B A Y P O R T L I T E R A R Y M A G A Z I N E
FROM THE EDITORS
Dear Readers,
The XII edition of The Vessel Literary Magazine was created by the Literary Magazine Editors. We are ecstatic to feature the amazing artists of Bay Port High School and their hard work put in throughout the year.
Please enjoy this Edition of The Vessel
Sincerely,
Paige Drossart, Editor
Addison Fenlon, Editor
Cora Thomson, Editor
Ella Vanden Hoogen, Editor
Shoes - Reese Leonhard 6 Snow Angels - Ella Artel 7 Old Friends - Ella Artel 8 Petals - Macy Daanen 9 Will it Die By My Hands- Emma DuBois
Searching - Reese Leonhard
Hair - Reese Leonhard
Sweet Tooth - Margaux Brown
Man's Best Friend - Travis Carrol
Responsibility - Travis Carrol 15 I don't know why I bite - Evelyn Mariscal-Guzman
Purple Hues - Evelyn Mariscal-Guzman
Saying Goodbye - Evelyn Mariscal-Guzman
Sour Secrets - Grace Decker 19 Candied Memories - Grace Decker
What’s Inside - Grace Decker
Snow
Angels Ella Artel
Old Friends
Ella Artel
Petals
Macy Daanen
Will It Die By My Hands
Emma DuBois
Searching Reese Leonhard
Hair Reese Leonhard
Sweet Tooth
Margaux Brown
Man's Best Friend Travis Carrol
Responsibility
I Don't Know Why I Bite
Evelyn Mariscal-Guzman
Purple Hues
Evelyn Mariscal-Guzman
Saying Good-bye
Evelyn Mariscal-Guzman
Sour Secrets
Candied Memories Grace Decker
What’s Inside Grace
ork ” is age age ’s ured a way elings ds; fail
24 California Wildlife - Charlotte Myers
25 Hues Of the Summer Sky - Allison Kramer
26 American Airlines 777-300 - Lawton Neuenfeldt
27 C-5M Super Galaxy - Lawton Neuenfeldt
28 Sky West CRJ900 - Lawton Neuenfeldt
29 F-22 Raptor - Landon Piette
30 St. Croix Gecko - Landon Piette
31 Play On - Cora Thompson
32 Wildlife Photography - Adrian Roberts
33 Wildlife Photography - Adrian Roberts
34 Wildlife Photography - Adrian Roberts
35 Sturgeon Bay Shores - Victoria Bohn
36 The Mail Train - Logan Schaut
California Wildlife
Allison Kramer Hues of the Summer Sky
Lawton Neuenfeldt
C-5M Super Galaxy
Lawton Neuenfeldt
Sky West CRJ900
Lawton Neuenfeldt
F-22 Raptor
Landon Piette
St. Croix Gecko
Landon Piette
Cora Thompson Play On
Wildlife photography
Adrian Roberts
Wildlife photography
Adrian Roberts
Wildlife photography
Adrian Roberts
Sturgeon Bay Shores
Victoria Bohn
The Mail Train
Logan Schaut
Logan Schaut
Logan’s photograph
“The Mail Train” was taken at the National Railroad Museum in Ashwaubenon. The train was just freshly restored when the photo was taken.
“I remember when I was little, it was all rusty and broken down, it meant a
lot to see it actually looking nice,” Logan said.
When not taking photos, Logan enjoys spending his free time hanging out with his friends, playing with his dogs, or chilling at home.
Why Photography?
“It's just another way that I can express myself and express my interests to others if they wish to see my photography.”
Logan’s photography
“The Mail Train” is featured on page 36
40 Beyond Paper - Ellie Virlee
41 It’ll Always Be You #1 - Daniella Paluda
42 Colors - Ziva Goldman
44 Up The River - Andrew Vandersteen
46 Rocket of Babble - Andrew Vandersteen
48 Up The Road III - Andrew Vandersteen
50 I Believe In Being Extra - Bobbie Seichter
52 Pinky Promises - Lillian Thyne
54 I am - Victoria Bohn
55 Falling - Clara Goen
56 The Last Fourteen Days - Emilea Thibodeau
Beyond Paper
Ellie Virlee
Before the ink runs dry, I am rugged, opaque.
I occupy acres, Holding space Without the presence Of shame.
Vicariously me, No percentage may Encapsulate my potential.
But the paper, The paper is hungry, Vast, Infinite.
I become a thin film, stretched Sketched. Etched in my skin Are the presumptions Of what I must become.
Beyond Paper, I Am the roughest draft. Stilted, Preliminary. Engorged in my cocoon Of instinctive comfortability.
