Editorial Staff
Editor in Chief
Alyse Odinet ‘25
Art Editors
Caroline Isgar ‘25
Nathan Schlarb ‘25
Poetry Editors
Elinor Adams ‘25
Ava Stine ‘25
Teacher Moderators
Mrs. Maureen Treadway
Notre Dame Prep Literary Magazine 2024-2025
Notre Dame Preparatory High School 9701 E Bell Rd Scottsdale, AZ 85260 (480) 634-8200 Vision Perspective shines light on the artistic and poetic talents of Notre Dame students and strives to unify the school community through creativity.
Table of Contents
Visual
Lily Bryan
Tyler Schlarb
Aubrey Kremer
Sophia Church
Betsy Brown
Caroline Isgar
Penny Ponterio
Graysen Torczon
Chloe Handel
Kaleigh Sanders
Kaleigh Sanders
Diego Gomez
Jack Stacey
Josh Hammond
Mia Brooks
Brooke Davis
Krissy Goodwin
Sofia Pastrana
Diego Gomez
Katie Pezzuto
Diego Gomez
Jamo Cox
Ocean View
Buck in the Sky
Rogue
French Cafe
Desert Landscape
Breakfish
Jesus Christ
Bridge Over a Pond of Water
Lillies
Bond, James Bond
Glance of Light
Living in a Submarine
Canyon
Bizzare World
George Bailey Hammond
He Is Risen
Table of Contents
Perspective
Ocean View
Lily Bryan ‘28
Sibling Tides
Casey Byrne ‘27
We’ve always been like waves pushing, pulling, never quite still. I remember you at ten, pushing your limits with a smile I couldn’t read. We fought like we’d never stop the way the ocean never stays calm, crashing against the shore, but always, always coming back. Now, you ’ re taller than I ever imagined and quieter in a way that feels like change. I still see the way you laugh, the sound that rolls in like thunder, and the way you always knew when I needed a quiet place to sit beside you in silence, no words, just the rhythm of us breathing in the same space.
I wonder where we’ll go next -in different directions, but forever connected by the tides we once knew.
A Buck in the Sky
Tyler Schlarb ‘25
Track
Bianca Belle ‘25
The track is where I feel the most alive, With every step, my worries fade away. I push myself, I fight, I jump, I strive, And chase the wind with every passing day.
The starter’s gun, a burst, then run, The world is quiet except my breath and speed. The race is tough, but still, I won’t be done, I push ahead and give all I need.
My legs may burn, my lungs may beg for air, But still, I race, no matter what it takes.
Through highs and lows, through triumph and despair, I run because I love the path it makes.
No matter where my life may choose to go, The track is home, a love I’ll always know.
Aubrey Kremer ‘26
The Cape of a Hero
Savannah Katz ‘25
When life’s rope becomes tangled, my perception of dance becomes angled. Reality dims, falling into courage and grace, My leotard, my cape is what I embrace. My second skin becomes my shield, as materialistic worries start to yield. In a space so free I want to soar, with each pirouette I long for an encore.
Stepping into light of peace and healing, the moves, the beat give me a persisting feeling. My world remade has become iron-willed, My cape, my escape, the hero instilled.
French Café Sophia Church ‘25
My Haven Sophia Church ‘25
Summer in Flagstaff was all that mattered to me.
All good things came from the cabin in the pines.
I can still feel the warm hug of the summer sunshine on my back. Still hear the buzzing and chirping of the critters as they go about their day. Still smell the fresh-cut grass and sweet scent of the forest as a friendly breeze sweeps through the branches.
If I close my eyes, I can see my blue bike with the white basket leaning up against a wooden post, patiently waiting for me to return. If magic were real, it would’ve surrounded that little community, Would’ve patched up every scraped knee, Would be heard in every laugh and felt in the very essence of that haven --
Those trees, that house, my people.
That is what I lived for. I never wanted to be anywhere else but with those trees, that house, my people.
But like all good things, it had to come to an end. I became too big for that blue bike with the white basket, and the wooden post no longer stands. The magic remains, but it welcomed a new family, shared new memories and brought new people together. Yet summer for me will always be those trees, that house, my people.
Out Back
Dane Rutti ‘25
Take me to a place out back
One the rich boys talk about
The beach that lives within your dreams
A mountain with no bliss or gleam
A simple tree with a tire swing
On the old front porch where we all sing;
Back in the valley with a friend I know
Who doesn’t mind laying low
Getting back with our old band
Saying hi to my old man
Breakfish
Caroline Isgar ‘25
Kate
Avery Katz ‘25
In every universe, I am with you, I the poet and you my muse, And you the singer and I the blues.
