Tag: poetry
Falling Out Of Old Habits
by The Cowl Editor on October 19, 2017
Portfolio
by Sam Pellman ’20
Just as the seasons change it is only right that we should too.
Following close behind Summer is Fall ready to show the world its charm.
Yet the beginning of Fall doesn’t mean the end of bliss.
It means a chance to restart and get a grip on life.
With each leaf that falls off the trees comes a new opportunity.
An opportunity to fall out of old habits and create new ones.
Fall is a time to let go of anything in the past that is stopping you from moving forward.
To embrace Fall is to let yourself fall.
Throw away any toxic thoughts or people just as the trees throw away their leaves.
Let the cool air hit your face and allow you to feel alive again.
Take in the smells of cinnamon, spices, apples, and pumpkins
And let go of the ocean mists and the smoky smell of late night bonfires for a little bit.
Hear the wind whistle and the leaves crunch.
And understand that this wind carries a choice you can take to change your routines.
Each season only lasts for so long; this new start to your life may be short-lived, so enjoy it while it lasts.
It’s unnatural for something to stay the same for too long…
Both seasons and humans need constant change and different experiences.
But remember Summer will find its way back again.
But this time you’ll look forward to the start of Fall.
Because you know it’s your short time to simply start over and let yourself finally fall.
In-Between
by The Cowl Editor on October 19, 2017
Portfolio
by Jessica Polanco ’20
If I had to choose between the moon and the sun
I would choose to stay in-between. I would make believe that the skies in my world
Can stay gray forever. I would swim in belief that the night and day are no home for my soul.
Although it shines bright, the sun and the light
It just doesn’t seem right to fly alone with so much wisdom in things that only a few people know.
The anxiety to share this gift overtakes my mind, but knowing no one will understand, holds me back.
Something so powerful, yet so worthless.
The true meaning of life equals no treasure at all, knowing everything means being a master at knowing nothing.
The sun and the light, it blinds one person into a box.
Others who know share similar dialect that call this place home,
Makes them feel whole but isolated from what the future holds.
They realize that the reality is unknown.
Night, where nothing is bright.
The dot of light brings hope in these lives that share so much pain.
The only goal known in the life obtained,
Is survival.
Muppets mesmerized by dead presidents and bills,
Forgetting that it’s possible to get ill.
Forced injections of puzzling life mazes, while they laugh above you at your misfortune.
Assembled incentive molded by dollars elevate prison bars in people’s minds making it impossible to reach day time.
In my home, this chase of fortune, blocking out mindful wealth is considered a crime.
Perplexing voyage, I dream of a home in the sky between the dusk and dawn.
Happiness fills my mind when I know it all and when I know nothing at all.
My Soul
by The Cowl Editor on October 5, 2017
Portfolio
by Jonathan Coppe ’18
I passed tonight beside some trash
Within the nooks and crannies of a midnight street,
Remains of a festivity since passed,
A joy once in this space but now moved on.
Is not this space so like my soul,
This sometime temple of a distant joy,
Now only a wasteland for litter?
Or rather a spectacle, once bright and sweet
That shone and drew the smiling eyes of all?
The spectacle now demolished, cleared away,
The mixed, neglected refuse forms a scene
Meant only for the tragic souls of this world,
To see and feed their rambling melancholy.
Was all this meant when that poet said,
“My soul is an empty carousel at sunset?”
Giving Up
by The Cowl Editor on October 5, 2017
Portfolio
by Connor Zimmerman ’20
I wait for you, just trying to think
About how I can ease the pain,
Being torn between my heart and brain.
Because it’s all about to sink.
We walk along two different roads,
Time always keeping us apart,
Constantly stabbing us in the heart.
Never living the show, just episodes.
I just feel so paralyzed,
’Cause we both know that it’s true:
I’ve been giving up on you.
It has all been compromised.
