Panorama 2024

Writers

Ella Mahaney

Cassidy Mixon

Mandy Endres

Mia Leach

Gabriella Carreira

Nora Ahrens

Brigitte Comlish

Morgan Hawkins

Kate Sims

Maria Deirisarri

Morgan Nott

Caitlyn Ymbras

Riley Jackson

Artists

Adriana Umana

Molly Collins

Sasha McGrath

Skye Constantino

Henry Ballinger

Clara Boettinger

Noelle Chatigny

Ava Huebner

Chloe Yang

Bella Dalheim

Kai Elliot

Ashlyn Lester

Jackie Suto

Nina Bowen

Santiago Campos

Sam Galbraith

Katherine O’leary

Payton Skinner

Howie Mandell

Madalynn Henning

Zoey Mueller

Palmer Hope

Shelby Gamis

Jayden Lewis (Alumni)

Gia Navarra

Jessica Bivens

Andrew Schmitt

Molly Collins

Sasha McGrath

Turtle in the Moon

I am Ella the unnoticeable, a hidden shadow slinking through the hallways. I am gone in an instant, like a figure you see in the corner of your eye while walking along a dusk road.

My sulking eyes are unfocused, like those of a night wanderer, as my mind is flying though other worlds, thinking of anywhere else besides here. When the moon cloaks the land in darkness, most can’t help but fall asleep. But a few lie awake in fear of what dark creatures might lurk about. My drooping crescent of bangs casts a shadow over my face and I retreat into it like a cowardly turtle. I curl inwards in my moody shell of shame, hiding my bright face. That face is the face of Ella the loud, a humorous and happy star.

Despite being the opposite of what the world rejected before,

I am still not good enough. When I come out of my shell and display my sparkling bright eyes, I am met with annoyance and disapproval. Sharing my interests earns me strange looks. Whatever group chat I post in, the response is silence. This leads me to wonder if everyone has blocked me. I wouldn’t blame them. I must be annoying. The Sun is bright, sweltering, and hard to look at. Being happy and bright can be awkward and inconvenient, so I tuck myself in my moonshaped carapace once again, where I am safe.

I am Ella, a girl of two sides, but scorned either way. The Sun is blazing and irritating, but a turtle in its shell is boring, cowardly, and barely a step up from a rock. I am Ella, and despite constantly changing, from turtle to sun, and from sun back to turtle, the attitude with which I am viewed remains stagnant.

Ella Mahaney

word explosion

the fear of my own voice became so overwhelming that eventually the words burst out of me pen to notebook, i scrawled my soul onto the pages, blackening them with ink like the sky turning from a pristine, sorbet-colored sunset to dusk.

Cassidy Mixon

Ebbing, flowing, rinsing, Moving, soothing, shushing, Soft blue ribbon

End is dangerously near Down, Down, Down, Over the rocks Rushing, crashing, falling, Screaming sound surrounding

Foaming at the bottom, collecting in a crystal pool below, ebbing, flowing, rinsing with a steady beat of a heart, as if it never fell. Be more like water, who moves on after its tremendous fall to continue its path and follow its call.

“The man has now become like one of us, knowing good and evil.

TreeofLife

He must not be allowed to reach out his hand and take also from the tree of life and eat, and live forever.” (Genesis 3:22)

Lily’s Shadow

A flower

Bright pink petals

Proud of her complexion

And of her power

Then he came along

Tore her from her roots

Her withered petals

Brought out her eyes

Made her look smaller

My ugly hue

Oh how I changed for you -gray

Cassidy Mixon

The painting, once so clear, Now a disoriented figure my eyes fail

Perhaps, for this next piece, I will use a different material to co Acrylic or gouache shall do

Something more permanent

I will not allow this picture to escape f

No, this time I shall savor each streak an

Until the canvas is full

And it is time to begin again

Mia Leach

Bella Dalheim

Kai Elliot

Ashlyn Lester

Chloe Yang

Divine Sirens

The night is ghastly still, all except for my heart. Ah, divine silence.

Shadows splash across the stretch of my skin and the silky light of the moon, and lashes of cold wind give me human form so I obey the sirens’ scream. Suddenly a stir, and a voice, the beginnings of a song, the beat of the trees, go one two, three four. two two, three four!

The forest can understand meter and rhythm, they give me human form so I obey the sirens’ scream.

It is a roar, a howl, its the rat-tat of the drums

Droning bugs, tanpuras, crickets in the trees

It’s a screech, a typhoon, and it’s all caught in my lungs In my arms, in my hair, in the cracking of the leaves

The night is ghastly still, all except for my heart!

So I run, and run, while the reeds tear at my knees

I gasp, for air, when my muscles beg, oh please!

