Imagination Collaboration 2022 - 2023

Imagination Collaboration

GWYNEDD MERCY ACADEMY HIGH SCHOOL 2022-2023

Cover: Kristen Yezzi ’23

Inside Cover: Megan Halstead ’24

The title of Imagination Collaboration sprang from the creative mind of Lisa Bonavita ’98 during a contest to name our newest publication.

Editors’ Notes

For the past twenty-five years, the Imagination Collaboration has been an outlet for Gwynedd students to submit their own pieces and express themselves creatively. I have always found comfort in writing. It continues to be a kind of safe space for me as I turn to writing whenever I need to escape for a little while. When I began working on Imagination Collaboration my freshman year, I knew that it was exactly that: a space for other creative individuals to express themselves. I am beyond thankful that I have been able to watch this beautiful magazine grow over the years. It makes me smile to see that so many others especially this year with us receiving over ninety-five submissions find joy in expressing themselves through the poetic art of writing. While I am sad that this will be my last time working on the Literary Magazine and with these incredibly talented people, I know that it will only continue to succeed and grow in the coming years, spreading the heartwarming themes of Mercy all the while.

Kiley McMahon ’23

Writing has always served as a creative outlet for me. Whether I feel passionately about a subject, event, or idea, I love putting my thoughts into a piece that I can be proud of. Working on the Literary Magazine has allowed me to receive a bit of creativity from each student and craft a resource displaying the imagination of the Gwynedd body as a whole. Each work in this magazine represents the innovative thought of an individual student their thoughts, beliefs, and unique experiences. I hope that you, like me, take the time to appreciate each of these works and the creative brains behind them. I am so grateful for Imagination Collaboration and the amazing group of individuals who made this publication possible, including faculty, staff, and the students who expressed their creativity and allowed their works to be on display.

Melanie McDougal ’24

Minds Behind the Imagination Collaboration

Kiley McMahon ’23 Co-editor-in-chief

Melanie McDougal ‘24 Co-editor-in-chief

Associate Editors

Eleanor Jones ’23

Olivia Carlo ’24

Jessica Crocker ’24

Allison Macartney ’24

Zoe Mackey ’24

Lucy Ke ’25

Abigail Matos ’25

Mrs. Anne Monsalve Faculty Moderator and Editor

Mrs. Caitlin Fasano Haug ‘09 Faculty Moderator and Designer

Table of Contents

This deceives me and makes me look pretty. I don’t belong here in this boundless world, Enveloped by enchanted winds and delicacy.

Your natural aura collapses into a never-ending mirror.

Why me?

With my pessimism and terror.

Your casing is gritty like the sand engulfing my feet. Looking at the long-lasting series of my life, emphasizing my defeat.

This appearance of beauty staring back at me with no remorse, Teaching me a lesson.

A world within a world flashing before my eyes,

A Flawed life in disguise.

A World within a world,

The angelic sound fills the infernal silence,

Your cruel majesty completely unfurled.

A vibration so melodic,

But the reflection of morals is oddly quixotic.

How did I get here?

The layers of my torturous life are transient, causing me distress. A world within a world.

You release a roar that triggers the waves and scares the sun. Each faulty memory, I avoid eye contact. You have won.

The Oooohh reminds me of a premature kitten's purr.

What are you trying to say?

The tall mountains howl, flooding the scenery. More reflections cast and somehow, I still gaze at them. A world within a world, it has changed my theory. I am affixed.

Being a part of the world led to the conflict! Departed from reality in a never-ending marathon.

The conductor of this immeasurable place, A mentor in disguise.

Reflecting on my inconsistent life ethics Is my guide to becoming wise.

A world within a wise world.

Can I go back? Carli Amos ‘25

Until We Were Gone

Our lives you’ve turned all topsy-turvy. With machines, you deem more worthy. Of your time and of your money, And forget the lands you have left sullied.

You take our lives for personal gain.

As you hide behind the word “humane.” You take what’s ours without a blink, Yet you wonder why we’ve gone extinct.

You overuse me and watch me flow.

Well, now you shall reap what you have sown. You run me tirelessly until I’m dry. Yet for more of me, you sob and cry.

You turn a blind eye to the burdens we shoulder, For love and family, yet we are treated as lower. For equality and freedom, you question why we plead While you refuse to provide us with what we need.

So, to those who put our lives at stake. And to those who are ignorant to whom they forsake. I’ll tell you once, right here and now, So, take your seats and hunker down.

It will soon be too late to repair. A world plagued by death and despair. Its people will struggle to carry on. Because you didn’t notice until we were gone.

Here lies the rose: Who takes all the blows Of society's throws, Yet continued to grow and arise

Though her vivid beauty Yields many shades for sure, She makes it her duty To bewilder and allure.

Où elle a vieillit,

Gabriella Andolino ‘25

À : une Rose

She grows tough thorns

Parce qu’elle choisit

To acknowledge it rather than mourn

She flaunts her pigment with grandeur, Her features with grace.

When gone, she makes you pander With a smile on her face

She may happen upon hate, Or hurdle into hazard, But she must hold her own weight And her thoughts must stay gathered

The Persecution of Pollution

The earth is a place we all hold dear, but these problems are starting to get more severe. We must find the solution to minimize pollution.

Plastic, paper, people, polluting the earth questioning how it’s not illegal. People placing pieces, poisoning the earth, watching as our home begins to collapse as if it has no worth.

The earth is our dumpster, full of trash and clutter. For we are the hunters, wanting her to suffer. The earth is like a rare stone, but we’re still ungrateful. We mine for the hope of finding something gainful.

We pollute the air, now weary and suffocating. We pollute the water, now unclear and devastating. We pollute the land, now droopy and nauseating. We pollute our home, now gloomy and deteriorating.

Our earth is as beautiful as a glistening diamond, yet no one is listening despite the riots.

When she no longer looks as good as gold, who will help keep pollution under control?

Sydney Assenmacher ‘25

The Leaning Landscape of the Mind

The hill on which the landscape leans is the very place our person grows keen. Below the town, the foundation sleeps the rest our minds long to keep. Oh, mind, great city, the darkness consumes. Beware of leaning, for that fall will be your doom.

Now, rest, young mind, for a battle awaits. Stand tall and upright, or rather meet your fate. Oh sleeping, silent, sacred mind, be present and conscious for safety to find. The placid lands that surround you will quake, if peace is not restored in the sentient, sapient, space that you wake.

Awake, young mind and save thyself. Awake and stop the leaning shelf.

Awake, and escape the darkness that creeps from below. Awake and gaze upon the stunning landscape that flows. Awake, from this slumber before it is too late. Awake, young mind, do not hesitate.

Oh, leaning landscape, your color radiates like flowers in the spring, but lean farther, and your light drains from everything. Listen like a bat, for the cries of the residents in the town, as the leaning continues down, down, down. Please dear mind, save the sanity that clings like a leech for dear life. Bring yourself back to the placid land, or face darkness and its strife.

Crack! as the supports slowly begin to break.

Rumble! as the clouds move in and sunlight aches.

Whistle! as the wind brings in the cold and dark.

Screech! as the leaning city continues to embark.

Whack! as the surrounding landscape is disturbed.

Groan! as the pressure on the mind is perturbed.

The great city in her glory cries for help.

She implores the mind to wake and yelp.

The sky closes in, and the residents of her beg.

The darkness encroaches from the side up her leg.

It is now a plea, a final hope.

Just then, the mind awakes and saves the slope!

Catherine Baker ‘25

Appetite:

An Ekphrastic Poem on Art Imperialism, Patriarchy, and Picasso

A landscape

Untouched by breath and light. Glowing horizon and inky blue sky Swells with anticipated stings. Trampled by Magellan’s finest leather boots,

Falls, husked, to the floor.

An animal; Poised sphinx with perfect curvature. Wise-muscled and warm Wrangled, howling, from her wild.

Stretches to the technicolor confines of her circus cage, Gaze sagging below the horizon.

A woman

Awakened from fitful rest. Spends the eve of her wilting Willing and willing and willing.

Holds tight to her mask, Submits with shaking hands and head.

A muse,

Lucklessly alluring. Radiant beauty bastardized. Bleeding like ink through sketchbook pages.

Invoked with sneering insincerity, Image beheld behind closed doors.

An object

Static, stale, discarded. Departed already to save herself

And bruised in tonesAn artist’s palette, Dangling limp in the hand of a god.

Last, a truth

There is an appetite in this world All the muses could not satisfy:

To own, to control, to claim by portraying, To sculpt with fingerprints and force, To capture that which transcends.

Margaret Eidenshink ‘23

What Could Be

I sit beside the fire and think I think of all that I have seen Meadows, fields of flowers, and warm April showers, The summer waves and golden sky

In autumn’s cold, with yellow leaves, The crinkle under my feet With the mornings silver sun shining high, The wind in my hair, my cheeks red

I sit beside the fire and think Of how the world will be

When winter comes without a spring And summer without an autumn.

Still, there are so many things That I have yet to see Places left undiscovered And oceans depths left untouched.

I sit beside the fire and think

Of people long ago…. And people who will see a world…. That I shall never know.

Ani Berman ‘25

The Critical Concerns Through The Art of Poetry

If a plant needs the sun, why are there shadows? Unknown in the roar of the meadows, hidden behind the tall plants above, a simple plant lays unloved.

When the sun is finally shared, the hidden plant is rightfully spared. Tthe water can help it grow, the plant is quickly concealed not to show,

Some plants were born to flourish, placed in a situation not to perish. Some were hidden from the start, with no way of a restart.

A gardener cares for the oppressed, the wilting plant is precisely assessed, but when admiration is in question, the bigger plant has all the attention.

No chance of salvation, an article born into damnation. Some were meant to thrive. Others may not survive.

Future generations will think we hated the polar bear, Or that we must have been ignorantly and blissfully unaware. But the effects are present, each consequence looming. Humanity’s narcissistic, nefarious needs are nonstop consuming.

When Jesus was small, General Sherman stood tall. In the California woods, it seemed he would never fall. We forever sang his praise, but failed to amend our ways. In the California woods, the General’s home caught ablaze.

At the top of the world, stood a landscape of ice, But humankind refused to listen to the experts’ advice. Softly, at first, the ice began to cry.

Then water poured down, like the tears of a broken heart, as the sun filled the sky.

The bees carry the weight of the world on their wings, Yet our poisons bring death to Earth’s queens and her kings. The lions’ roar once so mighty and revered, Now rarely heard because the pride has disappeared.

Spring has arrived, and the flowers have sprung. They dance and they twirl, giving air to our lungs. I implore you to help so they will last for a while, And allow our future generations a chance to smile. Camille Campbell ‘25

Allison Macartney ‘24

Her domain of tears, darkness, and frightful nights, Tragedy to all who threaten her two bright lights. A woman, only so fierce, so strong and violent, Feared by the ones who she has turned silent.

For a man runs if he is so warned, But the fools are left to fall and be mourned. Powerful men so quick to run and hide, All from a woman with the night on her side.

Her one light follows proud and true. The same terror strikes from her when he comes for you. Wings of black, wings of night, Beauty enhanced by his mother’s moonlight.