When will I eclose?
It'll Always Be You #1
Daniella Paluda
Staring at pages
Filled with memories of a Boy that she once loved.
She does still love you, But she just can’t figure out Who you have become.
She’s written over Your name, she’s scribbled it out, Yet it’s clear as day.
She has lost her boy. The one she loved, and yet, still, He won’t go away.
Colors Ziva Goldman
Hearts and diamonds in a deck of cards
The main color that’s in the aftermath of a fight
The color that’s inside us all not by choice, but by evolution
The one that people say is love, when really it’s not.
Or maybe it’s the color of sunsets
Of flames so high they illuminate everything in their path
The color that’s one of the most rare to find on cars
The thing that people can’t decide whether it’s the color or the fruit.
It’s the color most common for highlighters
The color of annoying dandelions that show up in summer
The sour sweetness of lemonade
The default color of the sun when we were once kids.
It’s the color of the grass that we will always see
The color associated with sickness
The one that’s vibrant on common trees
Along the stems of most flowers.
Or it’s the color of water
The bright sky on a clear day
The color associated with sadness, crying anyway
With the type of music that was popular in 1920.
Or maybe it’s a galaxy far far away
Hidden in fields of lavender
Or vines covered in grapes
Or the defected streetlights that show themselves through time and decay.
It’s the background color in the northern lights
Common in flowers like tulips and stargazers
The second viral color of Valentine's Day
The signal of healing or rebirth.
It’s the color of dirt, a symbol of life
The color of most tree bark
Prominent on animals
And the color of hot chocolate.
It could be the color of frost on a cold winter day
The color of the stars we see from down here
The viral color of paper
The background color of most films.
It’s the color of most jewelry
The one used for machines
Commonly found in computers
One you can find in pretty much anything.
But I really think it’s the color of outlines
The color of the void, of endless space
The color people say midnight is
The color that brings comfort to the unknown.
It’s the colors of the rainbow that tell what anyone or anything is
It just takes eye to eye to see
What’s real
And what isn’t.
Up the River III Andrew Vandersteen
The night is sweet as the river calls
Board the vessels towards the falls
Follow the call and come to see If it's the future we want it to be
The thunderous black ripples ahead
Show us what we need to dread Don't turn back don't look back
We must continue on our track
The rolling rocks and dark rain
Come at us with marked disdain
The first vessel up ahead tried to steer
But under the water he disappeared
And one by one the travelers entered Their confident lives centered
Ahead in the rapids they met an unknown force They try to hold out against the river’s course
It's my turn. I can see the track. Maybe I can hold myself against the attack
The rapids whirl and whip ahead
Oh the apologies I never said
And suddenly I'm sucked in. A hard rock sets me in a spin I crashed between rocks trying to maintain control
But i follow my friends into that deep black hole
Im sucked violently down into the river
But suddenly the dark bottom became shining silver
Down is now up and my kayak had left me completely
And a compelling voice called from up ahead sweetly
So I turned up the roaring drive. And wondered if i was still alive
Moving slowly ahead i took a stroke
And then the white water broke
Swimming faster up the wash
Faster and faster oh gosh
And suddenly i soar up into the sky blinding white
Through the clouds and what a sight
Higher up i find a perch
This place seems as some sort of church
But then i realized im somewhere new
Ahead figures appear, I don't wonder who
And then i am surrounded I grew nervous as the head figure expounded
Being there i heard a list of my sins
The figure i could see had only begin
And then the great voice asked my earthly situation
And why I deserved a heavenly reservation
Rocket of babbel
Andrew Vandersteen
Board the rocket if you can
On this vacation you won't get a tan
But everyone must go there eventually Or disappear into the deep deep valley
Tip the assistant and climb the ladder
Get your moneys worth it will make you gladder
This rockets not going to space
But up to the great heaven’s face
So give us the money you owe And you'll see the eternal show For bringing you to heaven by men’s might To us that is our delight
When the hatch closes and the bolts are in
No one aboard remembers their sin
Now there all going to ascend And heavens feast to pretend
The rocket lifted off and broke the false thought And all knew they now wouldn't get what they sought
Because up there there's more than air
You cannot receive what is not for you fair
High up in space the rocket fell silent
At the sight of eternity it all turned violent Down from the heavens they were cast Screaming through the atmosphere’s blast
The angry fire engulfed the travelers lost
For all that its worth they got what it cost
From a view down on terra firma home
Down flashed the comet made of chrome
But as the ones gone neared the land
A hole opened up in the beach sand
The capsule of the unfortunate people flashed through Their integrity was broken it would not renew
The hole closed then disappear
The family on earth started to fear
What was that hole
That wasn't their goal
There's now a sale on the extra seats
Yes ma’am here's your receipt
We've doubled the space
Come and see God’s face
The families dug around the site
Find their family or see if they might
But as they worked something was wrong
That sound was another rockets song
Watch out for those who sell artificial grace
Know what's up whatever the case
Don't let any person fall for that lie
Or else their soul would rather die
Up the Road III
Andrew Vandersteen
The hazy road winds on ahead
Filling the dead travelers with dread
The bus’s headlights cut through the night
All passions and furies ignite
The bus full of travelers and differences said
The debate is concerning the road ahead
Does it continue to eternity’s height?
