Tag: Taylor Rogers ’24
Succulents
by The Cowl Editor on September 16, 2021
Poetry
by Taylor Rogers ’24
Green ribbons greedily grow,
Spilling out of their small pots
Like humans, they reach for the stars,
Traveling higher and higher
Diligently, I water these tiny ribbons,
Watching keenly as they grow
They steal from the soil below them,
Clinging onto miniscule buds of water
As they grow, they begin to invade my space,
Creeping over my shoulder as I read
The ribbons become darker,
Matching the color of the vivid forest outside
With my succulents, I grow,
Aiming for the glittery sky
The two of us grow together,
Continuously hoping that one day, we will fly
Daily
by Elizabeth McGinn on May 6, 2021
Poetry
by Taylor Rogers ’24
Exhaustion.
This is the only emotion I can feel.
Day after day,
I tiredly watch the news,
Where the same tragic story plays on loop.
Each day,
Another bullet tears through innocent flesh,
Causing red to tragically paint the streets,
Breaking the hearts of many,
This tiny bullet wreaks its havoc,
Destroying any hope for change.
Daily,
Innocent victims fall,
Unwillingly becoming yet another name on a never-ending list.
A family loses their anchor,
And is forced to move on with their lives, despite being lost at sea.
Every day,
I watch the news in fear,
Wondering if me and my family will be next.
Will our world be invaded by the color red?
Will we fall victim to performative activism and a lifetime of injustice?
Will we be reduced to a statistic?
Continuously,
Nothing around me changes.
More and more people fall,
Becoming yet another news special
Gaining fame in a way they would never wish to.
Routinely,
I ask myself, will this ever end?
Will we ever reach a true state of equality?
Or will I have to tiredly watch more people’s lives end for no reason at all,
And sigh in defeat as yet again,
My people fail to be treated equally in the “land of the free.”
Nature Has No Curfew
by Elizabeth McGinn on April 15, 2021
Poetry
by Taylor Rogers ’24
Shadows and I become one as the night falls,
The sunset smiling down at me, waving one last goodbye.
Spring’s simplistic desires draw me in,
And I choose to abandon my curfew, deciding to just live.
As we dance, the stars begin to appear,
Wishing to join our game of hide and seek.
Twilight taunts our once innocent thoughts,
Urging us to leave the world behind, and get lost.
The stars dance with me as you sing,
Your heavenly voice calming the creatures of the night.
Bright beams of light illuminate our hearts,
And finally, I lose my fear of the dark.
A full moon guides us back to your car,
And the woods part to form a long, rocky path.
Dark’s desire rises from the shadows,
My eyes find yours, and the wind around us blows.
Black gives us the illusion of stealth,
Yet I find myself not caring if the two of us get caught.
Soft, soulful music invades our space of silence,
And we let ourselves partake in some violence.
A few clouds lead us back to my place,
And I look at my house in dread, not wishing to go.
For the last time tonight, you give me a kiss,
And nature says goodbye to me, your taste forever on my lips.
Pot of Gold
by Elizabeth McGinn on March 18, 2021
Poetry
by Taylor Rogers ’24
Where is my pot of gold?
I walk around the world, hearing the grand stories told,
Stories of new, and stories of old,
All revolving around this mystical pot of gold.
My relatives tell me about their personal treasures,
Bragging to me about these in extreme measures.
When will it be my turn to find this pleasure?
I wonder, how do these people find these treasures?
One day, I stumble along what I think will be a blessing,
And I thank the spirits for my pain lessening.
Finally, I have a pot that might not be depressing.
I open the mystery item, praying for a blessing.
Sadly, my pot of gold has nothing inside,
Reflecting my heart, which has too long been denied.
I have looked everywhere, both in and outside,
Yet this pot is empty, just like my cold insides.
How will I fill this mystery object from above?
Will I fill it with lust, or will I fill it with love?
Now, I can find something that fits in my pot like a glove,
And fulfill the wishes of the creatures above.
Happily, I begin my newest ride,
Ready to find what makes my pot of gold big and wide.
One day, this object will be filled with pride,
And I will have completed my ride.
