The Jewel 2023

The Jewel

Table of Contents

Page 3- My Friends by Doran Abramson

Page 4- A Poem by Alex Crawford

Page 5 - A Quiet Village by Vitalina Danilova

Page 6 - The Oxymoron Museum by Giarc Ivel

Page 7 - What is Living In the First World? by Doran Abramson

Pages 8 & 9 - Self Portraits

Pages 10 & 11 - Poems by Ashley Kang

Page 12 - Clear Night Sky by Shamim Laki

Page 13 - A Poem by Ava Welgs

Page 14- Poems by Nuala Kling, Noah Bradley, and Doran Abramson

Page 15 - A Poem by Remi Mozder

Pages 16-19 - Liebe by Rowan O'Sullivan

Page 20 - Art

Page 21 - Credits

Page 22 - The Jewel 2023 Staff

Page 23 - Editors' Note

MY FRIENDS

Doren Abramson

I'm laughing

I'm crying

I'm listening

But with who?

My friends

The ones who bring me to light in the dark

The ones who bring me back to reality

The ones who let me know I don't have to be perfect

But they annoy me

Anger me

Get in my way

Yet, I love them anyway and will always see the light in the darkness

What do I owe them?

Everything

A Poem

Alex Crawford

So there I stood on that large slab of land

Holding nothing but a small seed in my hand

There was nothing for miles

But piles and piles

Of garbage garbage garbage

I looked all around

But there was nothing to be found

But garbage garbage garbage

The choice was clear

I had nothing but everything to fear

So I planted the seed

And I tended to its needs

And all there was to do was wait

So wait I did, date after date

Fears became tears

Tears became years

Of waiting for my small seed to sprout

Yet the truth was my doubt

The seed never grew

There was nothing I could do

This story doesn't end with "It's all up to you"

Because it's not and here that won't ever be true

Again and again we ignored the signs

Now it is time for us to pay the fines

Oh… that's not how you were hoping it would end?

Well I'm sorry but there's nothing I can do anymore my friend.

A Quiet Village

By Vitalina Danilova

A quiet, blackened village stood against the morning sky, swirling with white.

Between the charred houses shone quite some light. Murmurs of mourning rose into the sky

As soft as a dove's wing The voices would cry.

When people had no more hope, embers, in preservation

When, hearts broken, they stood, gazing at the devastation Which they say, once they had turned. Burnt buildings rising out of the ground

After crackle, the fire had burned

Around an altar the people then stood, Voices ringing kinder than any doctor's could Around an altar, they stood in their small town Flowers' petals falling to the ground

As they lay, crying softly, leaves wilted and brown

Together, their close bonds were formed. After, together, they mourned. They found comforts where there were none. They stayed together every day, 'Till at last the grief was gone.

THE OXYMORON MUSEUM

BY: GIARC IVEL

Wireless outlets are used daily untilZAP Out goes electricity

The recent past is pretty cool, But me? I'm more into old news

Check out the authentic models and some extinct life

Restored ruins, permanent loans, and virtual reality-Yikes!

Before the BING BANG BOOM blackout,

I rode down the escalator in search of the benefit of the doubt.

The power outage (after it began)

Helps me to more appreciate the Oxymoron Museum

WHAT IS LIVING IN THE FIRST WORLD?

By Doran Abramson

What is

Living in the first wor

Having a nice house

No, that can't be right

Going to a nice school

Almost, that could be

Going on vacations

Closer....

Life is like a sports game. You never know what you're going to get

But does it matter in the end? Not really.

All that matters is WHO you get. And what you choose to put your microscope on.

Going on vacations with your FAMILY?

That's it!

Going to school with your FRIENDS? Yes!

It's not about the stuff I am privileged with

It's about who I am privileged to share it with

Life isn't about what you have

It's about who you have

Self-Portrait by Audrey Tull

Self-Portrait by Noelle Streuber-Eden

South Korea

Korea is a rainbow. It tastes very flavorful. It sounds like joy, fun, and happiness. It smells like love, families, kisses, and hugs. It looks like a great country. It makes me feel in a dream full of the best things.

