Category: 2023-2024 Submissions

Dim candles
In the night
Overpowered by the moon

Light falling
Gently shifting
To the night’s noon

All is calm now
Peace and quiet
As the moonglows bloom

Sunrise comes
Soon enough
But for now
The day sleeps too

5 ways of looking at grief
(after Wallace Stevens)
1,
The chains that collapse my chest
Fill me with the poison
Of fear,
And regret.

2,
The peace that clouds my mind
The sweet, blind bliss
Of denial.

3,
The tears that hold me,
Deep in the night
Running down my cold cheek
And stabbing me
In my tired heart.

4,
The past love
Still lingering
It runs deep in my veins
And keeps their memories near.

5,
The skeleton key
Twisting the fragile feelings
Gracefully woven together
In my weak heart.

The wind flows by whispering secrets of the forest where I now walk
Telling me stories and songs of people who once lived here
With a blink of an eye a gust of wind sends leaves flying
Slowly floating down like a dream
It feels like magic arms wrap around me welcoming me home
A piece of me that was missing for so long now
Completing the puzzle that is my heart
Here is where I truly feel at home here is where I belong

Then he awoke.
He was very apprehensive about it,
about you.
He didn’t know if you would even attempt
to ascend to the top,
But you did.
It was a very tiring ascent to the top floor
of the old bloody mansion
wondering
if it will be worth it?
You were close.
There were only,
Ten
More
Steps
On the blood splattered stairs
To get to the attic
Then out of nowhere
there he was,
he gave you a baleful look
as you reluctantly climbed
the rest of the way.
Step
By
Step
One second he was there
then he wasn’t.
Where did he go?
No one knows

when every day
is a loop of a nightmare
the flicker of sunlight
on the last leaf before winter
becomes a dream i dare to whisper

I’m thinking about
CARROTS
And how their crunchy NOM
I’m thinking about
Flowers
And how they smell sweet SNIFF.
I’m thinking about
Snow
And how its soft and fluffy STOMP
I’m thinking about
Turtles
And how cute they are AWW.
I’m thinking about
Dance
Because Sloane and I’s performance is 3 days
I’m not thinking about
Babies
And how demonic they are CRAWL.
I’m not thinking about
LEVI
Because why girl staring at me? 😭
I’m not thinking about
Wren
And how she replaced me 😞

The smooth ink
The firm grip
The click sound
The professional look
The agile movements

My math saviors
Making my work illegible
Too illegible to read,
So I get points anyway

Creators of iconic doodles
Millions of smiley faces
Millions of boxes

This ode is to pens
Man’s greatest creation

Someone calls for help, a hero stands tall,
Jorge Pastore, he answered the call.
A firefighter paramedic, brave and true,
To the sound of sirens, he rushed on through.
From Parkland to Marjory Stoneman Douglas High,

He faced the darkness, he heard the cry.
A guardian of the injured, heeding his call.
In the line of duty, he gave his all,
Then a new path he’s seen, an officer he became,

To serve and protect, to honor their names.
With courage and valor, he wore the badge no matter the day,
In the face of danger, he stood his ground,
A hero for some, forever a “dad” he will be renowned

His legacy shall live on, through the lives he touched
He shall be remembered as a hero, who has been admired so very much
With a sacrifice never forgotten, and a spirit always strong
In the hearts of many, you will forever belong

With an outpouring of tears, we must say farewell to a pioneer
“Rest easy, Officer Pastore, we’ll take it from here”

Blue

I remember when blue was my favorite color
How it filled my 7 year old heart with so much happiness
I remember looking up at the daytime sky and seeing its beautiful color

My favorite color is now green
It still gives me the similar feeling when I see it
But not the same

The reason for this is the first time for
everything is always better
The first bite
Your first steps
Your first word
Blue was my first favorite

There is a feeling
So deeply universal
Shared within the palms and temples of all girls
A feeling that rises in her chest
That makes each one of her shaven hairs
Stand at attention
A feeling that no single word
Has the capacity to describe
That pools of frustration well
In her still-puffy
Still-tired eyes
A familiar feeling
Or one that each girl will grow to familiarize herself with
When a man she expected more from
Hoped better of
Is in the end
Simply and truly
A man
Forever wanting
Forever unsatisfied