by The Cowl Editor on November 12, 2020

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Poetry

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by Marelle Hipolito ’22

i’m no Jesus, i’m no Son of Man
i’m no Heaven, i’m no Sacrificial Lamb
i wish
i could take away all of your pains
i could wipe away all your mistakes
but no
i’m no Jesus
i can’t save your soul 

you tell me you are afraid of Hell
but your sins only hurt yourself
you tell me you wanna be good
but you don’t do what you know you should
you tell me that ‘baby, i love you’
but you hide from the Truth that
you really need Jesus
to save your soul

i know you crave purpose and you want to change
i know you are lost, please let Him give you grace
oh my love, rejoice for He is King
oh my love, please open your heart and let Him in

i’m no Jesus, i’m no Son of Man
i don’t know Heaven, i’m not the Sacrificial Lamb
and i wish i could be Anointed to be the one to save you
but i need Jesus too

 

by The Cowl Editor on November 12, 2020

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Poetry

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by Sarah Heavren ’21

Here’s to the team
That jokes and laughs
That will go long
For the deep pass.

Here’s to the team
Unique in type
“Fat Bottomed Girls”
And Braveheart hype.

Here’s to the team
That takes the field
Hammers only
With extra zeal.

Here’s to the team
That will not quit
No matter what
We’re ultimate.

 

 

by The Cowl Editor on October 29, 2020

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Halloween

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by Sam Ward ’21

What made you, killer?
Like some deranged son of Cain,
Primordial vision on predatory
Impulses pulled from your
Triune brain off kilter,
Are you reptilian or a person?

Who awoke you, monster?
Your limbic still intact
Except for the pleasure
Derived from bloodlust and
Philic for dormant urges,
That should remain latent.

Why are you, devil?
Kill the innocent but they are no
sacrificial lamb, just new followers
For your Church of Shadows,
Every body a trophy,
Everybody a victim.

What now, demon?
Made or unmade, just disappearing
Differences, scolding hot inside
The icy channels of our minds.

We all have monsters,
Under our beds and inside our hearts.
We have a lot to reckon with.
There is a killer in all of us.

 

by The Cowl Editor on October 29, 2020

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Halloween

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by Anna Pomeroy ’24

I feel you lurking––
Peering your head out from behind the wall.
Your glaring presence disrupts the vision from the corner of my eye.
I quickly turn my cheek, hoping to catch a glimpse––
Reassurance that maybe I am just crazy, or perhaps I am dying. 

Sweat beads begin to trace down my hairline, caressing my cheek.
Is it really today?
Am I going to die?

I mean, technically I am.
Every day, every minute, every second,
Is one closer to death.

Your existence is wanted, yet many times necessary.
And while you strip away innocent souls,
You are a bandaid to an infinitely bleeding wound. 

You stand awkwardly in the corner of the hospital room.
Like a middle school boy nervously waiting under the flashing disco light––
Not sure when to make the final move,
When to lean over the person with your wings spread and give them the kiss.
The kiss–– so gentle, yet so deceiving.
It’s as if you can see the thick fog of the soul being vacuumed up.

We are all dying, you just seem to choose when––
When to stitch up a wound that will only create an even wider one in someone else.

 

by The Cowl Editor on October 15, 2020

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Poetry

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by Grace O’Connor ’22

I was a glass doll stuck to a white shelf
People would step back and admire, but comment on my silence
I was fragile, and kept on a shelf high above from all the danger that crept below
Every crack in me was patched and all the dust cleared off
I was pushed far away from the edge
In case I’d fall and break into a million pieces on the floor that eyed me from below
I faded into the background until I caught one’s eye
They watched me with intent, then would look away
As my silence would lead them to lose their intrigue
Their slow glance away felt like a stab in my delicate chest
The warmth I received came from sunlight that would shine on me briefly
Bringing out the color in my eyes, quickly fading away
To show the hollowness that lies behind
I sit on the shelf still, watching life play out before my eyes
Until I am replaced, I long to feel the excitement of life below

 

by The Cowl Editor on October 15, 2020

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Poetry

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by Sam Ward ’21

Last gen not with it,
Sick blood so guilty.
Ten years no limits
Now just— 

Abandon sweetness,
It’s the consequence,
Of genes and failing images
Nobody wants to tell you what
The worst case really is. 

