Tag: poetry
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.
Full Circle
by The Cowl Editor on August 31, 2017
Portfolio
by Marisa DelFarno, ’18
Portfolio Staff
What comes full circle?
A raindrop descending into the ocean.
Ice meeting heat’s devotion.
The caged electric flow in a closed circuit.
The sour workings of karma’s service.
We all obey this motion
like the path has been previously woven,
but, does deviation have any purpose?
Well, maybe there is a fixed design,
and trust has to be settled on something unseen;
a route that is inescapable, curved, and never-ending,
and everything is harmonized, intertwined,
blending like the ripples in the sea;
a flow that we are all attending.
Baby Boy
by The Cowl Editor on April 27, 2017
Portfolio
Photo courtesy of Alamy.com
Matt Farrell ’17
“I grew up on the Southside.”
We first meet a young baby boy, bright-eyed,
Beautiful black skin seeing the world for the first time.
His parents looked at each other and knew of the daunting climb
But didn’t expect to take upon the role of Atlas,
And as this boy begins to speak,
His daddy was gone, leaving the family up the creek.
See, his father got in a little trouble with Johnny Law,
Deported from the country leaving Baby Boy with his mom,
But Baby Boy barely knew him, so there was no time for sobs.
“You ever see your mom cry providing for you?”
Ten years later Baby Boy, a young man,
Sees Mama shedding tears so he grabs for her hand.
Later that day he walks up to D-Day,
Who reps the color red from around way,
Asking for any favors needed;
D-Day declined but Baby Boy heeded.
See money was tight but anguish is loose.
D-Day gave Baby Boy the option of a path to choose.
“There were some days I had to bring a gun to school.”
Baby Boy now a “man” at the tender age of fourteen,
Crime record follows him like a shadow he has never seen.
D-Day has died and he’s paying Mama’s bills.
In school Baby Boy has no desire to learn
Because an education never helped anyone.
Pens and pencils were replaced by pieces and pistols,
And those bright eyes glazed over with hatred of all folk.
“It’s hard to escape, you know?”
After school Baby Boy heads over to Southside,
And visits with some friends as they begin a wild ride,
When he returns home Mama sees no more love,
As being a man has made her Baby Boy numb.
Violence has taken over his bloodstream,
And that’s when I give him homework.
“It’s quite simple,” I begin,
“Go home, hug your mother, and tell her you love her.”
The next morning I walk in and Baby Boy has a grin,
“I did it,” the only homework he ever completed.
The story is all true of a “thug” or a “criminal,”
But to me Baby Boy is on his way to a true man.