Poems by Ashley Kang Art by August Franzke

by Viola Wilent

Vietnam

I am Vietnam. I wonder if they like my noodles.

I hear laughing and giggling

I see the crystal blue ocean, sky, and tourists with colorful outfits on.

I am Vietnam.

I pretend I am perfect.

I feel happy when I see and hear joy.

I worry if people like me.

I cry when I hear fighting and war.

I am Vietnam.

I understand the world is not perfect. I say that any country can be paradise, especially me.

I dream that every country will be paradise.

I try to make it happen.

I hope my dream will come true. I am Vietnam.

Clear Night Sky

By Shamim Laki

Looking up at the luminous stars in the sky

Twinkling down towards me

I wonder what those stars and planets would look like up close

If I would be able to see those beautiful stars shining

And lighting up the dark void delightfully while looking very serene

Not knowing that if they got just a little too close to home to earth

They could melt, smelt, and flatten everything in a millisecond

The etheriality of the celestial has always put me in a daze

So impossible to break even by loud talks and shouts

But for now, without a telescope in hand

All I can do is stare up at those spectral white orbs lighting up the clear night sky

And for now

All I can do is break free of my gaze and start to melt my moonlike marshmallow alongside my family and actually start to enjoy something other

Every comment about my size

I think about how the mirror is my biggest enemy

Draining my energy

My thoughts are filled with jealous and envy

Every comment about my size

Making sure tears do not stream down my eyes

Although I just want to scream and cry

I can’t

Every comment about my size

I tell myself I can achieve the unachievable dream

The dream made of fabricated lies

It's all about your size, a gap between your thighs, and of course blue eyes

Attention is the prize

Every comment about my size

I skip another meal

Run and exercise till blisters cover my heels

Who cares how I feel

Every comment about my size

Scrolling on social media and just as quick

I do not like who I am

I feel sick

Every comment about my size

Poem by Ava Welgs

Art by Roman Aliakseyenka

and I am a burglar

Every comment about my size

I slowly realize

Beauty is not determined by your size

Every comment about my size

I tell myself

Beauty is not how you look

But how you took

Your chance at life

How you breathe and blink

How you think

Every comment about my size

I say

Beauty i about how you laugh out loud

Being proud

Being proud of yourself and everyone else

Beauty is living

Beauty is how you feel and breathe

Because your alive

Its determination and perseverance because you survive

Looking back seeing i was a fish

who took the bait

Trapped by societies profits of self hate

Every comment about my size

For What's Right?

By Nuala Kling

But what if I'm wrong?

Everyone thinks what they are doing is right.

But am I right?

I am trying to help people. Well, they are helping themselves, that's people too, right?

I'm being selfless and they are being selfish.

So am I right?

There may be no answer. Would that make them right? No.

Surely not. Right?

My Parents

By Doren Abramson

My parents

What do they mean to me?

They're the ones who comfort me

They're the ones who punish me

They're the ones who care for my health

They're the ones who stop me from my bad decisions

They're the ones who teach me right from wrong

In the end my parents do everything for me

I didn't realize until now

Thank you, Mom and Dad

Looking Down

ByNoahBradley

Looking down

I wonder if he's looking down

Smiling like the sun I'm watching

Looking at his son

Who he never saw grow past two

It feels like he's been gone forever

Looking down

Looking down

Looking down

Am I just looking nothing

Am I just

A Poem

By Remi Mozdzer

In a world of mayhem and fights, Where the battle never sends, The bravest warriors come together, To fend until the bitter battle ends.

Team Fortress 2, a game of skill, Where heroes clash in heated thrill, The Scout runs fast, the Heavy hits hard, The Engineer builds, the Demoman's a bard.

The Medic heals, the Sniper aims, The Spy sneaks by, the Pyro’s flames, Each class unique, each one a star, In this war that knows no bar.