The other now shines to calm and prolong, For he put the mortals to sleep and dreams of life oh-so-long. Now these two men, they hold their power. But behold comes the night, get down and cower.

The story of her rampage spreads faster than fire, But what is true of my warning, oh so your sharp mind inquire? Yes, I say the truth, Nyx is feared but only if they know. For she is a woman, a woman unrightfully feared, just like you. Aleah Carter ‘25

World of Denial

We must learn to accept that our world has changed. No longer can we continue our selfish ways. Our world was once a beautiful flower Until it fell into human power

Adapting to the world that we have made Will only add to the ever-growing pain Making a difference will only start If we let go of our differences And follow our hearts.

We all love the world that we all share, But what happens when we breathe polluted air?

Our earth is trying to tell us that it is tired Of humans lighting it on fire.

We cannot escape the world we have created. We are the only ones who are able to save it We must come together to lift the cloak, And see our world has been covered in smoke.

As our world becomes less inhabitable, We all must decide to join the battle To fight for our home during its time of struggle Instead of letting it turn to rubble.

We must care for our world As it has cared for us Before what’s left of it turns to dust.

A Female Experience

She feels eyes on her, Roaming around her body, Lingering where they shouldn’t, Watching her, objectifying her.

They see her as prey, themselves the wolves, Hunted wherever she goes. Her skin crawls when she hears the howls, Those oh-so-awful howls.

They surround her like cancer, Waiting for an answer, Put on the spotlight, Like a caged dancer

Nice guys finish last, they say.

And good boys go to heaven. And bad boys bring heaven to you. All she got was hell.

She was done. A bag in hand. Taking her life back.

The howls faded in the distance.

Mackenna Conish ‘25

The Way It Was

The world we’ve all lived in since day one Is the place where the world has begun. We’ve always lived in this beautiful place, But it was not always a full-speed race.

Everyone is racing for something that may not be there, Disregarding whom they hurt and scare No one cares how people feel or who they really are, In their eyes, we are all the same.

The world is full of violence and pain; everyone is just playing a game.

Once, the world was full of peace and love

Once, it contained all the above.

Once, people became violent and greedy.

Once, we evolved a peace treaty.

The world is cruel, and people only care about what they want and need.

People used to love, but now the world is full of greed. We're like snakes and mice.

No one in the world is kind or nice.

This is not the way things have to be.

The change can start with you and me.

A little kindness is all it takes To end the cruelty and hate.

Devon Danner ‘25

The Love We Long For

Nonviolence, the way of the wise, A path of peace that never dies, A gentle force that can change the world, Hope bundled up that can be uncurled...

This journey we choose, To mend the world and heal its bruise

Love is blind,

And compassion is not a crime.

A light that shines

In the darkest places of our mind

As bright as the sun

This road to peace has just begun.

It takes great strength to walk this way, To keep up the loyal love we display, To stand up for what is right and just, To live a life, we can trust.

We keep on moving, With hate we are removing. Always, the sun smiling down on us, We will build a bright future, with no fuss. Sarah Delladonna ‘25

Infinite routes to explore

193 states

Beauty in every corner

A place we can paint

The sky so bright

The ocean a clear blue

The mountains so tall

A place we drew

On this earth, we grow

The fresh air, we gulped.

With our little hands to our working gloves

A place we sculpt

The aroma of flowers

The waterfall newly discovered In attempt to make the world our oyster

A place we color

A place we live

A place we love

A place we thrive

A place we call home until the gift of above

Chloe DiIenno ‘25

Our Only Home That’s Fading Away

We have only one home. That home is Earth, herculean and grand, A gift to all creatures, trusted in our hand. From mountains high to oceans deep, An ideally utopian world, for us to keep.

We have only one home. But we take it for granted. Our actions have left it haggard and stranded. Pollution and waste have jeopardized The progress our planet had realized.

Has the time now come to take a stand, To protect the Earth, with aegis in hand, To rid our Earth of parasites, And take back its inalienable rights?

We have only one home. And we are caretakers of her land, Incumbent on us to lend a hand.

Earth will not succumb to neglect, So long as we pledge to recycle and protect.

So let us each apply our catholic mind, For the damage we’ve done we can rewind. Ephemeral is our time on Earth, Time to show the next generation what we are all worth.

The Shadows

The hair stands up on the back of my neck, For I see the shadowy figures standing, surveying, stalking as they check, The land that was once mine. It has turned into a place filled with malign, And I can’t feel the once known bliss, Only now I feel the newly turned evil abyss.

The moon up above casts a dim twilight, Twilight not as bright as the blazing light, That the fire down below casts.

As I stand in the shadows aghast, I hope that within the night, The twilight does not see me and catch sight.

The wind howls as the trees up above dance and sway, The backs of the shadowy figures provide such a feeling of disarray. I know these creatures have been lurking around for some time, But right now, they are most definitely in their prime. They evoke a grave sense of danger and fear, To everyone and everything that is here.

All the most comfortable things in the world, Could not relieve this sense of fear being hurled, At me from such a great distance.

Out of everything in my existence, I have never seen such a creature, Who is lacking so many normal and obvious features.

When these strangers appeared, All my bravery diminished and disappeared. Still hidden, I stare closer and more intently.

I shift my stance in the cold snow below oh so gently, And almost let out an astonished gasp, As I see the figure grasp the watch that I had left there, with my grandfather’s ancient clasp.

The snow-covered campground, Makes a sort of crunching sound, As I shift my feet on the ground. Crunch!

I am trying my best to hide, and I get a hunch. I look up from my stance and I freezeAs I see the yellow eyes staring back at me

Crisis Ignored

The Earth is drowning, the seas are rising, Which means the land is sinking. The seas are rising, Which means we are sinking.

The Earth is rotting, pollution is spiraling. Noxious gases seep deep into our earth, sweep through our streets. Gases and waste choke us daily. We sit idle as they poison everything in their path.

The Earth is losing its forests, deforestation is devastating. The trees disappear, exposing barren land. But do people know that without the trees, there is no us. Because trees are like filters, providing oxygen, nourishing our lungs.

The Earth is dangerous, natural disasters are ravaging. The twisting bodies of tornadoes rip through the Midwest. The earthquakes make the ground jump and shake, buildings crash. Our earth cracked, bruised, broken beyond repair.

Kiersten Dunlap ‘25

But do we realize, there is nowhere to go, Nowhere to run, nowhere to escape? Earth is our only hope for another day. Another month, year, decade, century. The earth is our home. So why do we mistreat it, When the fate of our world, Depends on its perseverance?

Race is not to blame People are all the same. No matter what color, We should support one another.

Yet we look at each other and point a finger, And continue to allow racism to linger. When we view people as one, The issue at hand will be done.

Life is full of division, Remember Martin Luther King’s vision? He had a dream, We would live in a nation less extreme.

Let’s set aside our abnormalities, And make a common good our reality. Why do we feel the need to gain all control? When we could all try and reach one goal.

While we still have the opportunity, Let’s establish a society brought together in unity. Why is this even a debate? We are the example of our fate.

Luciana Elliott ‘25

“Stop talking about it”- Morgan Freeman

Who Cares About the Fall?

Gray and cold stone lining the shore, Men walking aimlessly around the glimmering green water, And I realized that today is bright.

With the water waving wickedly against the wooden ships, and sheep as white as snow snuggling on the sand, I know today should be bright.

I know that the cold water should not be piercing my skin, surrounding my body and robbing me of my air.

I know that the city lining the ocean does not care about me, about my fall from grace.

I know that the man walking along the stone path stays unbothered, but I did not know that I was so inconsequential.

Jagged rocks breaking through green and glimmering waters, ships going along the dips in the ocean as the wind rips my wings apart. With the ocean’s sweet sound echoing around us, the smell of the salt in air as I crash through, I am erased. Mountains, oceans, and ships all exist here but, here is where I come to meet my maker.

Can I ask a question? Only if it would be permissible to you, may I ask a question?

Do the waves whisper in the crest of your ear as they do to me? I hear their subtle voice, rugged and crass, telling me to sink deeper into their embrace. I feel their arms, cold and unforgiving, circle my body and pull me in. So I ask, is the ocean a friend to you too?

Whispering back to the oceans call, ‘Yes, my friend take me away with your siren song! Tear me away from the trees flourishing in green.

Snatch my body from the salty sea air and make me plunge. It would not matter, my friend, if you took me away. It would not mess with routine, the city would not quake, and that man will not care.’

Inconsequential am I, to the world around!

My fall as unimportant as a leaf falling to the ground in autumn. Falling like lamb on unstable footing, passing the man with his donkey on my way.

The town behind me does not shake, it does not care, just as the man stays undisturbed. Forgive me but I just have to ask, does anyone care about the fall? Who cares about my fall?

The Cycle Ends

The bright light greets me, followed by the deafening chatter of tiny birds. New beginnings budding from the ash. Dark clouds crying with tears of joy.

Pale skin darkening under the sweltering heat, Met with screams from the sky, Sweet nectar released by the fresh fruit, rushing out like a river.

Fresh summer breeze exits the atmosphere. Flames of fire flutter in the field. The floor has yet to be found. Warm and tender feelings in the air.

Burrowing inside the house, not even lava can keep me warm, Grieving times of life and expecting rebirth Festering and trapped inside the self-imposed dungeon

The months turn into years, and no buds bloom. The deep, dark blue surrounds us all, and we return to the ocean before we are due. The dark clouds of love are early, bargaining for what I took for granted will change nothing. Simone French ‘25

O beloved Starbucks Drink, You compassionate, delicious thirst quencher, Radiating a soulful pink, My immediate day mender. The perfect afterschool pick-me-up, All coming from a Venti size cup.

What amazing guilty pleasure!

My eager mouth waters like a fresh puddle of rain, Excitement fills me to the brim as I watch the barista measure. How are you able to eliminate all my pain!

O wonderous first sip feeling, All my problems rise away to the ceiling.

Pink drink, pink drink Starbucks’ sweetest, sealed surprise. I love looking at the lusciousness of your liquid, The most beautiful sight to my awaiting eyes. What angelic, shade of light pink that shows through the clear container, When placing my order, it is really a no brainer!

O liquid bundle of joy!

O delightful, sugary refresher!

O source of true happiness!

O amazing fatigue suppressor!

O popular pink drink, Consume it all in a blink!

Your fresh, cold ice cubes keep me awake, Dancing across the brim of the liquid, Like an elegant swan floating along a lake. What glistening beauty shines through your clear cup, As the sun hits through the window on the left, I say, “Bottoms up!”

O pink drink, pink drink, Your beauty does not go unknown, Despite what one may think, My love for you is shown.

If happiness could be bottled, I’d drink you every day Gulp. But until then, my friend, I’ll be in dismay.

Earlier today, I spoke. I spoke over silence. I spoke over sound. I spoke over people with something to say. But now I am silent, awkward, listening. Maybe I always have been.

You are not silent or awkward or listening. Yet, your great mind cannot find something to say either. I feel your urge for noise as you turn up the volume. My eardrums are not empty, but still, they search. They search for comments and get one. You are all too predictable.