Following Mother’s Path
by Elizabeth McGinn on March 4, 2021
Portfolio
by Taylor Rogers ’24
Wind playfully sways my fragile body, jokingly pushing me towards an unseeable path.
I refuse to acknowledge this pull, but I find myself unable to turn around.
Here is the place I feel the most serene, the most calm, since I know my demons can crawl into my bed at night.
But, they cannot climb up mountains.
Here, mother nature embraces me, her servants diligently marking my fated trail.
She provides me food, the small berries my sole fuel for conquering this peak.
The birds sing around me, their soothing voices reminding me that if I fall, they will alert mother.
I am a child, exploring her uncharted territory, and she wishes for me to do this safely.
Below my feet, the rocks shift, deciding to make my path slightly easier to trek, and I thank them as the terrain changes faster than I can blink.
Rushing water lazily falls to the left of me, the calming noise reassuring me that waking up at an ungodly hour was worth it.
No map guides me, as mother assures me that this is the right path, small leaves acting as her eccentric form of bread crumbs.
A nervous sun sneaks a brief peek at me before disappearing, afraid to ruin the surprise waiting for me at the summit.
Smiling, I decide to increase my pace, not wanting to keep mother waiting.
The animals around me cheer, as the trees step aside, letting me conquer this next challenge.
My tired body begins to ache, but I ignore this pain, as I know mother won’t appreciate me stopping during my hike.
“They’re here! Finally!”
A voice excitedly yells, motivating me to climb the last hill of this uncharted territory.
My two feet find a plateau and I look up, seeing the sun hand-in-hand with the hyperactive clouds.
“Welcome home, my sweet child.”
Mother calls out to me, reaching a calloused hand out to me.
With a smile on my face, I take her hand and leap from the mountain, joining my family in their state of bliss.
When Least Expected
by Elizabeth McGinn on February 11, 2021
Portfolio
by Taylor Rogers ’24
Cupid’s thin, heart-tipped arrow strikes my skin at approximately 10:00 a.m., attacking me while I was suffering through yet another pointless Zoom call. The sneaky little bastard hit me when I was most vulnerable, as he knew I could not defeat him in my lethargic state. Lazily, my blood falls from the wound on my forearm, staining the precious notes and drawings scattered in my notebook. Thankfully, my fellow classmates and professor are unable to see my distress, nor hear my animalistic cries as I pull the stubborn god’s arrow out of my flesh. Once the arrow is laid on my desk, I find myself drawn to the object, its white coloration one that reassures me that yes, Cupid was the one who shot me, not my roommate who’s been reading The Hunger Games a little too much lately. This sacred arrow has an intricate scrawl lazily written along its base, the Latin impossible for me to understand. Thankfully, Google Translate exists, and I type the words into the search engine, eyes widening at the words’ meaning. “Love will come when unexpected?” I ask myself, too stubborn to attempt to comprehend this confusing meaning.
The words from the “divine” creature stick in my mind all day, causing me to ponder whether my potential soulmate is currently watching me while I walk around my campus, the snow below my feet making this task difficult to accomplish. His words plague my inner thoughts as I do my laundry, and I can’t help but glance around the empty laundry room, hoping my lover is here at the same time I am. I peek around every corner whenever I walk, hoping to see a pair of eyes that will make butterflies burst from my stomach or a smile that forces gibberish to fall from my chapped lips. As I diligently stare at the words on the paper, I can’t help but glance up from my notes, wondering if my soulmate opted to study in the nearly desolate library as well.
“What’d you do to your arm?” my roommate inquires as I enter our shared space, their indie music blasting from the tiny blue speaker neither of us could fathom living without.
“Got shot by Cupid’s arrow,” I bluntly respond, my words causing them to laugh. I take a seat in my precious blue bean bag, then gesture for my roommate to talk, since they most definitely have something to say about my “joke.”
“What are you, stuck in your Roman mythology phase again? That stuff doesn’t happen in real life,” the stubborn human elects to respond, and I decide not to press him on the whole “soulmate” concept that’s been playing tennis with the other thoughts invading my mind all day.