But I can’t, the stars flash secrets in morse code about souls and divinity, I can’t feel the cold, oh give me human form so I obey the sirens’ scream.

I lick dry the chalice of existence, sorrow and blissful pain

Joy and laughter, too animalistic and vain, so I stop with a crash, for a gulp of air. I notice, the sky is so big.

It is no wonder why Egypt bowed to her. The night is ghastly still, all except for my heart.

Gabriella Carreira

Sasha Mcgrath

Jackie Suto

a poet’s alchemy is the tight embrace of a last goodbye the sun caressing your fair skin the aching burn in your palms as you carry the snow the sandpaper kiss of your cat the unexpected bite that follows the finger flip from one page to the next the tension of your backs pressed together as you compare who’s taller today the stabbing of your heart as you walk past each other like strangers the warmth as your hand perfectly folds into theirs underneath the hands of a poet they make touch written word they make memories permanent they make pain beautiful nothing ever ends poetically it ends. and they turn it into poetry. this phenomena is known as

Death of a King

This Man was perfect, free from sin

He rejected the devil time and time again

He surrendered Himself completely to His Father’s plan

Yet at the end of the day, He was betrayed by one of His own clan

With a kiss He was betrayed

And through this darkness, He still prayed Spit at on the street and scourged at the pillar, He remained silent when being threatened by His killer

He was obedient even unto death, And commenced His Spirit into His Father’s hands as He breathed His last breath

He carried the cross that they nailed Him onto And gave up all He had just for me and you

When they took Him off the cross and put Him in His tomb, Three days later the stone was rolled away and empty was that room.

He appeared to Mary Magdalene after He had rose from the dead

And showed His Apostles His hands that had once bled

On that Sunday morning He won the biggest war, He had defeated death, it held no one captive anymore

He gave up His kingly power to die in our place

And His forgiveness isn’t exclusive but for every race

At last, our sins are now washed away

The debt we once owed has now been paid, Repent of your sins for you are forgiven

Turn to Jesus because it’s time to start livin’

Nora Ahrens

Nina Bowen

Santiago Campos

Sam Galbraith

Freedom is like a Brush

Freedom is like a brush

Life a painting

No one can rush

Not one other person

Would choose the same as you

Everything you could possibly create is undoubtedly new

Freedom is like a brush

Every decision is a stroke

Each picture is a memory of how an artist spoke

What you do with your canvas

Could make or break your plight

Pick out each shade carefully

Choose your colors just right

Because a long time from now

Your work could be in a show

What decisions you made in life

Everyone could know

You can't erase paint

You can't turn back time

But always remember

Painting over isn’t a crime

Just dip your brush in water

And paint a new scene

So before you know it

Your canvas will be clean

Freedom is like a brush

With it paint what you want

But the little dark shadows in the scene

May always be what haunts

Brigitte Comlish

Howie Mandell

Poetry Sunday at the Coffee Shop

Nothing is more uplifting than the smell of freshly brewed coffee

And the delicate clinking of dishes

As the patrons put down their cups in almost synchronous union

Allowing space in their minds

To take in the atmosphere

poets, vocalists, jazz artists, writers

Anyone willing to wear their heart on their sleeve can take the stage

A ten by six elevated platform

But it might as well be the top of the world

Nothing is more rewarding than witnessing the audience enthralled with their mouths agape

Soft applause and captivated expressions from each Eyes sparkling with inspiration

Nothing makes the heart more full than sharing art with friends

Who used to be strangers

Morgan Hawkins

pantone 365

once the waves were so high they could run their fingers through the clouds the grass so tall it could paint knobby knees kelly green or bloody burgundy the people so kind they would lie to my heart that its dreams were doable my house was hastily painted pantone 365, a shade that made neighbors frown but i lovingly would run my dirt encrusted nails on its cracking walls and listen carefully to the echoes of laughter held like an oath in its corners promising myself that childlike joy would too flow out of my pantone 365 house

once the chemtrails were so pink they were like fresh scars across maiden sky the trees so orange that the sky mistook them for fire and drowned them yes, the world remained beautiful but time decreed that my heart could not my people’s kindness was gone, in its place cold honesty, apologetic smiles they revealed their lies and i learned that Langston Hughes was wrong a dream deferred does not fester like a sore but sear like a knife in gasping lungs tears ran sideways across my face as i watched fire engulf the pantone 365 house

once the silence was so steady that it finished my fears and i rose at dawn a symphony of birds played their instruments in arms of giant oaks i understood kindness took courage and that scars sang of victors pantone 365 returned the walls and the world smelled clean and ready the walls would remember how to echo the harmonies of violins and laughter and i would run my fingers once more across the faces of my past and present promising them all the love that could ever be stored in the pantone 365 house