I am too. I plan out my morning and night. I’m planning out this drive–take a sharp right at this tree. You tell a joke, I roll my eyes. When I turn my head, I know what I will find. A sly, stupid side-smirk. Predictable.

We drive in the car. We do not sing. We do not speak. I hear a slam, a swear, a beat. There is so much to hear. There is nothing to say. Comfortable silence is louder now.

I could stay here for a million years. In this car, in this loud silence. Nothing can get to me here. There is no judgment or fear. I do not have to try. I am who I am. When there is nothing to say, I can say nothing at all.

Sometimes we will speak. Remember your freshman year at the beach. Remember our religions.

Recuerda eso no puedo hablar español.

But now I am silent again, and I would not have it another way. Sarah Giordano ‘25

Questions from a Woman

Why are we considered secondary,

To those who do not understand the burdens we carry?

Why are we held to higher standards,

When they are the ones who need to learn some manners?

Why are we burdened with the responsibility?

Of protecting ourselves because of that possibility?

Why are we victims of the unnecessary?

When will they learn? We’re sick and tired of the commentary.

Why do we allow rules made by men who are grown, Based off their opinions what our bodies should or should not condone?

Why are we still accepting the control and command,

Of the people who will never experience these problems firsthand?

Why are we seen as brainless as a bird, When for so long they would not let our voices be heard?

Why are we never given enough credit for our grit, When we fall, we know how to bounce back from our hit?

When did they assume their position as primary?

Probably when they were intimidated by women that were legendary. When will they accept that she is a force; unbreakable and strong?

So, the real question is: why were we held back for so long?

Grace Githens ‘25

The Golden Shadows

As body standards arrive, women fight to stay alive. Little girls' confidence is starting to die.

Little do we know that the future has a surprise.

I wish womanhood were as easy as eating ice cream, But it is a nonpaying job that has the hardest degree. It could seem like roses, but with thorns still being a thing.

Being a woman is finding your voice for what you believe in.

Being a woman is having the pleasure of always going first. Being a woman is experiencing the growth of your own confidence. Being a woman is being willing to rise after being shot.

As shocking styles and standards start to strive, It’s the constant need to always be over the standard five. Dealing with many miserable men will always be in our lives. The hope of equality between gender roles will always be in a women's eyes.

The laughing of children is music to women's ears, Always having to please people for their own needs. Women have the power to nurture baby birds. Women are so strong and powerful in what they withhold.

Non-Violence

You stand preaching non-violence But your violence fills the world with silence like a fly, Only coming out when you start to pry,

I see through your fake kindness Instead, you refill your dark void which is screaming with violence. You don’t hold compassion. Your mercy you ration.

Your mindset is set straight Is there anything I can do to make you change? You hold your head up tall But violence is the one that speaks for you all.

We must take away your power, Causing you to cower

I won't back down till your violence is concealed, But I know you, always putting up an exposing shield

Is it really your goal to add fuel to the fire? You're walking on a tightrope drawn into a wire, While my goal is to spread kindness

I can't do that if you stay silent! Fiona Haberstroh ‘25

The clouds smile, and words flow out.

Songs are sung almost silently, only for the listener to hear And her mind becomes devoid of doubt.

She seems at peace to those who stare, But what she is seeing is left only for her eyes. Her head is filled with her hopes.

When sleeping soundly on the shore, Dreams one of a kind can be imagined.

And sometimes so surreal that one can only wish for more. Taking place in a location too magical to ever be creat, Full of peace and beauty, But often too much to see.

Innocent and pure,

The unicorn soars in the heavens like a bird, As if it is the only cure

To a lifeless life.

A way to escape reality

For a single night, just one dream.

A fish-like woman fallen ill from the deep blue, Brought to the shore by an unsuspecting sailor, One who got separated from his crew.

He trusts easily and has no worries about what she could be. The chance that she could be an evil fish. One whose motive is to harm, a Siren.

The flowing river does not stay straight. Instead, it twists and turns below, Bending in a dream like state. Wild colors, wild imagination, wild creatures Becoming free for a night That will keep them satisfied.

A dream is never planned.

They appear seemingly out of nowhere Arising from a place that others

Specific to one’s own thoughts and mind

Never knowing if they truly exist

Maybe in another world, in another life…

Lauren Haenn ‘25

My 17 Small Little Island

17 miles long, my small little island

Driving across that bridge as my head floods with memories Rolling down my window, the salty air grazes my face

17 miles long, my small little island

Stepping outside

Feeling the hot sand on my feet like lava rocks

Looking out at the elegant blue ocean

Seeing the waves sway in and out together as one

The seagulls squawking strongly

The jingling sound coming from the top of the dunes

The sun turning my skin a strawberry pink

Selling homemade jelly sand pancakes

Years go by

Driving down the bridge for the millionth time

Looking out at the beastly blue ocean

Seeing the waves crash one on top of another

17 miles long, my small little island

Different than once before

The beach slipping out from under me

The wind turbines cluttering the blue ocean

What have you done to my small little island?

Lauren Hepler ‘25

Who will be accused when our earth collapses? As the days go on and the pollution builds on, Like every time we hear the earth cry for help, We say there is only so much to be done through dusk and dawn.

The buildings are giving off this disgusting smoke. This smoke lies above sitting in the air, As we watch it rise like a balloon cut loose, Not a minute to decide if we really care.

We must stand up and not let this happen. Another habitat is destroyed. Crash! For with every new building We pretend they are not trash.

Our earth is a wildfire burning, With no time left to hop. We must take chances with the odds And stop licking our lollipops.

So, who will be accused of the earth collapsing? We all ask ourselves not wanting to know. The earth being our home, The earth we watch as it glows

Audrey Herron ‘25

Our World With Hate

Racism stains our world with hate, A poison that we can't abate. It tears us apart, day by day, A vicious cycle that won't go away.

Our differences, once celebrated, Are now the source of much hatred. We judge and we condemn, Based on the color of our skin.

Racism breeds division and strife, A cancer that infects all of life. It robs us of our unity, And leaves us in a state of hostility.

Our hearts grow hard, our souls grow weak, As we judge and discriminate and speak Words that wound and hurt scar, Leaving us farther from who we are.

But we can rise above this curse, And build a world that's free of hurt. We can learn to love and appreciate, And make a world that's truly great.

Cora Hisler ‘25

Music of Before

It is a sharp color you cannot miss. It swiftly drains all hope and bliss. The color suggests a time long lost. Its soul weary from life’s heavy cost. The same life that was once anything but blue, but was vivid and bright and shiny and new.

He is aged and faded to a dull light blue.

He is tired and jaded, far from brand new. His bony hands, strumming for all of forever, old, forgotten tunes ought to be heard never. Those sunken eyes, remembering yesterday, once again lost in the music of today.

His clothes are ragged and severely torn They just barely shelter a soul severely worn. Poor in both spirit and in wealth, he is a broken old clock, who is trapped in time himself. His feet were once stood on and once his own, but now remain bare, tired, and alone.

The chocolate guitar endured changing times like no other. She did it all without dulling in color. Seemingly clueless of the blues all around, she sings and sings through the bad times and through the profound. Her music is beautiful in a time of darkness and distress. She remains young but is timeless no less.

There is a shadow that is filled with secrets, darkness, and lies, and it slowly engulfs the music and the man with the sunken eyes. Its intentions continue to be unclear, yet somehow the gruesome call of death seems to be near. It is as though the dark shadow is on a mission, like a hungry, scavenging dog seeking nutrition.

There is a window that displays the rest of humanity, both busy and distant, humming the tune of insanity. This outside world has changed so much, forgetting yesterday’s tunes and their timeless, treasured touch. But if one stops their rush to look in, even from afar, they would finally see the blue man and hear his guitar.

Abby Howard ‘25

Borderline Caffeine Addiction

Coffee is derived from many places on Earth. However, not all coffee beans are of the same worth. Whether it comes from Europe or Asia, Unique flavors dance on tastebuds with fantasia.

Kopi luwak, the most expensive in stock, Born in Indonesia, how it is made might make one gawk. Asian civets ingest coffee cherries; they partially digest. This special process is what makes kopi luwak taste best!

Yes, these beans come from waste, but there is nothing bad about the taste. Nutty, rich, and delicious, for your body it is auspicious.

Turkish coffee, always heated, but never boils. Grounds fine as powdered sugar never spoils. Arabica beans provide a needed depth of flavor.

Taste the foam, taste the brew, taste it and savor.

Growing in perfect conditions, Colombian coffee is unlike any other, Harvesting traditions contribute to delicious coffee fit for your mother!

Heavily chocolatey and nutty, light floral and fruity notes, As the boldest coffee profile, it receives my vote!

Humans, much like coffee, come from many different backgrounds. These places of origin do not define coffee, nor a person on any grounds. We must be inclusive to people of different races, Just as we taste and accept coffee from different places. Sydney Hrlic ‘25

Finding Peace and Love in Nonviolence

Violence among us has grown so large. Peace and love are no longer in charge! The world is hateful and cruel.

Kids are afraid, even to go to school.

You may be thinking there's nothing we can do, But trust me on this, it's all up to you. Meter by meter we can make an impact. We can get peace and love back intact!

It just takes kindness not a million dollars or years. It just takes kindness and for people to hear!

It just makes the world so full of greed and sorrow. It just needs to give out some love to borrow.

Violence and hate are not what we need! You just need to plant the seed.

A little love goes a far long way. That is what we all need to say.

I know we can all make the beautiful colorful earth a safer home for us all! Stop the violence and start to let love fall. Let it fall from you and fall from me!

And next thing you know we will all see.

Women are Worthy

Makeup hides our flaws. Sometimes people will criticize and say, “You do it for the applause.” When we don’t wear makeup, we feel bare. Which makes us think some people stare.

Makeup is a form of expression. “Women do it for attention.” Women are wonderfully worthy! We all have our own journey.

We are beautiful with our glowing natural skin, luscious hair and without wearing makeup. We should say what we think and stand up. Women are happy in their skin, That’s where we should begin.

Women are super strong and stunning. Girls' confidence should not be running. Women should embrace, Instead of race.

Comparision to others will leave us in a slam. Loving yourself will make you as happy as a clam! Everyone is special in their own way. You are perfect to display!

Anna Kelly ‘25

Concerns To Learn

Silence is violence for all to see, Let not your silence be a weapon to me. We ache, we hurt, we throb, we burn Let not your silence be harmful for all. Stand up using your voice, as keeping quiet is being violent.

Earth, Oh Earth how precious you are! Your oceans, Oh, so near, so far The sky as blue as the oceans themselves, The grass so green like peas in a pod, Protect the earth, so we can continue life as we know it.

Women so determined, so strong, so kind, Sometimes, they can be hard to find. Such great women making impacts in history, Like Harriet Tubman, who was powerful, determined, and fearless. A great leader for all women to see.

Over the years, we have made progress, Racism has become far less. Racial equality fought over many wars, Lives lost, people injured, many left harmed. A difference can be made, spreading kindness and love.

Equal opportunity for jobs, education, and health, Many people in life want wealth. All people should get the opportunity to enjoy life. Kids in a candy store is what it should be. Let’s stand together to help people savor life.