The battlefield is where they roam, And victory is their only home, A game that tests their every move, A battle that will always groove.

So raise your weapons, and take a stand, For the fight is on, in this magical land, And in the end, it's not just a game, It's a journey of honor, glory and fame.

Liebe

By Rowen O'Sullivan

I reach up.

I see the faint silhouette of my partner. But he’s too far. The pressure is becoming too much. All the oxygen from my lungs is gone. My muscles are tired.

I see the creatures around me bursting with life. Even the rocks simmer with passion and a determination to live. Hold on. We’ve probably gotten a bit too far. You’re probably wondering how I got here. Let’s rewind a bit.

I dive into the vast blue with my partner, determined to find more about the bag of riddles that is the legendary “Liebe”.

It’s the predator of all predators. The king of kings. And I’m determined to find it.

And now...

Down...

Down... Down...

Down.. And down.

I look around at the school of bass. There are millions. The gray swarm swiftly goes by us like Michael Phillips swimming past his competitors.

I then saw my partner looking at the coral reef. The colors were all around us.

I could see pink, yellow, purple, orange and even red. The different shapes surrounded us with open arms, blending with the aqua blue around it.

But I digress.

We look over to the dark areas.

We’re searching for a truck-sized shark that looks like a hammerhead that got plastic surgery and got a heart instead. Then a sharp pain goes through my hand. It’s not much, But just enough.

Hey. Did you know sharks can smell blood from a long distance?

I found that out today.

The hard way.

All of a sudden, my swim partner rushes to the surface. He signals, Danger. What?

I just scraped my finger against a rock. A streak of gray flashes by me. Oh. That danger.

I see a large mouth opening wide as if the choo-choo train is coming.

I’m the choo-choo train.

I try to swim swiftly away like the school of bass we saw, but I can’t.

I remembered that if a shark attacks you, punch it in the nose. But it got a finger. The pain immediately seeps in, I want to scream, but it’s not working. I have to live. I’m young.

I never knew what I wanted. My mom ’ s a doctor, but I’m scared of blood. My dad’s a lawyer, but that’s boring. That’s what it's like being Asian. Expectations on you as if you're bench pressing a hippo.

I was told I’d be homeless by 21. I’m turning 21 tomorrow, and I might die before that. I was looking for my passion in the sea.

I think I just found it. After that realization, I used all my strength and used my other hand to punch it so hard it would make Mike Tyson shiver. It drove off the shark, but I’m sinking.

And yeah. That’s how I got here. As blood pours from my finger, I fight. One. Last. Time.

This deep, I can barely move from the pressure.

Key word: Barely. Which means I still can. I fight upwards, as the oxygen has all left my body. I fight as my muscles ache. I feel sick.

This fight will never end. A hand is there! Just one more kick... And I’m saved. I finally found it. My love For the sea.

My Liebe*

*Liebe means love.

Art Credits

Front Cover: Aleema Weissman

Page 3: Audrey Volkolos

Page 7: Elsa Evans

Page 12: Haley Shiff

Page 13: Roman Aliakseyenka

Page 15: Harrison Cobitz

Page 20: Luke Robinson, Alexis Shubert, Luisa

Medrano-Pizarro

Back Cover: Michael O'Connor

Simon Joeng

The Jewel 2023 Staff

Editors:

Adriana Figueroa Gonzalez

Johanna Laurino

Contributors:

Lily Baker

Genevieve Bhatia

Advisor:

Dr. Nichols

Bianca Slawter

Note from the Editors

This was the first school year ever at Black Rock Middle School. This was also the first ever edition of the literary arts magazine, The Jewel. We editors are very honored to present a (somewhat) edited collection of masterpieces from the talented artists and writers here at Black Rock Middle School.

We are grateful to Black Rock art and ELA teachers for encouraging their students to share their work. We also want to thank Principal Sarah Stout for her support.

About Us

We are students from a variety of grades.

We have a variety of interests and styles

We are people.

We are neither robots, nor aliens.