Poetry
Power in Silence
Elly Hume Silent are the trees as the wind whips through their leaves. Silent are their words. Our life continues as the world stops listening. They fall together. No one listens to the cry of their brethren, as nature rips apart. Silent are the trees, as the wind whips through their leaves. The sound of their tears. Gone is the tall oak, who led a life of many years, cut out from the chorus. They stand tall, stand strong, despite the graves of their own riddling the ground. Silent are the trees, the symphony of their sound drowned by our greed. Jamais Vu
Eleanor Bushway It's like waking up in a dream aware but totally lost unsure where to go what to do with this sudden knowledge I'm not waking up anytime soon I'm running from the coyotes behind me they won't give up on me or perhaps the body I've been dragging by my side I won't give it up to them I know that for sure they won't have me Where is the oasis I was promised? Full of fortune and happiness? You said life isn't about happiness just being content is fine but I don't think content isn't enough to outrun these coyotes that continue to persist after me Gasping for breath the trees around me are so familiar I don't recognize anything around me spinning round and round in circles everything is blurring together I can't even hold one thought together in my head I need someone to get me out of here They won't slow down there's no prize at the end if you rest it might as well slip right through your fingers Like sand down an hourglass my time is ticking no distance gained or lost there might as well be a string held taut measuring the distance left between unable to escape the fate the rests ahead The body is getting heavy my energy is seeping from my skin feeding the plants around me until they're vibrant with life They're catching up the string hanging loose on my wrist and an urge to give up presses down on my shoulders Suddenly I understand how Atlas felt holding up the sky but I'm not strong enough it's going to crush me Don't give up yet I hear a whisper from inside me arms wrapping around my waist in comfort stop looking ahead and look beside you I'm here The coyotes are not my fate but the path I forge ahead and the people running beside me This string is simply balance tugging back and forth at my mind I'm not ready to let it all go The trees begin to thin light bursting past the shadows of their trunks Fresh air rushes through my lungs enough to pull me out of the forest full of wild beasts and life draining plants I reach a cliff edge teetering over the precipice the string gets looser and my burden gets lighter I can hear the coyotes growl and snap their jagged teeth Not today I won't let them get you and I Closing my eyes deep breaths won't stop my heart from pounding This is how fate feels the wings of Icarus but weighed down so you can't help but fly closer to the sun It's time to let it all go and trust that this won't be the end I jump into my fate like embracing an old friend The mirror inside myself smiles she knows who I've been running from all this time and I know that it's time to stop trying to escape from a part of me that I need to learn to embrace The body, coyotes, and I become one as I leap into the air The sun molding my wings into a whole new being ethereal and lost in the heavens strings tangled together A utopia emerges before me and I don't spare even ounce of regret at the decision I made I don't plan on turning back- My eyes snap open and I can see everything and nothing The familiar veil of darkness drifts across my eyes My epiphany lost until the next dream So I fall asleep again |
Poems
3.14 Trees sway and snap under tears of wind- Silent through glass Hello spider On cracked ceiling- Are you lonely too? Immersed in black inked letters I know if I could melt into them- I would Hand against sky, light bends around fingers. I close my eyes. Would I feel the sun’s smile when in Earth’s embrace? Losses.
Lauralynn Weymouth Losses. They told us we must Try and keep our hands clean, Because it’s coming for us This Covid nineteen. We stayed in our houses, And locked up our doors, We waited for spring, And we hoped for much more. We emptied our classrooms, And skipped baseball season, Lacrosse and soccer, But all for good reason. We Zoomed with our families, And FaceTimed with friends, We hoped that this nightmare, Would soon see its end. We had groceries delivered, Getting food was a task. When we did go out, We needed gloves and a mask. We said goodbye to the sick, Locked in hospital places, Nurses held screens, So we could remember their faces. We prayed for the workers Who still had to go, For their health and their safety, Each one a hero. In April the call came, The school year was completed, We were missing our loved ones And feeling defeated. We lost weddings and showers, Funerals, graduations, We missed babies, and birthdays, So many celebrations. We cancelled field trips and parties, Camps and vacation. We all mourned the losses, As we shut down our nation. It impacts us all, Living both far and near, But we do it so that when it’s gone You’ll be here. In The Late Night
Emmalyn Steele The sun goes down, Their life begins, The stars align, it's all a sign, They run away together, In the late night, They found each other, In the late night, They love one another, In the late night, the boy of her dreams, The girl he’s been searching for, They get lost in each other, In the late night, Creating memories, Sharing adventures, They don’t know about the future, It’s never discussed, All they know is, Their life has begun, In the late night The stars have aligned, in the late night, They don’t need any more signs, It’s the late night. Plane Watcher
Bryan Corvelo I stopped at the local airport today. It was municipal, casual; no L.I.A. Yet I sat, as the clock dragged its hands, To watch the planes take off and land. No matter their style, one engine or two, They all had a narrative, their own point of view. And it seemed that the pilots were no longer there, Just wondrous tales had soared through the air. I pondered what it was that had called me to see; Could it be that the travelers flew ever and free? Or perhaps, was I inspired by something more, As they made the impossible not close to a chore? I stopped at the local airport today. I think I'll return when my blue skies fall grey. |
The Blossoms of Nothing
Elly Hume
In a field of wildflowers,
I sit and wait for the sun.