A Home in Vain

From the green grass, To the shining stars and sun, Here is our home. It is our only one.

The flowers cry for help, Once blossoming and lush. Now, asleep. They say, “Remember when I was beautiful and blush?

The ocean is like a beast, Filled with trash and rage. The fish, angry as a fire, For they are in a plastic cage.

Once a beating heart, Full of birds in the sky, Now full of hurt. Is there still time?

Pattering Rain Are really tears of pain. It is our fault. We have left this land in vain. Payton Kelly ‘25

Escaping into the Blue

Far above the foreign hills, on thin stilts we rise, sweeping and staining the ever-blue sky. So far above our world we no longer hear its cries, we soar and whisper a passionate goodbye, one so soft it remains nearly unheard.

Inside this rattling train car, the once antifragile adventurers, nervously laughing and crying, are little ones learning to swim, holding their breath and closing their eyes. Their sounds remain echoing all while I am simply trying to let go of the troubles, the pressure, the dark lies, that I long to forever leave behind.

The clouds in the sky gasp as they see us go by, but Oh! How desperately I wish for them to see the look on my face, not one of agony or despair, but one of deep, fine grace. I am overcome with faith, not a worry or care, as I sing a soft and sweet little prayer.

We shall not be frightened on this risky, rickety ride, for despite our height, the cooling tone of blue air whizzes by, and we listen with all of our might to the melody penetrating our hearts from the far distance of the sky. Even the sobbing infant abandons his cry.

Who knows where these tracks will take us? What utopian land? What deep abyss? I feel the blue, and oh my!

It washes over me and feels like one gentle Kiss, a God-given gift from His Throne way up high. No longer out of sorrow do we weep.

That empty chair, my place at the table, left behind in the world I hate, stands so far away, as long as I am surrounded by nothing but this beautiful fate. The sky is never gray, but a majestic blue, a blue ever so triumphant and true.

First impression, let's just mention

It all seems pretty glorious.

Until that second glance, takes a strong stance

On how one's vision sees things.

Do not look at the fire, it takes the entire

Meaning of the picture away.

The clouds are like a divider; keeping away the fire from the beautiful sunset

The clouds are like a mystery; what is the purpose behind them?

The clouds are like a waterfall; stopping the flames from spreading.

The clouds are like a snowy day; something everyone sees joy in.

The clouds are like a Goddess above; looking down at true reality. The clouds are like a distraction; hiding the pain from the bright fire.

The dark trees take away the joy

From the pure pink painless sky, one can enjoy

The dark half of the picture, you may want to destroy

Do not take something so precious, and play with it like a toy

Oh, cherry tree standing tall, no you do not annoy

You make things seem a bit brighter, you teach to overjoy.

What does the Cherry Tree see?

Beauty? Violence? Birth? Death? So many things, it could be. Picture a baby being born, starting a new life oh how free!

Now picture death, of old of new, does it create absentee?

Beauty vs. Violence, they seem to disagree

Nothing comes together, to be as pretty as me, a tall standing Cherry Tree!

The clouds and fire float

Into the ocean where you may find a boat

Ocean breeze ah so calming, waves sound like a musical note

No worries, you're safe in the ocean, the fire is remote.

Since you have made it down here, look up by the coast

So, will you take this information at its most?

Crack! Snap! Splash! The tree comes down

Tumbling off it makes a sound.

This cannot be real it is just so pretty

Now I have a deep deep feeling of pity

I look back at the picture, it was all just fake

The tree’s still standing, O how great!

Our Rock

I, am to family, as ocean is to earth. Foundation is most important and begins at birth. “I know only one thing, and that is I know nothing,” But the earth is our rock, and the water is running.

Most of the oxygen we breath is from the ocean, Like a breeze on a hot day, it appeals to our emotions. Water makes up 71% of the earth's surface Do we respect the ocean and its purpose?

The Earth is big and as strong as Hercules. Did we go wrong? Tell me please! When pollution and waste fill our water, Will the cleanup and refresh be in order?

Our ocean is slowly failing

Why are we only staring?

We are not doing enough, as if we’re on a break. It's time to wake up and stop the heartache!

Let's start helping before it's too late. We need to love our earth, not hate! So next time you're standing on a dock, Remember this is our only rock.

The Enchanting Entrance

O how that lovely entrance exists to come through. It draws you in with a buzz ringing in your ears

And the enchanting blue hue Walk through with a whirling swoosh

And be transported to an alternate dimension With otherworldly landscapes that mystify

Swaying with the wind and the trees in the breeze. You are surrounded by the glistening green grass that grows. Look over your shoulder to see the sparkling neighboring seas. In the beachside location where it never snows, The winding hills carry you up and down the curves And the moonlight rays shining down on you.

The great big bridge that towers over every being Seemingly as high up as Mount Everest

The ridges of the bridge show double in its reflections In the shining pool of ocean below that is clearest

With train tracks coating the top going in two directions But the burden of a choice with only one right way to go

O how the moonlight sparkles across the water.

O how the moonlight traces the wheels of the dashing train

O how the moonlight shines through the clouds amongst the stars design

O how the moonlight gleams in the darkness of it all.

O how the moonlight gives the train tracks a lustrous shine.

O how the moonlight never ceases into the night.

The constant loneliness is the only thing that assures you in this strange world. It is only you, and you alone.

For there is not a single breath or living sound in the depths of the unknown. Not a chime in the winds, not a crunch in the bordering fields Yet you are drawn to remain here because of the appeals. The inviting elevation, the enticing splash of the billows, force you to stay.

The horn of the train echoes as it approaches

With a roaring sound as it rolls across the tracks

Do not cry yourself a river as big as the one below, And do not drown in your consuming thoughts.

To get on the train and shrink back? Or stay in this strange realm to grow? You will ponder alone in the darkness.

Olivia Lepore ‘25

The Loss of Myself

It glares with its menacing eyes

Taunting me with all its glory.

“Take me by the hand,” it says, but I do not want it Oh, how it hurts me, please stop!

It holds my life tightly, threatening to take it.

It laughs in my grip, the final straw. I cannot take it anymore!

Contorted limbs, gasping for air Time freezes one moment too late. If only someone was there to listen. Maybe it wouldn’t have come to this, But it tempted me so nicely. How could I refuse?

Red lips, red blanket, red blood A beautiful color, tainted by being Splattered humanity dribbles out freely

A color so full of anguish, so full of torment

The cascade of beauty runs out, A crimson river of emotion, a final message,

Oh, my thoughts pound like a headache, Crawling out of my mouth in one last breath I do not feel the world around me, Fading away to meet my end, Beyond my body and beyond my mind. This is how I wanted to die.

A wild scene yet so at ease, How comforting the pain is. The worst and best feeling, Delusions fill my head, As my life empties out.

The limbo between life and death

A disgustingly comfortable moment

All the life in the world Not enough to fill the gash Even God himself could not save me now, For I am finished spilling out, Rotting away alone, With no one to notice, And no one to care. Hayden LeVan ‘25

The color stains my closet like paper and ink, The shade of the cosmetics lined about my bathroom sink. So, please I ask you, Just stop and think: Who else could have an aura so impossibly pink?

Yellow, orange, and green are nice, I suppose, As well as violet, and aqua, and ruby red rose, Black, grey, and white Heck! Anything goes. Still, I long to wear pink

From my head to my toes.

The fuchsia dawn’s song calls me to rise, Heaven’s cotton candy dances about her morning skies. Her sunlight streams in, I open my eyes

To blasts of carnation, And sherbet surprise!

As a girl, my walls were painted blush by my dad, And my bed sheets were dressed in peony plaid.

Shiney shoes, poufy skirts And ruffle clad.

I was a walking and talking Gymboree Ad.

Pink crawls through my veins, and swims in my soul. She brightens any day, creating diamonds from coal. Gently calling my name, So she can console, Turning my frown upside down.

Pink makes me whole.

Pink are the slippers I wear when I dance, twirl, and leap. Pink are the elephant pajamas I wear when I sleep.

Pink is my baby blankie.

Pink are the joyful tears I weep.

Pink is prettiest. Pink to whom I hold a love so deep.

Beatrice Lemanowicz ‘23

Violence is amusing, to satisfy our needs. You think about it more and continue to proceed. The feeling is great in the moment of chaos, But guilt crawls up and your words are at a loss.

Violence roars for destruction, like a treacherous sea. It keeps on going, the more you feel free. It continues on, fierce and strong.

It’s hard to stop anger, even if it’s wrong.

Violence makes you have fun, in the moment of time. Violence makes you commit, a very nasty crime.

Violence makes you angry, as you realize what you’ve done. Violence makes you see, how each action was never fun.

Seeking destruction, violence is a hammer, Breaking through walls, with an unsettling manner. Destroying all connections, with those we cherish, Everything we love, seems to perish.

Violence is a curse, which no one draws near. It causes loneliness, which everyone fears. Destruction hits, no one to be found, Alone with your own, silent somber sound.

Gender Equality

Men lead, women follow, they say A patriarchy's rule, day by day All power and control, in their grip With no need for women to equip.

Yet, gender roles are still persistent. Women are still seen as less efficient. Paying gaps, dealing with discrimination, Women still see societies norms as a constant frustration.

Men, stronger, they claim to be, But women, resilient, history can see Surviving wars, abuses, and strife Their determination like a sharp knife

Girls are taught to be demure, Boys to be tough and endure. Society's boxes, they fit us in, But what about those who don't fit in?

It's time for change, for equality, For gender roles, to lose their destiny. It’s time to have equal opportunities, Regardless of their identities.

Elison Maguire ‘25

Too Good to Keep

Surrounded by darkness, without a specific single star to follow in the night sky. My whole life, I have never had a guide such as thy.

I act like I know where I am headed, but every word said is laced with a lie. Somewhere along the lines I met a gift of a woman, that was the best gift, O thank father time.

When she speaks it's the symphony, I have waited to hear my entire life, on repeat ‘til I die. Each time I go to sleep, she’s my only star in the night, that I pray to see when I close my eyes.

The love I have for her is so strong, but it’s a feeling I cannot express any clearer.

It punches the roof of my mouth when I see her with the will to escape like an angry prisoner.

These bars of metal surround my heart, and never let me say it without the outcome’s answer.

Love is described as the most heavenly healer, but I have only seen it used as a deadly killer.

I never mean to hurt her, I can’t let her go, and everywhere she goes I can't help but go with her.

I am not the one who should guide the way, and I have no desire to go any further.

But you can see it in the fire that burns in her eyes, her heart of gold cannot be contained. She is made for something more than this small town where we were raised.

Hidden in her melodies, she’s begging for an escape, somewhere with no footprints planted. So, we journeyed to a snow-covered mountain, where every sound was now silenced. Even the thoughts and words that have been fighting to make it past my lips paused. I never thought I could have made it this far from everything I have ever learned.

And as the moon rose, we built this fire, and all night long she wanted to conspire About each plan we were going to make and each trip we would take together. In the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but think I had almost held her back from better. If it wasn’t for her, I would still want to be stuck in the same place forever.