So please don’t give me that glare,
You know that we’ve lost our spark,
And we’re stumbling in the dark.
We’re just living in despair.
If I could fix what is broken,
I would strive to bridge our divide,
And never have you leave my side.
The final word must be spoken.
Once we’re done I have just one thought,
Your longing green eyes streaming with blue:
I hate that I gave up on you.
In the end, I was made to be distraught.
Hidden Beneath
by The Cowl Editor on October 5, 2017
Portfolio
by Marisa Gonzalez ’18
Beneath the murk,
Beneath the sea,
A World is hidden,
From you and me.
From the surface
One could see
A web of branches
As wondrous as can be.
Underwater
There is more.
A whole garden
At its core.
Flowers grow.
Creatures roam.
For thousands
It is home.
Families form.
Children play.
A city thrives,
Growing every day.
Under the surface,
Just below your feet,
Is this world,
Hidden beneath.
Rocks
by The Cowl Editor on September 28, 2017
Portfolio
by Jay Willett, ’20
A sunset in a picture doesn’t capture its beauty.
The golden rim, rust-painted wood,
Sleeping alone, cold nights,
What will last longer?
Looked upon as pretty, nobody truly means that.
If it were beautiful, it would be out to see,
Instead it’s put away and marked.
When it arrives only wood shows,
Not that it matters.
It’s part of the art gallery;
A collection of sculptures, fragments of memory.
The child sees these engraved, beautifully designed rocks.
Not as beautiful as what was beneath,
Lined up neatly, she giggles and tugs her mother’s hand.
But they don’t move
None of them do
None of them will.
Perhaps it’s confusion towards art that keeps us alive,
Mysterious allure of symmetry, order, and pattern,
The woman doesn’t move, illustrated with water.
Normally it’s frowned upon to touch such art,
But she grasps the flag, nobody in the gallery halts her
They spend the most time on this work,
All the other stones lay still, watching.
The world is quiet for them
The silence between the tears
The sun sets.
Daydream
by The Cowl Editor on September 28, 2017
Portfolio
by Marelle Hipolito, ’21
I woke up, and I already knew you were there
I felt you before I saw you
I knew you before I heard you
Like how I loved you before I met you
The weight of your body on the edge of my bed was so familiar
Like how the sun spills in through the window every morning
And drowns my room in its light
I turned around and I fell into the little indent where you were sitting
I sunk into the warmth of your body
You were looking on me patiently, waiting for me, as always
To get up and go with you, as always
You told me, let’s go, and we did
Everything that we wanted to do
Walk down the street
Through the shops
Run through plaza fountains
Drive around the city
With the windows down
Blasting our songs
Everything we wanted to do
We did
But then
the clock sounded
It blared through air
Rang in our ears, making us cower in its presence
and panic struck our hearts and minds and told us what to do but not what we should do and what we wanted to do but not what we needed to do
And the vibration of its dreadful roar
The bite in the forbidden apple
Made an overwhelming split in between and destroyed
us
My best friend
Half of me
All my heart and soul
Was now
someone I could touch but couldn’t feel
Could meet but never know
Could look at but never saw
and could never love
The clock ended its howl
But the apple fell on the ground, rotten
And the ripples of the water remained
So
We went back in time.
Everything we did
Was undone
We walked up the street
Out the shops
Drove back from the city
With the windows up and
In silence
And back onto my bed
Where you got up, told me you were going to go, and you did
You didn’t even wait for me
You didn’t even look at me
I pulled a blanket over my body
Because it was cold without the heat of yours
And I turned back around from the empty edge of the bed
Since there was no indent of you to fall into
It was so unfamiliar
Like the tension of the last five months
My eyes wet because of you
Like my heart breaking when you told me it never would
The sun set, draining my room of the light it drowned my room in
Like you, draining my life of the love you drowned me in
And knowing I was alone, I went back to sleep
With the dream of what was supposed to be
With the dream of what if it was you and me
With the dream of our meant to be
With this dream
I went back to sleep
Dear Father
by The Cowl Editor on September 21, 2017
Portfolio
by Kiley McMahon ’20
Dear Father,
As I walked through the rain,
drenched and frigid,
I watched the soldiers march,
one by one,
concealing their every fear
from those around them.