And require choices that are right?
Or does the road loop around?
In a loop of life and death bound?
Every life work for the best
And once perfect escape the test
Or there lies darkness and eternal black
And everything is lost in fortune’s stack
It is the plain black that lies ahead
And death we will forever dread
Possibly it is a great filter the good to the overpass
And the bad to the underground fiery mass
Segregated by the qualities of deed
Like the ones who helped those in need
Some even say there is no one left unfed
It is the happiest land and someone once said
Every lost traveller will reunite
And living there be forever alright
To be stuck in the tomb with no waking light
Until called out for the judgment’s great fight
But if found good and true
Brought to existence bliss and blue
Some old thinkers entered and said
That all on earth has too much to dread
For no one alive has done enough deeds right
So all will go down to their eternal plight
To be sent to a place of cleaning until flawless
And then to the happiest place to progress
But what if found too unclean
Go to be lost in a land not unforeseen
Does the road lead home and true
Or to a place that no one wants to do
The bus traveled away solemnly
The departing figures now silently
What will soon be known to the travelers departing
They are going—where—no one alive is knowing So the debate continues all night
Until us ourselves leave on our flight
I believe in being extra
Bobbi Seichter
I believe in being extra. The little sprinkled on details which decorate your days, making your weekends more vibrant, and making yours a life well lived. In my opinion, to trudge through life without all the frilly, extravagant, needless details is like bread without butter, or pasta without sauce. The Oxford dictionary definition for the Latin word extra is “to a greater extent than usual”.
To me, extra means going out to try a different $8 coffee with my friends every Sunday. It's never really been about the coffee itself. I could just as easily make my own latte at home for a fraction of the price. But in saving that $8, I would be missing out on so much more than just a drink. I would miss out on the confidence that comes with going out dressed in the perfect outfit that I spent hours matching to my shoes, purse, and lip gloss. I would miss out on the perfectly chilled mason jar that the decadent drink is served in and the hundreds of pictures I take to document the beautifully presented beverage. I would miss out on the two hours of mindless chatter and gossip with my friends while we sip our coffee in the dimly lit lounges.
The beautiful laughter-filled memories that derive from these coffee dates are something that I wouldn't trade for the whole world. I will always choose to buy the latte. Extra means pulling over on the side of the road to pick pink and yellow tulips for your mom because you know they are her favorite. It means writing your best friend a random letter on all the things you love about them just for the sake of brightening their day. When you take the time to do a random act of kindness for someone else, completely unprovoked, it makes this tarnished earth just a little bit brighter. By going the extra mile, you slowly subtract from the duller parts of life and make them vibrant. Take the time to slow down your busy schedule. So many of our days are filled to the brim with practices and appointments. I firmly advocate that the terms lollygagging and dawdling are the absolute best verbs in the entire English language. These terms are most often used to depict laziness or wasting time, but I think that they describe the best aspects of life. The time you take to stop and smell the roses. Taking a walk around the block at a near-crawling pace just to really appreciate the beauty of the summer greenery. Listening to nothing but the monotonous dripping of the morning dew from the leaves. Noticing the direction of the wind, the position of the sun, and the shapes of the clouds. Life has a tendency to fly by. Take the extra second to sing, dance, and dawdle your way through it, never forgetting to add the cherry on top of every moment. I believe in being extra.