And a girl like her deserved to hold the world at the tip of her finger.

Deep down I knew these were all things I could never give her

As she shut her delicate eyes for a peaceful sleep, I thought of the act I must perform. To sneak away into the dark of the night, while my heartbreak becomes a storm. I took one more look at her beautiful face, before my pain turned full form.

And with a heavy heart I walked away, losing any feeling of warm.

And that was not because the fire was at a further distance, that only made me skerm. It is because she: my only source of light, is gone, and this cold I feel is a constant alarm.

As I made it closer to home, I thought of turning back, but I was already in too deep. I just have to comprehend that some things are just too good to keep. Without me there holding her back, I hope she takes every single big leap. But now I realize no place will ever feel like home without her by my side, so I’ll weep. And now I feel so lost, like every challenge is too steep.

Once again, I am not able to see my favorite star in the sky that guides, but maybe in my sleep.

Abigail Matos ‘25

Rose Sweeney ‘24

The Dichotomy of a Fairytale

The fairytale’s stars shine their lights, and amidst the black sky appear magical and bright. But behind every tale lies a secret, and its darkness will be revealed if you don’t keep it. Those twinkling lights shimmering in the sky are actually the fiery, frightening flames of a lie.

The sea appears calm as the waves lift and soar, with its blue and green colors glistening upon the shore. But the sea’s beauty shines only on the surface, the violent sea threatens to kill you on purpose. Its strength and ferocity hide as never before, its voice is a lion you can hear it roar.

There is a special magic like no other, in the soft, whispering voice of your mother. Telling you stories of mermaids and enchanted shells, her voice dancing across the room like tiny little bells. While the monsters are kept unspoken, hidden and slayed by a heroine with a magic golden token.

But what happens when your childhood fairytale turns black and gray? The monsters under your bed creep around like a tiger approaching its prey. No one is there to protect you like when you were three, Amidst the fear and darkness, you fight your way back to that magic sea. Back to Neverland is the hope you hold, to the days when monsters and demons were only a story to be told.

Oh, fairytale for now, I have shown you my fears. Oh, fairytale I hope the light shining within you will once again appear. Oh, fairytale I send you, my love!

Oh, fairytale my memories of you are more peaceful than a white dove. Oh, fairytale I wish for life’s colors to come flooding back, Oh, fairytale the nightmare will be over, and the sky won’t just be black.

I will picture the sky bright with stars, the warm wind blowing upon my face and soothing my scars.

I will picture the mermaid swimming in the ocean, with her flowing blonde hair and her red dress in slow motion.

I will picture my fears and worries vanishing in the wind. All the safe, happy memories of my childhood flooding back in. Molly Minnich ‘25

We recognize the endless drought, But politicians fill us with constant doubt. The cloud of the future looms over us.

Why is it something we fail to discuss?

The waves grew, grew, and grew, But what will it pursue?

The water is as clear as day, But will the sea send it away?

The water crashes like the closing of a door, We pray the water will never pour. The water is far but inching near. No one cares; that is what we fear.

The worldwide water will wash away, Or will we wait for our bodies to decay?

Will the constant silence, Become violence?

When will we sprout?

When will the world begin to shout?

When will we begin to demand?

When will the world become only land?

Lilly Morrissey ‘25

You Are My Sunshine

I am my mother’s daughter In some ways more than others. She is gallant, genuine, and glimmering with glee, I just try to be.

Our worlds are two opposites, The idea that we are related can often seems preposterous Her spirit is like the sun, Mine is like the web of a spider spun.

Who needs the spider's net? Easily swatted, not finished yet.

Who needs the rays of light?

They are the only reason it is not always night.

Somehow the two worlds have always been good mates. Call us Canada and the United States!

Although we contrast, we also compare, Music, love, and laughter are what we share.

These two hearts share the same flame. My best friend for life is what I proclaim. I know when life hits me like a bomb, No cut can ever go deeper than the love for my mom.

Sophia Munoz ‘25

Addison Foster ‘25

Climate Crisis

The Earth we call home, The place in which we roam Is slowly drowning in a river of tears, But no one can hear the muffling fears.

Time is running out. The Earth is trying to shout. The world is taking turn. We all need to try to learn.

Knowledge is what we lack. We all wish there was an easy hack, But that is not the case.

We are in a climate change race.

If only there was a specific way To show how much we care today. Deforestation, pollution, all crazy things, Droughts and famines longing for the thirst of rain, Which everyone thinks are just little flings

The earth is asking for help, crying. We all wish we could say we were trying. We need to make a serious change, But if we work together, a cure is in range! Sophia Murnane ‘25

Stop Pollution for a Solution

As the sun rises and sets each day the plastic arrives and leaves. We often think it gets thrown away, when it acts as a disease.

We were told the three R’s: Reduce, Reuse, Recycle. It is not on most people's radars that they should get a bicycle.

Greta asked us to take action, so instead of sitting on your yacht, let us all unite to show some passion for all the issues that should not be forgot.

The turtles kept swimming in a circle from that plastic straw you threw in Which made the turtles turn purple. Next time, throw it in a recycle bin.

The earth is our home Let us treat it with respect, or else we will be alone with no planet to perfect.

Misunderstood and mistreated, Our rights constantly overlooked… As women we are often defeated, Our lives are biased and unfair…

Your words are knives, Cutting down our hopes and dreams. Let us women have a life where we thrive! Let us not be on opposing teams!

Why are we treated like crinkled wrapping paper, Ripped and thrown out when not needed anymore? We stand up for ourselves, and labeled a hater, Only to be suppressed furthermore!

We have rights, rights that were and are worth fighting for, Now we don’t want it to be how it was before. We want equal pay, For the gender discrimination to go away!

We must feel empowered to use our voices, And people need to be told a thousand times to listen. Your sexism and stereotypes are killing us, leaving us with less rejoicing. So, stand up for the next generation, for they will glisten.

Jovilee Nickelsberg ‘25

Hallways lined with red and gold like a river directing knowledge, Smiling faces that never forget to acknowledge, From August to May, we come to learn For all four years, they prepare us to earn. How I never want to leave! Oh, do not make me go, please

Coming from far away and feeling some closeness, I chose to face my fears and be dauntless.

Entering the gateway enclosed by two great green doors, I did not know then that this place I would soon come to adore The people I met will stay close to my heart forever No force or power could break these bonds whatsoever.

Learning everything the mind can attain, Reading and writing till my eyes strain, Going from class to class, Learning all about Social Studies, English, and math, Checking Canvas has become my religion,

How could I not when my grades make my decisions?

After the last bell of the day rings, Every student is moving hastily seeing what the rest of the day brings. The turf now awaits my arrival, Practice or game depending on the day serves as my revival. Stress from school killed by my cleats gliding across the green, How nothing compares to being young and free!

After the school day is well over and I have collected my clutter, The sense of Gwynedd does not falter.

I sit on my phone talking to the people I was with all day One would think we would run out of things to say When the weekend rolls around, The same friends from school are whom I surround.

I dread the day when I will hear the final bell ring, And have to part from the girls I consider siblings. I know wonderful opportunities are ahead, But how I would much rather stay here instead. As they always say, The best things are the hardest to leave astray.

Trash hugs the boulevard, The dear street we were supposed to guard. The streets once filled with hope, We now walk on it like a tightrope.

Grass once home to petals, It has now been intruded by metals. Our air will soon be deprived, If we do not do what it takes to survive.

Our world will start to decay, If we do not take matters into our hands today. I want to be able to show my kids our beautiful globe, But right now, that seems like a slippery slope.

Garbage dances around in the rain, More than our shelter can sustain.

To the highest hill and lowest valley, We have the power to change the formalities.

Our Earth’s relationship status, Will be determined by our future habits. Humans cannot be so codependent, As we are Earth’s true defendants.

We have the power to change the future, To stop the forces of our planet abuser. At the end of the day, I ask the same question, When will we learn this valuable lesson? Charley Pascucci ‘25

An Ode to my Partner in Crime

O dazzling Macy, How your beauty overwhelms me!

Your fur a mix of chocolaty brown and white Enchants the eyes of everyone who looks at you.

Your eyes like black glass Lure the attention of everyone who meets them.

Though you are gorgeous, You are more than just your beauty. The affection you shower upon me when I arrive home

Brings forth a warm, fuzzy feeling inside of me. My heart does a backflip

When you display your love for me.

The love you provide to me Compels me to wake up each morning. You are the source of my happiness, My partner in crime.

Without you, I would be lightning without thunder; I would be nothing.

You are my best friend. Without the love you provide me with every day, I would be as empty as my bank account. I would be like Damon without Pythias. I would be an empty, unloved soul That never felt real affection.

You bring happiness to everyone, And you do not even know it. I wish I could talk to you.

Oh, the things I would say to you. I would return the love you show me With the power of words.

My words would travel through you, And you would feel the love you deserve. Even though actions speak louder than words, Sometimes you still need words to show affection. I would never use my words or actions to hurt you Because I love you so much!

Molly Pickett ‘25

The Imperfections of our Utopia

The earth, So forgiving, so plentiful, so generous. Humans, So unforgiving, so unworthy.

As the people fall asleep, The animals creep. The frogs leap. The people count sheep.

The natural agricultural, The behavioral culture. The earth provides for us. We need to be plentiful.

The birds chirp. The sun glows. The grass glistens. The waves disturb.

Our earth like a model. Mother nature coddles. Every turn you take in need of a remodel. Every day is a battle in the perfect utopia. Kathryn Prout ‘25

Sophia Murnane ‘25

Shards of a Woman

If she is woman, she is confined, And only by men is she defined The set of rules that call out her name

Only listening to avoid further shame:

“Watch your tongue, don’t speak too loud.”

“Watch your tongue, you’re acting too proud.”

“Watch your tongue, stop crossing the line.”

“Woman should be satisfied just to be claimed ‘mine ’”

The expectations reaching too high

Like Mount Everest stretching upward in the Chinese sky

A tiny waist to contrast her thunder thighs

A man’s playland for his wandering eyes

Her gaze melts into the soul, But what have these eyes seen that is left untold?

Her mother beaten by her lover again

Her sister forsaken because she greeted the sidewalk after ten

Underestimated and undermined, left unsettled and utilized Underfed therefore underweight, a man’s words brutalized Broken to shards, like a piece of glass, she smiles with all her teeth To be worthy in his eyes, regardless of what lies underneath. Alexis Rainis ‘25

Beauty is what, but power and grace, A sword in hand, a flawless face?

It flaunts its treasure for all to see, And cannot lose or bend a knee.

Corrupting minds with fear and doubt, For Beauty lies from inside out.

Or does Beauty lurk in painful shadows

And force its master to the gallows?

A malformed face that’s doomed to hide

Does not reflect the truth inside.

Tranquility condemned by skin, For Beauty lies from outside in.

But what is more beautiful than I, The creature catching Beauty’s eye?

Delicate, peaceful, soft, and fair

To no one else can I compare.

The forest now rings with a deafening silence

The calm before a storm of violence.

But a scene so peaceful cannot last, This picture-perfect place is past.

A sword to pierce the toughest skin

And claws and teeth that tear within.