Gabiella Carreira

Madalynn Hennig

Zoey Mueller

I’m Okay

I love you, I do, and I know you love me too, but I can’t do this anymore. Sure I was the one who wanted this first but now I’m begging for it to end. I feel guilty about this, but we are at a dead-end Maybe in another life, our stars will realign, and we will make it to the end. But for now, I’m okay with our hearts being broken and our paths making a bend. I’m okay with us never talking never talking again and with our relationship coming to an end. I’m okay with us not being close anymore. It’s okay, Since we ’ re going back to the way it was before. Before the laughs, before the late nights, before falling in love, and before I fell out. I’ll be okay, I’ll be okay, okay without you

Caitlyn Ymbras

Perception

the mirror showing the colors of yourself you quite like the way your hue shines so nicely on your fair skin then you walk out the door people look at you as if you ’ re a monster your shades and tones twisting and turning within their eyes you try to erase your tint take the paintbrush and make yourself better oh to live in a world where people are not colorblind to your own true colors

Cassidy Mixon

Palmer

Hope

All Aboard Love’s Ship

A gossamer cloth wraps around a heart

Absorbing its beats, listening to it start

Then a subtle crimson bleeds through

And tastes our essence, judging if we are true

As night digests the sun, it sinks what keeps us sane

And we take Titanic’s hand, knowing the end will wield pain

We measure anger, until it boils

We measure sadness, until it toils

But love is birthed upon alr’dy ruptured seas

Cresting on Everest’s high mountain freeze

One might ask, “Is it worth it?” another might say, “What else is?”

Is it worth a lifetime of pain for fleeting moments of bliss?

In this game, we ask, “could there be another way?”

Yet we know, we will never win if we do not even play

At the end, we might see that the Earth holds no magic

But love is what keeps it a little less tragic

Maybe love is not real, just a follicle of fiction

But we pretend to be saved by its eloquent conviction “All aboard the unsinkable!” we say

And somehow we fall for it every draping day

It is derived from Cupid’s tongue

And it is said, “Love is love no matter how young ”

But in youth, one never knows how much love hurts

That in its most crippling moments, it simply deserts

This truth, this lack of lifeboats, is the only shame

Because love is poured into our heart, before our brain

Yet there is that one moment afloat, where pain slips into the sea

Where cloth softens, ice melts, and lifeboats are empty

Kate Sims

Chloe Yang

The medals, the trophies, the thrill, the “love” our focus on Earth when it should be ABOVE.

Social media, the constant influence, adulterating our minds, our thoughts once full of grace and truth, now are left behind

In this world our worth is determined by the money we make, real joy isn’t sought and the Instagram smiles are fake.

There is a spark of hope that was buried in a grave, but have no fear for the stone has been rolled away.

Fully God and fully man, He died on the cross, and for three whole days the women and disciples wept at His loss.

But on that Easter morning, many years ago, He rose up from the grave, and straight into Heaven He rose. Our sins are washed away, no longer on our soul, the consequences do remain but now we are made whole.

He is the way, the truth, and the life, He offers grace, not just once or twice, but forever and always because on the cross He paid our price.

Nora Ahrens

My Biggest Regret

As I look around the room

I feel your energy loom

And I remember us

Before all the fuss

When it was just us two And our relationship always grew Every second of every day I thought it would continue till our hair turned gray

Until one day everything changed And we were suddenly two people estranged It was as if nothing between us had ever occurred Like we had never exchanged even a word

So when I am asked my biggest regret

I think about us but yet I cherish the time we had

Before it all went bad

And as I look around the room

I feel your energy loom

And I remember us Before all the fuss

Megan Nott

A Hopeless Romantic

She sang as Earth summoned a looming ashy moon Where it reigned upon vapid clouds of gloom

Night settled into each star’s untouched breast As the world opened like arms, coiling into a sepulchral nest

She sang in dismay to the one whom she loved most

As a starry glow rippled across the sky’s sleek coast

She wondered if her heart’s fight would cease And along with it, her mind ease

Winding down her lover’s toll, she wove a loom

One of which that stroked her heart and crept in her womb

A lover’s hand condemned her heart to chains

A kiss, a touch, a memory–was all that remains Sprawled onto Earth’s barren ground

She sunk in sodden dirt, hoping that in her casket, would she be found

Found by her lover, who was wrong for her–that she knew But as she sank deeper, it was only for him, her love was true

Her heart held for ransom, tortured by her mind stripped nude

One could only realize after death, that love would be easier to elude

It is a retold story spilled over, a warning forlorn

Menial shreds of moments, discarded in a crater of scorn

Although it may be so, that love ripped her sail at fatal seas

She could not help, but smile at its spiteful game of tease

It spoiled her bad fortune, masked it with glee, A mind, as hopeless as hers, would love as if promised eternity