Is it self pity or stealth writing?
Truth hides behind stanzas,
Lies directly on lines,
Diatribes on lives
Lost. 

We all already lost.
Last chance reaping what we
Sow but gotta do it, no jokes,
Immature when close.
Rock the boat no row,
Floating forward, just winded.
Exhaustion means praying for remission.

These flavors frequent the frequency
Painting palettes, the decency
Is a face you wear.
While the sky rains sucrose
None of us care.
Hide behind pronouns but 

I don’t write to be heard.
I just write and share secrets.

 

by The Cowl Editor on October 15, 2020

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Poetry

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by Taylor Rogers ’24

A rainbow of colors fall from the sky,
Invading every inch of Slavin’s grass field.
Students aimlessly walk throughout campus,
Wondering when the current lockdown will yield.

As the rainbow falls, the wind begins to blow,
Persuading people to take out their sweaters.
With pumpkin spice coffees in hand, students rush to class,
Hoping that soon, everything will be better.

The rainbow of leaves fly,
Their orange, red, and yellow hues flee into students’ dorm rooms.
Amazed, they wistfully look out their windows,
Knowing that soon, fall and her beauty will begin to bloom.

More leaves fall from the trees, their color reminding students
That, yes, fall has finally appeared.
Excitedly, students begin to buy Halloween candy,
Snacking away and hoping Halloween this year isn’t weird.

The leaves soon turn into piles,
These clumps, the same size as the stacks of notes on students’ desks.
As the students begin to work, the piles begin to shrink,
And they find themselves looking for something to cure their feelings of unrest.

More days pass by and the leaf clumps grow,
Beginning their invasion of PC’s grassy fields.
Meanwhile, the students invest themselves in fall activities,
Ready to see what this fall will yield.

Giggles erupt as students jump into leaf piles,
Their inner child letting worry turn to glee.
With grins on hidden under their masks, students play,
And the atmosphere around Providence feels more carefree.

The piles of leaves grow and grow,
Matching the rate of people’s smiles and new friends.
While the leaves die around them, the students still have hope,
Knowing that like the seasons, this pandemic is sure to end.

 

by The Cowl Editor on October 15, 2020

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Poetry

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by Sarah Heavren ’21

A rainbow of colors
A gentle breeze
Tickling the branches
Waving at me. 

Little squirrels scampering
Across the grass
The smell of the season
Coming to pass. 

Cloudless, deep blue skies
The freshest air
Crisp as a tart apple
Grown with true care. 

Winter is drawing near
With a bleak hue.
But winter brings changes
That will change too. 

In moments of sheer doubt,
Moments of pain,
Just simply remember
Seasons will change.

 

by The Cowl Editor on October 15, 2020

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Poetry

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by Toni Rendon ’24

Today I’m numb
Out of touch with my emotions
Dreaming of only nightmares
And half-filled oceans

Today I got up
Walked around my dream
Looking for you but only found
The other half of me

Today we talked
He begged to be let in
So, I gave up fighting
And said, “Thank you,”
As he crept back in

Today I woke up
A wolf in sheep’s skin
Not feeling like me
And not all the way him

Today I’m complete
Finally, free.

 

by The Cowl Editor on October 2, 2020

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Poetry

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by Toni Rendon ’24

I don’t believe in religion
So, for Me there’s no heaven or hell
There’s only one higher power for Me
And its name is destiny
I can pinky promise
It has a plan for You and Me

The path We walked used to be so heavenly
But recently it’s only been leaving hellish memories
I still won’t let this be the end of We

So just wait patiently
As my breath comes back to Me
And I slowly pick up the pieces of We
And put them back carefully

I do my best to ignore our history
But it still gets to Me
And I begin to drift away ever so slightly

We begin to defy destiny
When We forget the parts that made You love Me
So, this time let’s try to call it early
Before “We” just becomes
You and Me

And We end up as another sad failed destiny
Forgotten in the tides of History