Hatred blooms from jealous stares

And Beauty’s blessing has no cares!

Bright red pools from gaping gashes

My orange wings rise from green ashes. Morphing from content to lust, Where once was Beauty, now is dust.

As true as when in past they say

Though pretty, “Nothing gold can stay.”

Beauty blinds and Beauty fades And Beauty wields her evil blades. I call out to the world below “Where is Beauty? Do you know? Books or covers; spirit or skin; Inside out or outside in?”

Nolyn Reilly ‘25

O serene Long Beach Island,

I wait in anticipation to spend these long summer days with you!

How can I bear them without your gracious presence?

From the time I entered the Earth, my soul gravitates towards you when warmth creeps in.

Around and around like a clock I dwell inside you, blossoming my youth.

Ah, sun, sun, sun!

The moment when you shine the most

The moment my family prepares to load our car as an offering to you

The moment we have finally craved as we pass your one and only bridge

The glass that once enclosed the car no longer present allowing your saltwater smell to penetrate my taste

Your warmth floods not only my body but my mind.

Old feelings of fuzziness gush back to me, Your beauty remains as I lay my eyes on a sight all too familiar. People upon people at every turn I make...

As I lay on your sand: seagulls squawk, children scream in laughter, and the ocean follows the chaos.

Life is truly alive!

It is time when your light subdues.

Your sun crawls into hibernation and the liveliness follows along suit, Yet this an opening for me.

I stay awake, alone wandering the beach, The constancy of your moon and stars laid out just for me

Frozen in time, I appreciate the little lights in the sky that tell endless stories.

Every sense on high alert

Each contact with a grain of sand igniting me

The never-ending noise of your now quiet waves

Calling out for my recognition to your darkened allure Your fumes invading my spirit into a meditative state

My tongue wanting to taste more of your charm.

O, my time is up!

What a pleasure it ‘twas! Now retreating from your fascination, I wonder how I can cope with a million years apart. A journey away that waits for us when the clock ticks again, You are my home away from home.

Aubrey Revak ‘25

The cards: displayed. The ends, like dead hair, now frayed. A sweet child of mine now rests, doesn’t breathe, Not a sound. I mustn’t look around.

Oh, I cannot fathom how he, my boy, could leave!

The little white lady, she waits in her dancing dress, Pawing, and I must confess

That the dirty, disguised dog is a coward! Loyalty, I beg of him,

“Don’t leave me and this sack of bones, soon to wear thin!” I wish the man by his side would speak, without his face painted and powdered.

He could have been a star, my star! Oh, he would have traveled so far.

If The Watchers had only watched my baby, If they had paid attention to him like they had their animals, maybe they could have stopped this sky from turning grey. And this man, sitting here, Watching me, why is he lazy?

Yet, the wise look away.

I know it’s chained, free to stay. With those talons he could pick, peel, And pluck at this now rotting flesh. It has the power to, yet it sits and shows restraint, mercy. Like the Woman in Blue’s son, who kept the world from its end, She wore a crown dissimilar to her son’s and was somehow forced to deal.

I’ve heard stories of this moment, a savior born to help the people. My star was born to entertain! Not at the church steeple, But in the red and white stripes of a tent!

Like the savior, a crown where he bleeds out.

Like the savior, as he died the crowd loudly shout.

Like the savior, his mother holds him, and she tells the World, The Watchers to repent.

My star, the tambourines shake for him,

The trumpets of all heavens play, they blast, but will soon wear my skull thin, That sound seeps into my brain. Yet he just sits, this old snake Watches like the rest. Perhaps he is He.

The one who takes, the one who plots and schemes Over my heart He has seen crack and break.

Dana Rietzke ‘25

The Race to Normality

Almost alone, unsure of what lies ahead

One companion, in the same place

Left only with what is on our backs

The world always so confusing, leaving us in one big race

Like a marathon with a never-ending course, When will my life be normal again?

So little, so naïve

So capable of learning more in life

Left to fend for ourselves, in the darkness of night

The fight for peace has begun, putting us in an unwanted strife. Scared of what will occur while left alone

When will my life be normal again?

Whoosh!

Everything flying by

Invading our one hope of peace

In awe, unaware of what lies in the sky

The door left open, allowing everything to seep in When will my life be normal again?

The door holds an immense level of power.

One touch, and everything could change.

The door can swallow everything that it encounters. Everything seems especially strange.

One pull and everything could go back to the way it was.

When will my life be normal again?

A world where gravity is comfortable, appreciated,

But gravity no longer exists Floating, longing to be back on my feet

The chance to be able to live a standard life again, forever missed.

Every rock, every morsel swimming towards me, in a surge of power

When will my life be normal again?

The eye of the storm

The focus of existence

The Earth full of so many possibilities

Longing for experienced assistance

More human interaction is wanted, needed.

Time goes by, and I no longer see normality in my future.

Alexis Roberts ‘25

What is it like to be a Woman?

Sit still Sit straight Don’t slump You can’t complain Men tie the strings attaching those things to your wrists, The puppeteers holding the ties to your brain, And you can’t complain Your control no longer exists

What in the world would women want?

Freedom, the opportunity to chose a life, a path, to live without asking permission?

To be considered equal to a man who haunts Their shadow looms above you, and you cower into submission.

Women forced to the constraints of their clothes, With metal wires trapping them in, imprisoned in their own skin, Always taught the right and proper way to pose, The world so concerned with our size, too wide or too thin

We want equality for the girls who mirror their mothers. We want equality for future, CEO’s, lawyers, and doctors. We want equality for the dreamers, the free spirits, the lovers. We want equality for all different characters.

We fought, with our words and actions, and held true through the strife to live in a world with a chance to choose our own lives.

So our daughters and granddaughters of generations to come Will be free to live outside from underneath our oppressors’ knives.

Francesca Rodgers ‘25

Peace Over Violence

Our world is filled with plenty of patient, passionate, peaceful people, Yet there continues to be constant acts of violence each day. Whether it takes 20 or 20,000 years, People will eventually seek peace, I confidently say.

My heart breaks for those who experience violence.

My heart breaks for those who experience cruelty.

My heart breaks for those who experience rejection. My heart lights up for those who experience affection.

Violence is like the wind howling at night, With some people trying to start a fight. It can be as silent as the trees

Or as loud as a hive filled with busy bees.

Some people are watching the waves crash onto shore, While many others are fighting in a war.

Some people are watching birds soar through the blue sky, While other people affected by violence begin to cry.

Violence is something you cannot undo. So why do people feel the need to pursue? Violence is not a good deed,

A world full of peace and love is what we need. Kathryn Romano ‘25

A Marble in a Starry Galaxy

The earth is our home. We take it for granted. It’s the place we roam. Each day, all day, we live the lives we planted.

Our earth is slowly dying. Most don’t know it. Some of us are trying. Bit by bit, soon they’ll quit.

God made this earth expecting us to respect her. There is no “rebirth.” This is our only chance to prove we are worthy of this home.

We can no longer say, “We have time,” or “Save this for another day.” Because there is no better time Than the present. The way we treat the earth is a crime.

The earth is beautiful. She speaks to us In gusts Of wind.

She cries in rain drops. And smiles in sun pops.

The earth is like a marble In a starry galaxy, But if you look closely, She is more conflicted than the eye can see.

Glow on, little light

Though the sea is so strong. Push on, past this plight. Be bold, golden sphere

You have labored this long. Journey’s End is now near.

Tell the tale, you who glow, Of your travel on the tide.

Tell me all that you know.

So far from your hometown With just a wave to ride, Share each up and each down.

Did you ever grow tired

Of the gray sea, the gray sky?

(A shade so uninspired.)

Did gray water, gray air

Cause you to wonder why Color is found nowhere?

How does this storm you face Compare to those before?

Is the thunder in this place No match for what you’ve seen?

Or is this violent like war

And prior weather, serene?

Have the paths you did follow On this odyssey taught

You not to feel hollow

Deep down in your soul?

Or have you found what you sought

And filled your innermost hole?

Storm of Light

Glow on, little ray. For soon you shall reach A bright new day. Glow on, safely ashore On a small peaceful beach. Glow on, forevermore.

Lauren Ryan ‘25

A World So Hurtful

Innocent eyes once roamed the land, Full of wonder, a child’s brand. But soon they saw the world’s cruel hand, A harsh reality they couldn’t withstand.

Taunts and jeers, insults and slurs, A constant barrage, like never-ending cures. The heart that once sang, now just purrs, The soul that once danced, now just stirs.

Loneliness crept in, like a deadly disease, A wall built up, like a fortress with ease.

The mind that once dreamed, now just flees, The spirit that once soared, now just pleas.

Years go by, but the pain remains, A wound that never heals, a life in chains. The future once bright, now just stains.

The hope that once shone, now just wanes.

Racism, the scourge that breaks a soul, A disease that spreads, never to console. Let us rise up, make it our goal.

To break the chains and make us whole.

Peace Is Spoken By The Soul.

As I walk through the halls, I hear the call for peace, A voice that rings inside me, a live being that breathed and moved within my body, Begging for all wars to cease.

The world is full of chaos, Where violence seems to stand still, But there are those who strive for peace, And work to break this never-ending chill.

Non-violence is their motto, Their faith, their way of life, And though they may be few in number, Their message cuts like a knife.

They seek to end all conflicts, And bring about an end to hate.

And though the road is long, they know how to stay strong. They refuse any arguments but rather concentrate.

So let our voices chime

In support of this great cause to shine. Let’s make the world a better place with no hate crimes, One peaceful step at a time.

Rory Saxon ‘25

A Mystical Forest Home

O brazen huntress! With a substantial duty to fulfill, Sitting quietly, sharp, and ready. With her homeland to protect, She holds her blade steady. With golden locks glistening in the morning sun, She senses a peaceful day awaiting already.

O beloved protector! With whom the forest relies on, Greeted by an unexpected guest. With yellow eyes as dense as smog, Piercing through the murky forest from the west, And thus emerges the spiky green beast, A friend who knows the huntress best.

O fearless warrior! Examining her quiet surroundings, Watching her familiar friend’s fond gaze. Its dense yellow eyes follow a quick winged creature, As it lands on her soft hand and stays.

And so, she watches this creature of her land, Admiring its complex beauty in all its ways.

O curious explorer! A reflection of the earth from which she came, Studying the birds who fly across her land, Noticing the freedom of their gentle flight. She wonders if there is anything they cannot withstand. How amazing they must feel with eternal freedom, When the grand world is within reach of their hand.

O fierce knight! Withholding greater knowledge than her own creator, Perpetually alone with her thoughts, For she has no regular company but her blade. And with all the protection and safety it brought, She has learned from her sword’s ways of wisdom, And with its wisdom, through only necessary death it fought.

O wise recluse! Sitting gracefully with friends, Eyes closing in on her dense forest home. The land whispers a familiar tune, Telling her she is not alone. Though everyone may seem so far, She has proven she can make it on her own.

Anna Schafer ‘25

Masks

Women are always masked. Women are constantly piled with work and tasks. In the night they shine bright.

In the day, freedom is what they lack, but women always see the light.