A life on the run, simply set in motion by the gun.
The blossom opens a seedling of hope,
yet I pause and wonder if I should instead wait for rope.
The rope that pulls me in, or in turn keeps me out.
I imagine the life beyond, the unknown.
I imagine the roles switched, our cruel queen overthrown.
She had stolen the world to put in her palms, the ruler of time.
The world then covered with despair in a blanket wrapped hundreds of souls thick.
A pop of color has returned, to a world once previously burned.
But what happens when order is restored?
Happiness is cut out with the poisoned sword known as regret.
A promise made, prosperity for more,
but the sulfur rain of things left unsaid continues to pour.
A flash, lighting in the storm,
the darkness left behind silhouettes a solid form.
A blank memory, an empty library.
A moment snatched from time.
Left all alone with the unfortunate dead,
though one is there wishing for the light instead.
Pain replaced blood, becomes the circulation flow,
amputated from the world, when the
pressure is too intense.
They feel nothing, know nothing.
The mind is a field, a complex playground of philosophy;
an individual’s own mental trap of innocence.
In sundresses and straw hats, they play,
around and around they go.
Laughing in oblivion,
while their shadows laugh at the other, failing to escape the grasp of
time.
Exhausted by the relentless game, they fall
into the welcoming quilt on the ground at their feet,
A youthful illusion of security.
In a field of wildflowers,
They sit and wait for the sun.
Elly Hume
In a field of wildflowers,
I sit and wait for the sun.
A life on the run, simply set in motion by the gun.
The blossom opens a seedling of hope,
yet I pause and wonder if I should instead wait for rope.
The rope that pulls me in, or in turn keeps me out.
I imagine the life beyond, the unknown.
I imagine the roles switched, our cruel queen overthrown.
She had stolen the world to put in her palms, the ruler of time.
The world then covered with despair in a blanket wrapped hundreds of souls thick.
A pop of color has returned, to a world once previously burned.
But what happens when order is restored?
Happiness is cut out with the poisoned sword known as regret.
A promise made, prosperity for more,
but the sulfur rain of things left unsaid continues to pour.
A flash, lighting in the storm,
the darkness left behind silhouettes a solid form.
A blank memory, an empty library.
A moment snatched from time.
Left all alone with the unfortunate dead,
though one is there wishing for the light instead.
Pain replaced blood, becomes the circulation flow,
amputated from the world, when the
pressure is too intense.
They feel nothing, know nothing.
The mind is a field, a complex playground of philosophy;
an individual’s own mental trap of innocence.
In sundresses and straw hats, they play,
around and around they go.
Laughing in oblivion,
while their shadows laugh at the other, failing to escape the grasp of
time.
Exhausted by the relentless game, they fall
into the welcoming quilt on the ground at their feet,
A youthful illusion of security.
In a field of wildflowers,
They sit and wait for the sun.
Prose
"Hunting with the Owl" by Ken Baer
I had been hearing him all summer and into the fall, but I never thought he would let me hunt with him.
I had been hearing him all summer and into the fall, but I never thought he would let me hunt with him.
Eh, Art by Gemma Gallagher
The scene starts with Di sitting on a blanket, staring up at the starless noontime sky.
The scene starts with Di sitting on a blanket, staring up at the starless noontime sky.
"The Journal" by Olivia Curtis
The street outside of 42 Melaby Road was positively flooded on the night of Jasper and Jasmine’s ninth birthday.
The street outside of 42 Melaby Road was positively flooded on the night of Jasper and Jasmine’s ninth birthday.
Untitled excerpt by Michaella Namiotka
I’m blinded. As I struggle to open my eyes, the bits of light finding their way in hurt me in an unusual way.
I’m blinded. As I struggle to open my eyes, the bits of light finding their way in hurt me in an unusual way.