Because loving a person, does not mean ingesting them whole, It is loving them just enough to take away their power of killing your soul

Hopelessly loving–more beautiful than not Is truly what each soul has ever sought

Take me to my tomb

Take me to my tomb

The cold chilling moonshine was held in her tears, Each one sparking like a match, coveting the sky in mirrors,

One could never tell if she was ever found Found by her lover, who had her heart tightly bound

Her eyes fell closed, but she knew, living without love would be far worse

She sung “Take me to my tomb”, and with that she fell… through the cracks of her curse

The moon slipped away in pillars of ash Light bled onto the sky, leaking from night’s hidden stash

A lonely flame wavered in the sky

Waiting and waiting… for another hopeless cry

Kate Sims

Shelby Gamis

Jayden Lewis

Dreams vs. Reality

An astronaut, a fairy princess, a monster truck, or a millionaire, are all answers to the seemingly simple question asked throughout kindergarten classrooms; “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Unlike my classmates whose answers were often filled with fantasy, I answered this question without a doubt in my mind saying; “I am going to be a professional soccer player.” Now, I have the capability of looking back and smiling at all those who never took me seriously.

I was told from a young age that games are meant to be fun. That no matter the result, win or lose, everyone should have an enjoyable experience. I find myself incapable of thinking this way when my mentality has simply always been, “it is not over until I win.”.

My desk is full of picture frames. The frame most illuminated by the lamp displays a photograph of a man who won. His arms outstretched reaching for his partner in crime and star player, the only person who loves winning as much as he does, his own daughter. The state championship ring, a tangible item from one of the most memorable days of my life, lies in the drawer below the photograph.

Eyes that peruse the opposite side of my desk will discover another image. A snapshot of a girl whose goal is to make her grandfather proud as he watches her from heaven. The toothy grin that consumes her face, the medal around her neck, and the baseball cap that reads “National Champion,” all convey that her goal was achieved.

Despite my competitive heart attempting to deny the facts, I learned that in order to truly win, I would sometimes have to lose. The photos on my desk show microscopic segments of journeys to success that are also riddled with challenges and failures The smiles displayed in the images hide the grimaces that my face possessed during countless sprints, the exasperated screams from not being able to score a routine shot despite hours of training, and the tears caused by frustration.

My club coach, my wisest mentor, ingrained in my brain what it means to be a competitor; to not just compete with others but to constantly be in competition with myself. To be able to handle trials, criticism, and defeat. To accept that my journey will be far from linear. And that championships and medals are simply what people see, not who I am. Because who I truly am is simply a little girl, who had a dream, and has done everything in her power, no matter how difficult, to make it a reality.

Riley Jackson

Way Back When

Nothing alters the chemistry of my mind quite like the repetitive melody of that one song, Oblivious was that small pigtailed girl about the concept of time, Scenes of joy bursting with color, a drug compared to today’s gray happiness, Twinkling eyes as bright as the stars, Auburn hair flowing in the wind as her feet rapidly peddled, The tires revolved faster, but her control was swift, Luck meant winning extra tickets at the arcade, Or discovering that four leaf clovers really do exist, Grammie’s house and the smell of Bisquick pancakes on a Sunday morning, The clock chiming ten, I wish I could go back, Acceptance is only the first stage in growing up.

Riley Jackson

Gia Navarra

Senior Year

Here we are, the beginning of the end

Each moment from the past is beginning to blend

The year of understanding, tradition, and reconcile

Where the blur of motion, refines to one shared denial

A denial that the end is looming behind the field’s lights

Where the quarterback’s run, made our hearts climb to great heights

Where the glow from the stage will slowly fade

While we take our final bow as the curtains cascade

So many memories, we wish could recycle and repeat With the dissembled notion, that it’s all so bittersweet

The last game, the last class, the last dance All unraveling before us, as we live out this last chance

Groomed into students, tailored into athletes But further beneath, the greatest endeavor was our seats

Sitting next to a stranger, who later became a friend One that we were attached to until the very end

As we are all perched on the brink of the unknown Some may stay close, while others will roam

One day, our years of high school will just be old stories from “back then” And we will remember each other and every moment within

Although the flow of drama always caressed our lives

There is one thing we can agree on, in perfect concise

The simple word that makes this dark age of change brighten

Is that now and forever, we will always be a Titan Love, The Class of 2024

Kate Sims

STAFF PAGE

Lead Editor/Designer: Skye Constantino

Readers:

Nora Ahrens

Molly Collins

Editors/Designers:

Cassidy Mixon

Emily Grace Hall

Moderators: Mrs. Mueller

Mr. Jackson