All the masks have different faces.

Not one of them the same, they are all running different races. Will this stop them from going places?

Or will this spark a fighting flame, ignite confidence in their faces?

Women are underestimated and treated cruelly

They are not ones to be messed with, and one day will rule. Women know how strong they are.

But that mindset for some men is rather far.

We have fought for our rights and gained what we want. We have gone on an equality hunt.

We have won the battle, but not the war.

We have equality, but we fight for more.

Women’s masks can be a cover of their strength, And the equality race is not a short length.

We can all receive this if we fight hard enough.

Women are strong and worthy, and we all know, even if this fight may be rough.

Sydney Seidel ‘25

Ode to Traveling

New York City, a place so diverse

For if one had the chance, they would never reverse. Reverse the moment, reverse the time, It would never be traded for a dime.

This is a place like no other, Where one can even go undercover.

Firenze, Italy, a place so warm, The people interacting in the most beautiful form

Everyone laughing with one another

A place just for a daughter and a mother

The sounds to be heard and sights to be seen

The feeling of comfort flows like a stream

Brazil, a place so loud

The revving of motorcycles and noise from the crowd

Ongoing chaos left and right

The pure silence throughout the night

A silence extremely still, a silence extremely strong Until the birds start singing their song

Doylestown, Pennsylvania, a place so subtle Like pieces fitting together in a puzzle

Walking down the street

Or getting something to eat

The locals make the town

What a great place to settle down

Sydney, Australia, a place so bright

Look everywhere, not a frown in sight

Tall trees and tasty tangerines

A new animal in the headline of the magazines

The sunshine never vanishes

The people don’t desire lavishes

This town of North Wales is a somber place

Aren’t hometowns supposed to be a home base?

This town is gray

From night-to-day.

This town will never fulfill my heart, So, traveling is where I start.

Melania Shea ‘25

The first step you take is utterly unfriendly

The splash reaches your waist.

The farther you go, the more greatly bizarre it gets.

The winter despondency becomes erased.

Feeling the sun caress your back,

The temperature rises high.

You look up to see an image,

When the sun reflects in your eyes.

Lying on the earthly bed

The darkness looking below

The little specks of bright white light

Clearly, the stars show.

A heavy chill flows through the air

Peaceful as our mother’s sneeze

The nip grazes against your skin. You feel our season’s breeze.

Nature is an alluring admiration. Our earth is grand and thrilling.

Anything to save our home, I am more than willing! Aurora Simmer ‘25

Plea Against Pollution

Marvelous, magical, majestic mother earth once known for plentiful resources she sends Humans took advantage of her kindness, waiting for future generations to mend.

We take all the metals, minerals, and coal and leave local ecosystems to suffer Earth gets depleted of resources and has barely any left to give. Trash wraps its hands around the surface of the earth We cannot stand for this in order to live.

Excessive greenhouse gas is a heavy blanket to air in Earth’s atmosphere, blocking the air so mother earth can barely breathe. Humans keep burning fossil fuels for more and more energy, leaving mother earth’s emotions to seethe.

Water pollution is like an infectious disease that spreads everywhere. Oil, plastic, and chemicals spill throughout our seas and ocean. Under these conditions marine life and plants get the worst punishment. Mother Earth hates to see all this commotion.

We must find a solution to this pollution. We must survive and we cannot without mother earth. We must create a more sustainable community. We must create a movement of rebirth.

Olivia Slamm ‘25

Nonviolence, a light throughout darkness

In a world that's filled with strife, Non-violence must be our guiding light. For wars and conflicts never solve The problems that we must evolve. Violence breeds more violence, An endless cycle with no end in sight. It tears apart communities, And shatters families in its might.

But non-violence is a different way, A path that leads to a brighter day. It's a choice to seek a peaceful end And to treat others as our friends.

Non-violence is a strength, not a weakness. It takes courage to choose not to be full of meekness, To seek justice with compassion, And to strive for peaceful action.

It means we value human life And recognize that we are alike, That no one deserves to suffer, And we must help each other.

So let us choose non-violence And make it our top priority. For only in peace can we truly thrive, And create a world where all can survive. Amelia Snyder ‘25

The Elephant in the Room

Orange fades into red as day fades into night.

Days pass, collecting like sand at the bottom of a glass, But time pauses as the brain slows to a stop.

The perfect center between the light and dark

An apprehensive, uncomfortable, lost state

With the Decision stiffly in the air, each option competing to be chosen

Rolling hills mirror the rotating, heedless mind.

Swirling with thoughts each hidden by a steely facade, The supposed strength and grace of these animals

Are annulled with a look at the wobbling legs

Knobby joints and cruel glare directed at its brother.

The Decision haunts their gaze, pervading each step with unease.

Nearing collapse with all the weight

Legs entangled, darkness seeping from their bodies

Haunted by their past mistakes not seen

Carried heavily on shoulders, with each fault attracting shadows

That follow every move, find every mind

The Decision feeding, idolizing mistakes to be driving forces of choice

Brought to different heights by leaning limbs

A supposed new perspective brings emotions to the brim. Each step feels heavy with weight, feet brushing

This barren void of life, land with no signs, Thoughts vying for release from this war inside the brain, The Decision leading the battles, causing the fights.

The deciding factor a mere centimeter away

Yet unattainable, as it stands is the middle of the wind One second from being blown to the west, Far from the grasp of wanting, needing hands

The shadows calculating the correct time to appear

Driven by the Decision, the deadline fast approaching

However an offering of peace between the people A mutual agreement of support and friendship

The need for a light in the dark finally recognized Together they wait in apprehension, In protection, in patience for the sound of the gong To alert that the Decision is made

The earth is warming, we can see. Our planet is crying out. It’s not a dream. The earth, our home, is heating up, A crisis that we must interrupt.

Earth is like a burning flame. Its burning core, a heated game. The forests burn. The animals flee. Our greed is the cause the world can see.

Her cries ignored, her fate unsure, A future hesitation, we must endure. The planet's voice, a mournful cry, As the earth sighs

The time is now to take a stand, To save our planet, hand and hand, To make a change and shift our ways, To reduce waste and end this phase.

The polar bears are losing their homes.

The world groans

We need to act now before it's too late Or face the consequences of our own fate. Mia Urie ‘25

Grace Tronoski ‘25

A once blue sky turned white, With dancing flakes appearing in the light, Floating, flying through the air, Each one unique and rare. Falling gently, landing effortlessly, growing as one Through the morning and into the night until taken by the sun.

The softened powder puddles, pools, and blends, Trapped and confined, it seems to no end. Until she sinks and deepens into the earth, The melted snow fuels life and new birth.

A single stream goes astray, wanting more, finding a way. She fights and pries, forges the growth, lashing out, a hidden display.

All at once, stolen by the mouth of a beast, Being pushed and pulled, torn, and ripped, but not scared in the least. An endless whisper bounces off the rocks,

The once small stream is no longer imprisoned in a tiny box.

Stretching and winding through grove and tree, She is now abundant and free.

Suddenly, the earth drops from below, And she is plunging, tumbling with the flow. Falling for an eternity before submerging, She twirls through a peaceful whirlpool until diverging. Relieved to be home in a familiar steady stream, She resumes her journey for months, nay years, living her dream.

Snaking and slithering, she continues in bliss, When all of a sudden, the river opens into a salty abyss. With no burden of a current, she cannot be restrained, So, she wanders and roams, unrestricted and unchained. She glides through the waves, the tide, the never-ending sea, Soaring, exploring, she can choose whatever she wants to be.

Bountiful, plentiful, beautiful, and strong, God’s canvas is where this brilliant blue paint belongs. Vicious, yet gentle; silent, yet roaring, An unpredictable, magnificent masterpiece meant for adoring. A home to some, present in all - even in the ones who fought her. She sustains our lives, we are children of the water.

Claire VanMater ‘25

A never quiet home now barely there to see. A never silent yard now barely there for me. A never empty couch echoes what used to be, phantom scents of cookies, former catalysts of glee. Only remaining now are these nostalgic ghosts which I beg to set me free. Although it was once my happy place, clearly this house is not what it used to be.

The kitchen, now cobwebbed and dusty, once my center of stability. Here these granite countertops witnessed me gain and my grandmother lose her mobility. Memories of graduations and birthdays are the source of the room’s tranquility. As I wish seeing these memories again and again were within my ability, I beg my mind for just the slightest chance of stability. So, here I stand now wishing the house could give me back my tranquility.

This house, once a center of activity, is now a place where my memories hold me in captivity. Here her room is, a room I wish I could lay in for infinity. Much like when I was an infant, her doorpost watches over me, surveying the vicinity.

I thought we would be frozen here for a century, but the reality is I was not and nor was she, my memories are now a treasury.

I’ve learned time is my enemy, a deep void I have fallen into for which there is no remedy. My grandmother sits at the gates with Peter, but I still wish we’d both had the energy just for the time to toss a ball in the yard, just for the time to make one more memory. Instead, my conscience is my penalty, forcing me to face my regret is its specialty.

My newfound guilt prevents me from feeling zest. And though I know you’re finally at rest, your house now makes me feel like nothing but a guest.

Am I someone that you now detest?

Am I someone that you wish to dispossess?

My regret is here for the long haul, rendering me here, forever a guest.

For now, though, I will sink into the once comforting armchair and attempt to recall, here is where took my first fall, and here my grandmother ceased to be at all.

A reminder of what is to come is served from a ash-filled fireplace that captures my enthrall.

Returning to ash was never her worry, my grandmother never worried about death at all. But I stare into the wall, thinking maybe she nor this house does not want to answer my calls.

My grandmother is now free, yet her spirit will remain in these walls. Lucia Weid ‘25

Why Does the Earth Float?

Why does the Earth float? Could it be the skies and trees? Or maybe just like a simple breeze? Plenty of people live here on Earth Does that subtract everyone’s worth?

Maybe the Sky is filled with clouds, Just like earth is filled with crowds Pollution is a harmful thing, So let's come together to make the world sing.

Orange dims the bright sky, As the sun lowers and starts to sigh Is your everyday filled with joy, As we explore the world on our very own convoy?

We the people may decide To save the earth or let it die.

Although the sun still shows bright, Pollution may dim that light

Eventually, the sun will fade away, And Darkness will sieze the day. As everyone begins to sleep, The earth will always be there to keep. Paige Wenhold ‘25

An Indecisive Mind

A jungle of a mind

Definitely one of a kind

"Just make a decision."

But there's so much fission

Tilted on what is right or wrong

Cannot fathom what to prolong

A town of thoughts that applause

When seeing the decision was for a good cause

Admiring the bright, beautiful blue skies and seeing the light

Wow! So much delight

Why was there a doubt?

Who knows what that was about?

However, there is darkness at the end,

Showing the bad decisions one does not like to befriend

However, the colorful town is saying it will work out

Showing why there is always doubt.

However, all these houses are decisions

Showing the way one's actions cause division.

Seeing clouds gives much peace.

It makes one forget the decisions that do not cause ease. Going back to nature makes one feel free from despair. The trees and rivers are like fresh air.

Fluffy clouds flow fast like a river across the sky, Trying to spy all the shapes and images that apply.