“Neither do zombie apocalypses, yet that doesn’t stop you from keeping an apocalypse survival kit stashed under your bed,” I point out, causing them to go silent. They select a new song to listen to. Eerily calm music streams through our plant-filled habitation while we begin slowly reviewing homework for the Zoom classes (for which we happen to pay $60,000). Silence fills the room, then my easily distracted roommate points to something on my desk. “Someone left that for you, by the way.” Curious, I rise from the beanbag, and walk over to the desk, immediately grabbing the small note. The complex calligraphy on this scroll is instantly recognizable, and I grin at the words written. Is this what Cupid meant by unexpected? “I’m gonna go talk to the person who left this for me, I’ll be back,” I assure my roommate, who seems to be too focused on the newest episode of The Walking Dead to pay attention to me. In seconds, I have made it to the elevator, ready to meet the person I’m destined to love forever.
“Shoot, maybe I just got Rick-rolled,” I realize as the song “Never Gonna Give You Up” blasts from somebody’s dorm room above me. Despite what the note claimed, not a single person is under the biggest oak tree on campus, nor are there any hints of a person in a giant, red hoodie. “I knew this was too good to be true. I guess I was expecting the person to actually show up, which went against what my arrow said anyways,” I say aloud, not caring if anybody spots me talking to myself. As I stand outside, Mother Nature playfully opens the clouds above me, small droplets of snow beginning to litter the ground around me. Cursing, I decide that today isn’t the day I want to get hypothermia, and I begin the brief walk back to my dorm. Each step feels wrong, as if Cupid’s bow is using me as an arrow, slowly drawing me back to the tree where nobody awaits me. However, I resist the tree’s strange pull, my efforts to get away causing me to bump into somebody.
I expect the heavens to halt, for the snow to suddenly stop falling, but nothing happens. Why did I think the person I collided into was going to be my soulmate? “Sorry,” I curtly say to the person, making eye contact with them briefly. Nothing happens, and I quickly look away from the person, who nods before continuing on their journey. I do the same, still wondering when Cupid’s going to magically work his magic and show me who I’m meant to be with for the rest of my life. The snow around me continues to fall, seeping into my blue, oversized hoodie that adorns my small frame. Yet, for the first time in a while, the cold air doesn’t wrap around me like a blanket. Instead, the snow seems to warm my cool figure, and I glance up at the calm, gray sky above me. As if giving me a thumbs-up of approval, the clouds stop sending snow at me for a second, then continues its merciless storm yet again.
Instead of returning to my dorm, I decide to wander around my campus, the divine above granting me warmth as I rediscover the school I fell in love with the first time I toured it. Snow artfully falls onto the buildings, dancing to its own music as I begin to do a dance of my own, skipping on the sidewalk and admiring the “gloomy” day nature has presented to me. The blue fades to black as my day goes away, and the rainbow of LED lights streaming from dorm windows begins to light my way down the twist and turns of the sidewalk, making me wonder if my soulmate truly is a person. With a smile on my face, I decide to slowly head back to my dorm, not wanting to leave the comforting embrace of the world around me. Snow joins me on the walk down the path, and I know this won’t be the last time I fall in love with Earth’s wonderful gifts. I find myself cured of the soulmate dilemma that threatened to destroy me earlier.
Lost at Sea
by The Cowl Editor on November 12, 2020
Poetry
by Taylor Rogers ’24
Her ocean of tears is quickly overflooded,
Anxiety, Depression, and Anger blending in with the fish.
Big blue waves crash and fall,
And as she is stranded on her tiny island, she makes one wish.
A ship pillages her terrifying ocean,
Taking anchor in the center of her heart.
A pirate steps out of the boat,
His sword safely hidden as he watches the ocean’s waves tear the girl apart.
Once he enters the heart, the pirate begins to strike,
Brandishing his sword and cutting down the stubborn seaweed.
The girl’s fears begin to wither away,
Saving the heart from the terrifying depths of the sea.
The last weed distengrates,
Allowing the pirate to return to his ship, the girl in his arms.
Slowly, the ocean of tears finally stops flooding,
And the girl wipes away the stray fish, finally safe from harm.
Fall in Friartown
by The Cowl Editor on October 15, 2020
Poetry
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.