As I carried the half loaf bread,
worth only 50 cents,
to our family of five,
I tried to think of a logical explanation
for why the bread stood as I stood,
hard cold and frigid.
I am not the mother of our family,
but the oldest daughter,
a descendant of you,
a soldier that concealed his every fear
from those around him.
Starved as we are,
the love for our family continues to grow.
I have gotten my first job,
and in doing so,
I have learned the ways in which
to perfectly polish all shoes.
The tombstone that stands for you
marks your favorite words,
“Stand true and tall,
smile through the hunger,
and dance through the pain and fear.”
If I do these things
that you believe,
I will be held in a decent light,
until death part me from this wonderful life
that is full of adventures, fears,
and cold hard nights
that stand like the bread
that I brought to our family
on that one stormy night.
Thank you for being a soldier,
one of complete bravery and faith;
may your soul live on,
and your destiny never be forgotten.
thank you for teaching me the ways of life,
and for standing brave and tall,
putting yourself in a harmonious light.
Sincerely,
your eldest daughter,
whose name must remain concealed,
for I fear the safety
of my very life,
as well as the safety
of our family of five.
A New Beginning
by The Cowl Editor on September 14, 2017
Portfolio
By Kiley McMahon ’20
Portfolio Staff
He sits,
lingers,
paces,
runs,
and begs.
He is starved,
parched,
alone,
and weary.
He takes a train,
far far away,
from chaos,
and clutter,
that his future life brought.
A new beginning,
a bottle released,
left to scavenge,
along with the past life,
that he so wished to alter.
A new beginning,
for a man lost in the wind.
A bottle released,
from his cold and pruned hand.
Right Person, Wrong Time?
by The Cowl Editor on September 14, 2017
Portfolio
by Sam Pellman ’20
Portfolio Staff
What had the potential to be the perfect summer instead turned into the summer of realization.
The realization that sometimes no matter how hard you try or how badly you want it, love just isn’t enough.
It isn’t enough right now, in this moment, but with time and growth it very well could be.
Three months had gone by since she saw him last. He had the appearance of a stranger, yet knew every little secret of her past.
It hurt to look at him, so she decided to look down. But when their eyes did meet, it was as if all the pain he had caused was suddenly gone.
“How did I let you go?” he whispered as the raindrops danced along the car windshield. But all she could attempt to mumble was “I don’t know…”
Tears leaked from his eyes, but surprisingly none from hers. She had drenched her pillow with messy tears and makeup for nights and nights; it seemed now they were simply dry.
He kept claiming he made the biggest mistake of his life. This normally would be her solace, but instead the words felt like a knife.
“But it’s too late…,” she said, her head in her hands. “I hope to God it’s not,” his voice said with a slight crack.
Her heart had formed a stone wall, it needed to protect itself. Yet, he could always somehow slip right back in and settle in the empty holes that begged for affection.
So he grabbed her face and kissed it hard, but her body was too numb to pull away. “That kiss feels like home to me,” is all he managed to say.
The rain was getting louder, the clock now almost said 1 a.m. The reality that this could be the very last time she saw him began quickly to sink in.
“I wish you the best, I want you to be happy,” she lied, pushing back the tears she now felt coming. “This won’t be the last time I see you, this isn’t goodbye,” he whispered, that sparkle she had missed twinkling in his eye.
Every ounce of him loved her and her heart could not help but feel the same. Yet, space and time is what they needed to understand love is anything but a game.
The world has a funny way of bringing back together what is meant to be. For when love gains back the strength it so desperately needs, the right person will be back at the right time; just wait and see.