Ready to make a decision, eyes are closed and focused, Feeling like one of the three witches from Hocus Pocus.

Deciding for the best

But will my spell pass the test?

The colorful town tells us it will work out, But there is always doubt,

One big castle at the top of everyone's mind that converts thoughts to results

Trying to find a reason to pursue every envision

All can be great visions, But some have dispositions. Bad envisions are tempting to a young mind

However, remember, young minds are always one of a kind

Sophie Wenz ‘25

Plight of the Earth

The sound of water, a running stream

The warmth of a sun ray, a glistening beam

The rustling leaves of wind through the trees

The high-pitched buzzing of sweet honeybees

As I walk, the crunch of plastic litter sticks, Up the dirt blows as it responds to the wind’s kicks.

What can one do in a world meant to be bright

But try to cure the illness of mother nature's plight?

One can feel the deep breaths of mother nature no longer

She tries to breathe oxygen, but the pollution is stronger.

The polluted atmosphere is a fist, suffocating the earth

Its fingers clenched tightly around her girth.

The seven deep oceans that used to be blue Are now filled with litter and a murky hue.

People are pumping petrol and pouring plastic by the pound; Vehicle emissions are causing greenhouse gases all around.

We need to save the earth by picking up one piece of trash at a time Because doing nothing to help is an even bigger crime. Over time the globe is becoming as hot as the sun.

We cannot let this happen. So, what will be done?

Meredith Williamson ‘25

Eden at Giverny

Heaven on Earth,

Where one may happily grow old and weary. We dance in the warmth of new birth, Barefoot through the night we run, Anticipating the venomous bite of the serpent. One race, maidenly untouched hitherto. Poisoned for eternity.

It is easy to lose to the plush purple, I succumb without a fight to its majesty. Growth delights my senses beyond imagination.

The soft earth beneath my feet, It has just rained hasn’t it?

Underneath the rocks and stones the water is Flowing, Flowing, Flowing!

Windows of hope excite ideas, Possibilities of something more real.

Something different to feel,

Such as the sun-soaked joy of mornings in all seasons, Or the morbidly gray afternoons full of thunder and darkness. Who decides our lows and highs?

The pathway has been beaten year after year, Spring after Spring,

Perpetually I do not feel a thing.

Every time I open the doors here, An intoxicating circus of greens and purples clouds my eyes. The rain falls hard, without notice of its start.

She frolics in the meadow,

Towards knowledge and truth.

Away from all painful anxieties in the basement. Joy and love, banished from the basement.

The garden is steady,

The garden is ready.

You’ve known this whole time haven’t You?

Hope erodes each time I read that this could have been different. We could have been saved, The illusion of the garden haunts me.

But who is to say the venom wouldn’t have stung some other way? Him?

Charliotte Wolfe ‘25

The Frightening Roars of Nature

A deafening scream passes through my ears.

My mind begins to race.

I stand here alone with all my fears.

I am like a little kid with this expression on my face.

The anxiety takes over and stabs like a million spears.

I need to get out of this place!

I cannot seem to stop the panic.

I have no idea what has gone wrong.

Maybe my mind is going madly manic.

I want to settle down and be strong.

I slowly lose strength until I am adynamic. This panic is lasting way too long!

The sky is blood red and twisting with terror.

The scream continues to overtake me.

The sky is unlike ever before, a great scarer.

The eruption is a warning sign to flee.

The sky continues to warp without error.

I look down and start to spot the debris.

I am Oizys drowning in anxiety.

Does nobody hear me yelping?

I am ignored and alone in this society.

Why does everybody choose to walk by without helping?

Even my own friends pass by me, gaining notoriety.

I feel as if I am getting punished with a skelping.

My thoughts begin to scramble and pick up pace.

Nobody seems to understand how I feel.

Oh, how I wish I could stop and retrace.

Why are they all acting like this situation is not a huge deal?

My only reaction is to stay still and suffer in place.

The scream is a mouse, a never-ending squeal.

I am so overwhelmed that I do not want to live anymore! When it rains, it pours.

It is so bad that I am screaming down to my core.

There is no longer a way to heal from these sores.

I have never had this feeling before.

Goodbye, I am tired of losing these internal wars. Hailey Wood ‘25

An Ode to Jersey Shore Summers

Every summer since I can remember, I have spent it down the shore The moment I reach the sandy beach, my worries exist no more. As I get older, and the years get harder, I await the moment when I can spend my days with my friends and see the sun again. And when the long, warm days grow inevitably short and cold, I know that I’ll always have these memories and fun stories to be told.

The beach, the waves, the bike rides, how I cannot wait!

Especially for the hot summer nights when we stay up far too late. On days where my friends and I ride carelessly through the streets, We think of the hard winter days when these moments seemed way out of reach. And at the beach it is different, though others may not see, Just how summer spent down the Jersey shore means so much to me.

My favorite thing about the beach are the waves that roll and crash Along the shoreline where my friends would play and scream and thrash. The way the waves dance and sparkle, like diamonds or twinkling lights, No one could understand how they made me feel, the excitement they would incite. I loved the shore, the beach, the waves while some may only say “it’s fine,” Because I realized how fleeting these moments were, these summers; we are running out of time.

Laying freely in the sun, all my anxiety and troubles become no more; I can’t imagine what my life would be without my Jersey shore. The sunlight and warm breeze lift my soul, the summertime has saved me, So when I’m sad, and need some quiet, I walk along by the sea. I’ll hope that this summer will feel longer than the last.

Maybe if I try hard enough, I can freeze time and it won’t go by so fast.

When I ride my bike along streets and alleyways, I look around at this town That becomes silent and devoid of life as soon as the leaves turn brown. The houses, stores, and restaurants seem to smile at me as I pass by It is as if they are happy because they know that it is July.

Because when the summer is over, and everyone else goes home, These houses and shops will sit on the street, quiet and alone.

The summer nights that felt so long,

When we were alive and free, so sure and so strong

I know that I will miss this so

When the vibrant, green grass and leaves start to go. When the flowing, dancing breeze turns cold, I will remember this Jersey summer; I will not leave these stories untold.

Audrey Young ‘25

Daedalus

I, gifted with the intelligence of my lady Athena, The workmanship with the great lord Hephaestus, And the vision of the titan Prometheus.

I work the very stranded and labored Hands gifted to me, for they bring My mind into life and my gifts to Glory.

And once, when Nyx’s kingdom soars and glides past the creator my hand is taken from work and is held by another, My young boy, my little dove.

Before long, I see a king’s hand before my own, Now in command, whereas my mind stays back and Bides it’s time to create instead of rot.

I put my inner-workings of my mind Onto the island of Crete and the prison of A monster in which so I helped create. The king’s hand is now coming down, Towards not my mind but my body.

I, trapped in bars of iron think of The fool, on the thrown Shackles, on my hands But my mind as free as ever.

My little dove, His mind as free as his namesake, He influences my freedom and means of escape.

Before long, we soar. We soar through the land of Poseidon and The terrain of Lord Zeus.

We soar.

Then comes my dove. He challenges the Gods above. Through mother’s earth lover And up towards the kingdom of Helios He goes. He flies, and Dives too close.

He’s falling. My dove is falling.

I, cursed with the madness of Dionysus And the hands of a mad lord, stare upon A crow.

He has come into my home And claimed to be my little dove. He is an imposter and imitator. A true crow.

He wishes to be a dove? He wishes to fly? I merely allow him to.

He is not my dove, my dove never screamed And cawed when he was falling. He soared.

6 Lost Pounds: If Found, Keep Them

I’ve lost 6 pounds. Could you help me find them?

I swear I just had them. They were right there a second ago. But now they’re nowhere to be seen.

It’s not like I miss them or anything, They’d just be nice to have In case I ever need them.

But I better find them quick, ‘Cause people are noticing they’re gone.

I’m losing my reputation. They were only 6 pounds, How was I irresponsible enough to lose them?

WINNER OF OCTOBER CREATIVE WRITING CONTEST

THEME: HORROR

WINNER: Lilly Myers ‘24

Good Boys and Girls Always Smile

“I was trying to be a g-,” were Timmy’s last words the night that the 6-year-old boy, disappeared. Timmy was always trying to be a good boy, and he always smiled. He knew if he didn’t smile something terrible would happen to him. It’s almost like he felt a presence lurking him every time his smile faltered. It was a bitter, bland morning, in California after that previous night. Police and search dogs were out all night, looking for him and missing posters for Timmy were everywhere. Charley and Dani, his parents, were sitting at their kitchen table watching the news, with exhausted eyes and grimaces brandishing their faces. They had no memory from last night and were worried about their kid. All they vaguely remember is that they were smiling when looking at each other, then claimed everything went dark after that. When they left there was a sign on their door that they don’t remember putting there. It read: Always smile. Charley and Dani got in the car confused and headed downtown.

When they arrived, they were being interviewed by persistent reporters asking questions such as, “How do you feel about losing your child,” and “Do you think he is dead?”

The parents gave halfhearted responses, and they had circles under their bloodshot eyes. “Do you think he’s dead Charley?” said Dani. Charley gave a gloomy look and began to get into his car to escape the reporters. Dani ran in a café, bought a coffee, and followed Charley into the car. They drove home only to be awaited by their cat pacing the door. Something was wrong, so they let the cat in immediately only for her to throw up everywhere. Except, something glossy caught Charley’s eye. He picked it up and it was a memory card from a camera. Curiosity sparked so they inserted it into the camera in their son’s room. Staticky noise comes blaring from the camera, and only then do they hear their voices:

“Timmy son, we know you’re in there come out please Timmy we aren’t mad we just want to see you.” Bam, Bam, Bam- the sound of a gunshot is heard hitting the door, and they hear Timmy say these words, “No, please no mommy. Don’t let Daddy do this. Help me, please.” The camera flashed to the dad pealing Timmy’s skin off with a knife, the mom now recording all of this. “Honey, want to help me show Timmy why he shouldn’t be a bad boy in school,” said Charley. “Just kill him, Charley, the boy was a brat anyway,” said Dani. The camera zooms into Timmy and you can see the little boy has no skin left whispering,

“I was trying to be a good boy mommy,” Charley then rips Timmy’s teeth out but there’s a flash of black, and Timmy almost looks possessed. Immediately then everything goes silent except a faint cat meow, and the footage immediately goes black.

Charley and Dani look at each other, fearing what they just watched. Then slowly an eerie smile comes across Charley’s face, and he says, “Our son deserved it, oh what it felt like to feel his burning hot bloody skin in my hands.” Dani looks over frightened but then she too slowly forms a smile across her face saying, “Oh Lord of Smiles, we have served our purpose, we collected you the smile of our son, now give us our gift.” Lightning strikes and then the parents drop dead. The door creeps open and Timmy walks in skinless removing the mouth from his mom and inserting it into himself. He smiles saying, “Mommy and Daddy haven’t been good now have they.”

Mission Statement

Rooted in the Catholic faith and charism of Mercy, Gwynedd Mercy Academy High School educates, inspires, and empowers young women to be merciful in spirit, innovative in thought, and courageous in leadership