Lillian Thyne Pinky Promesis
We sat beneath the willow tree, where shadows used to play,
You took my hand and whispered things I thought would always stay
Our pinkies locked like iron rings, a pact of blood and bone
But seasons bled to winter frost, and words began to fray
The strength of what we promised then just simply slipped away
Oh, the crooked little finger is a fragile place to rest,
The weight of all the secrets that we carried in our chest
You swore upon the rising moon, a debt you’d never pay
Now I’m holding onto nothing while you’re miles and miles away
A shattered vow is silent, but it echoes in the dark
Leaving nothing but the pressure where your skin once left its mark
I see you in the crowded streets, or in a sudden dream
You said "forever" as if it was true
But promises are clearly heavy things for you
While you traded in our love for a simple life
I’ll still remember how you looked at me that night
Oh, the crooked little finger is a fragile place to rest , The weight of all the secrets that we carried in our chest
You swore upon the rising moon, a debt you’d never pay
Now I’m holding onto nothing while you’re miles and miles away
A shattered vow is silent , but it echoes in the dark
Leaving nothing but the pressure where your skin once left its mark
It ’s the smallest kind of treason, the breaking of a sign
To untie every knot we made and leave me with the twine
I still look down at my right hand and feel the ghost of you
The phantom of a simple word that never did come true
So go ahead and walk the path, forget the way we swore I’ll uncurl my shaking hand and lock the heavy door
Just a pinky promise broken, just a little bit of trust
Turned from silver in the sunlight into bitter, biting dust
Victoria Bohn I am
I am the shade of blue I painted my bathroom with. I go down stairs every morning to see this melancholy shade of blue as it swallows my winter sadness. It's a reminder of the moments I share with my grandpa eager to finish the rest of the basement with him. This blue is the whole reason I have a passion, a purpose. So many trips to Manerders with him to pick the perfect color. This color engulfs my pain of seeking for what is not fit.
Falling Clara Goen
Pounding
Heart beats Faster Faster
The ghosts around me move in formation.
Motions fluid–
Uniform without Effort.
Hands sticky against the tiles – pounding Faster Faster Faster –They dislocate. I cling to the fragments
But I’m
Fallingfallingfalling! THUD.
Bathroom tiles: cold. Back Against cabinets; Ghosts fade: Opaque again. My heart? Thuds.
To the rhyme of their footsteps
The Last Fourteen Days Emilea
Thibodeau
I remember dreaming of the day my sister would move out and leave me behind
A lifelong need to be apart
The day she told me “I want to leave” was the day my life had hope
But now from 42 days to åa final two weeks I can’t help but think my wish was wrong Because on the last day, I wished for her to stay
Why Writing?
“I’m a fan of the actual writing style behind it, I think the structure and the actual words used in it resonate with me.”
Poam
Emilea’s writing “The Last Fourteen Days” is featured on page 56
Emilea’s writing piece “The Last Fourteen Days” was created about her sister, who originally had 42 days before she had to move out, but then her moving date was bumped up to 14 days left.
“It was a very big change because I had shared a room with her for the first 14 years of my life and suddenly she was gonna be out of the house in less than two weeks,” Emilea said.
Outside of writing, she spends her time doing more writing and reading.
60 Bo Burnham - Cheyanne Kerver
61 Chicago, The Windy City - Breelyn
Birtues
Bo Burnham Cheyanne Kerver
Chicago, the Windy City Breelyn Virtues
Her piece “Chicago, the Windy City” was originally for a graphic print design assignment, but became more than a project, it was a way for her to share her appreciation for a place she enjoys.
“There are so many activities to do, and I have an aunt that lives there that I'm very close to, it's somewhere that I like to go,” Breelyn said.
Why Digital Art?
“I choose digital art because of the effciency, ability to challenge myself and pursue hard computer challenges.”
Outside of creating digital art, she spends her time hanging out with friends, creating more art, and baking.
Breelyn’s work “Chicago, the Windy City” is featured on page 61
ABOUT THE BOOK
Cover Production
The cover art was made by Reese Leonhard. The goal for this year’s Literary Magazine was to reflect the 2026 yearbook theme, Nostalgia, by incorporating a retro theme to the Literary Magazine.
The Vessel was produced by the Literary Coordinators at Bay Port High School, located in Green Bay, Wisconsin. Layouts were designed in Canva and imported to issuu.
Typography
Headings are set in Aileron sizes 42-122. Body copies are set in Canva Sans sizes 21-26. Names and tittle’s of work are set in TT Drugs sizes 30-61.
Photos
The authors provided all photos featured in The Vessel. As named on each page. All Table of content photos are provided by the editors of Literary Magazine.
Colors Editors
All colors used in the magazine are organized by media: art #f83935 and #ed6335, photography #ffbd59 and #00bd84, writing #00aeef and #9440dd, and digital art #ff7df2 and #974826 with accent colors #ffe7c2 and #3c3333.
Paige Drossart, Addison Fenlon, Cora Thomson, and Ella Vanden Hoogen Yearbook Publications Adviser: Vicki Quinn and Amanda Van De Yacht.