Greystock Magazine Vol. 2 No. 2

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“ New Year” by Jeremy Shields The path I tread is little less obscure Than on the day that, timid, I embarked, Yet forward I continue through the gloom.

The other I cannot as yet describe, For darker even than its neighbor be, And more mysterious, for rarely has it been traveled,

Wisdom pulls me toward the blackened course, Convicted by the light, yet afar off, But a Heart enslaved and wayward yearns for thorns,

A journey long and troubled, bright and brisk, With terrors and great wonders all alike, Enmeshed, grotesque, exquisite has it been.

Though in the distance shines a flickering lamppost, A promise that what dangers lie ahead Are somehow less to fear when bathed in light.

If only they’ll avail the fleeting pleasure. I curse this day, for I cannot choose both, Yet all the same I cast up mine eyes to pray,

What unmatched pleasure has each step afforded, Every embrace and succor as ravishing As pained, tragic, traumatic all the same.

The time has come now to embark one way And leave a bloody, gleeful path behind. Who is to say which bearing leads aright?

Save me, but not yet.

No secrets have I treasured in my heart, But only scorned with abject bitterness, For never in this wilderness was there more foul, Less worthy of a moment’s grin or scowl, Of laughter cruel or tears or even pity, A creature than the secret darkly held— Except perhaps untempered jealousy, Which fools the wise, enslaves the wayward heart And reroutes love divine to mortal folly. Through all these thorns and thistles, nonetheless, Have I found wicked pleasures and true joy, Enmeshed, grotesque, exquisite has it been, This unforeseen and dimly lighted trek. Yet nigh! I see that this walk meets its end, As it diverges one way and another. Upon one road is darkness, thorns and thistles, Pain, perhaps, and tragedy and bliss, As I have known them o’er this thoroughfare.

“Deathly Winter” by Mohammed Emun

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“Everything Will Freeze� by Saaif Ahmed

The cold wraps around the world Leaving nothing to stand From where we look at things Everything falls out of hand

Darkness comes quickly Consuming what light we had The days we have loved so Turned into fruit that went bad

As the days continue to shatter We hope and pray for it to end Everything will freeze Until the beauty thaws again

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“Silly Santa” by Mohammed Emun

“Freaky Frosty” by Mohammed Emun Page 3


The Rampant Blizzard by Zeeshan Zahid ’16 In the emptiness of the yard, I pondered, plenty and hard Of the circumstances that surrounded me with awe: The trees standing, the winds blowing, and the leaves toppling – Swirling, dropping, finding their own flaw. But I remained sitting with my teeth jittering As snow began falling from His claw. For many moments, I was frozen, merely broken, Glancing at the bleak view in despair—glancing as my skin turned pale: The winds whistling, the trees shaking, and the birds chirping – Crying, sighing, flying away from Gregale. But I was unmoving, for the darkness was encumbering, And the snow continued to fall from His Veil. In this chilling frost, all was lost, And the snow fell harder than ever before—touched me softer than ever before: The flakes piling, the clouds roaring, and the brightest lights fading – Dwindling, waning, leaving me alone on the floor. And my eyes were slowly submerged, simply buried under the snow that was stacking. Yes, I was alone on the floor. My thoughts slowly scattered, but this did not matter Because none of them could be found: The wind was still there, and so were the trees, And I was still by myself on the ground, But I could no longer feel the breeze, And I could no longer hear a sound.

“Cold as Ice” by Mohammed Emun

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This Wintry Season By Andrew Richards What could be more wonderful than this frozen season? Sure, 
 It’s ridiculously cold, and it’s true that 
 Nobody likes the sight of dirty slush or the sharp icicles, but you have to remember To be in the season of holiday festivities is a great blessing. 
 Even if it means months of wintry weather, it’s worth the fun and bonding that Rules this season. What could be so wonderful?

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“Noise” Jeremy Shields The music stops and starts and tapers off, Reaches peaks and soars to fevered heights, Until she suffocates aloft the clouds And plummets like a stone into the trough. The season of the summer long concluded, The season of the sparrow yet to come, The music flits and flutters hesitantly— On a migratory journey quite ill-suited To sensibilities so delicate To which this mild air must acclimatize— Battered by a bitter winter’s wind, Until the Muse’s melody exquisite Is rapidly corrupted, rendered Noise, screeching, careening off its course, Hurtling into the hateful pit, Into the grave she had herself engendered— Who chose to fly alone, no flock beside her, Who chose to fly above, no Muse to guide her— The snow thus robs the Wind beneath her wings, Her songs are turned to shrieks, no more she sings. If it be so that music can’t sustain; That vain purposeless noise should take her place, She may yet shut her eyes, yet close her lips— For there, within the silence, it remains. Page 6


Snow Days By Alejandro Zuleta Snow white resembled the surroundings, with many of the small, yet unbelievably cold, pieces falling towards the ground. One becomes two, and two becomes many, as they accumulate slowly, but surely. As time passes on, nature’s usual green and brown, orange and red, are overshadowed by the frighteningly white snow. Nothing will escape the blanket that will ensue and overtake the world. While snow may be gentle and free-falling, it can be relentless and harsh. And so, while the icy winter wind blew, many young Griffins scrambled for shelter against one of nature’s many calamities. Some had to brave the conditions in order to help their brethren, who stayed in the warmth and comfort of their cottages. No courage is never rewarded, however, as the snow relented somewhat, and the Griffins who stayed did not feel as overwhelmed as before. Hours of arduous shoveling allowed them the chance to recuperate, and maybe even enjoy themselves in the face of the large expanse of snow. Waist-deep and covered, the chill seemed as if it changed from an icy assault to a content mantle.

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