zimmerman ’20
Staring at the ceiling, with a common feeling.
Trying to leave my bed and overcome this dread.
I steel my nerves, cause I’m living on the reserves.
My alarm won’t stop, I slam the button on top.
Punching in, punching out,
I’m living on the clock.
Looking at the board, it’s pretty clear that I’m bored.
The professor moans on, I respond with a yawn.
My eyes begin to close, and it feels like time slows.
The bell rings, with a sigh I gather all my things.
Punching in, punching out,
I’m living on the clock.
Sitting in a chair, with a feeling of despair.
The homework is not done, and it feels like a ton.
With no motivation, I sit in frustration.
Hearing that sound, everything fades to the background.
Punching in, punching out,
I’m living on the clock.
Day does turn to night, but that does not help my blight.
Limping to my dorm, inside rage brews like a storm.
I can’t unlock my door, feeling mentally sore.
Finally, in bed bracing for the day ahead.
Punching in, punching out,
I’m living on the clock.
Shallow
by The Cowl Editor on January 25, 2018
Portfolio
by Jay Willett ’20
Whether it’s exercise or stress, the sweat is the same,
Slow, hot, sometimes worth it, sometimes not.
She made me feel like I sprinted 200 laps,
She watched me run and run, as fast as I could,
Until the breath I was breathing wasn’t my own.
Still I gasped for air.
The goal still tens of laps away,
Already ran far from where I began.
Willingly, passionately, adamantly,
Regrettably.
During breaks the laps increased.
She wasn’t cheering me on at the finish line anymore.
My back twanged, my ears burned, my heart sunk deep,
To watch her’s float to the shallows.
I feel the same sweat trickle down my throbbing legs.
She was cheering again, too far away to see for who.
Warm wind from the south.
I look back.
The track seemed unfamiliar, but nostalgic.
I smiled.
She can wait at the finish line all she wants.
I turned, and took the first step back.
18
by The Cowl Editor on January 25, 2018
Portfolio
by Erin Lucey ’20
Let regret get lost in the noise
And pain be forgotten with the night.
Count down to the future
And be the reason it’s bright.
Bring with you those who inspire,
And abandon those who restrain.
Let the lessons stick with you
But the clock dissolve the stain.
Hoping to grow,
And planning to accept,
While promising to cherish
And have a soul well kept.
Holding onto the best,
But letting my heart enjoy the fresh air,
Because you can’t dance in the rain
Without wetting your hair.
Who Are You?
by The Cowl Editor on January 18, 2018
Portfolio
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
Portfolio
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
Portfolio
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
Portfolio
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.