Together we make one marvelous tune
One so connected like the stars and the moon
Our sisterhood is a tapestry, Our souls are like threads sewn together, I want to be with you forever.
There would be no me without you, Without you, the flowers would stop blooming, The birds would stop singing, And the world would stop spinning,
In every universe, I am with you, I the patroness and you the art, And you the strings and I the harp.
Together we make one whole heart
One so connected, we can never be torn apart. For you are my darling sweetheart
Jesus Christ
Penny Ponterio ‘27
Rex Twibell ‘25
He made the earth, ocean, and sky
He hears us when we laugh and cry
He watches over us and will forever care
He shows us love and is always there
He gives us strength to stand up tall
He catches us when we may fall
He walks with us when times are tough
He says His grace is more than enough
He died on the cross for our sins
Jesus Christ will always win
Bridge Over a Pond of Water
Graysen Torczon ‘25
Lillies
Home
Colton Holling ‘25
I fear, I cry, I stress, I lie
Yet on this Lake I feel no fear
I bleed, I stain, I dread, I pain
Yet on this Lake I cannot bleed
I feel alone like a lonesome stone
Yet on this lake I know I’m home
In the wind, the earth, the sea, the sky, It calls to me where I lie
From its lulling waves to its rocky coast
I know this place I love the most
For no matter the fear and stress above
This place I know, this place I love
Bond, James Bond
Chloe Handel ‘26
A Poker Tale
Connor Helm ‘25
The chips fall.
The rockets hidden under my thumbs
Seem unimaginable in the mind of my opponent.
The eyes widen, but quickly relax
As the Ace flips on the river “I’ll shove,” says my victim I smile as I show The boat I have under, And he sighs as he picks up his bag and goes.
Glance of Light Kaleigh Sanders ‘26
To Mom
Jason Samis ‘25
She used to wear the badge, late nights, long days, always answering the call. I never understood how she carried so much the weight of others’ pain, the pressure to always be strong. At home, she was simply Mom. The one who held me when I cried, laughed with me until we couldn’t breathe, and showed me what it means to love without limits. She’s retired now no more radios crackling in the night, no more rushed goodbyes at the door. But strength doesn’t retire. It lives in her words, her kindness, and the way she still shows up for everyone who needs her.
Living in a Submarine Kaleigh Sanders ‘26
Craving a Book
Fernanda Aragon ‘27
Easy to devour, hard to put down
It’s as addicting as a candy bar
You wish for another one,
Despite having read only a bit so far
Tasting every single one,
The healthiest choice is not always the initial
Your eyes shift to your favorite flavor,
Like characters that are merely artificial
The twist is in the middle
Like sticky taffy that’s hard to chew
But also like sour candy
Pungent at first, but the sweetness comes through
The wrapper keeps the sweet fresh and tasty
Stating the ingredients and when it was made
Whether the setting be vibrant or dark,
The aromas just cannot fade
The Sound
Chris Misselbrook ‘27
A cold, brisk wind
Following the sounds of the forever; gone
A boy walks, slowly as he drifts to a sound
Was it the call of his mother, calling home
Or the sound of the lost, heavens far
Was it angels warning him to stop
Or the Creator calling him
Although the answer is never clear, It once was
The sound of better times Lush, full
The grace of our lives dives deep
No more can we see, touch; hear the sound of liberation
A Bizzare World Jack Stacey ‘26
For my brother,
For My Brother Aileen Paul ‘27
I know sometimes we fight,
How you think I am always wrong
And somehow, you are forever right
But you are the greatest gift that life has given me, So always know that I love the little things about you.
The way you get excited at the smallest gifts, How you jump up and down with joy watching the people you love succeed
The way that you smile at almost anything and everyone, That you come into every game with compassion and heart
How you look up to those that others view as insignificant
The look on your face when we pick you from school
The way that you still act as if you are in 3rd grade
How you are determined to be the world’s best basketball player That you see the bad as something quite good
The way you treat your friends with kindness and respect
How you ask questions you already know the answers to That silly little laugh you have
The way you call me your best friend.
From every sister to their brother,
No one loves you more than me.
George Bailey Hammond
Josh Hammond ‘26
Yanko’s Game
Drew Jacobs ‘25
The board is set, squares worn and wise. His hands, steady as old oak roots, move the knight with quiet grace, a lesson woven into each step. I mirror his gaze, deep as night, reading the game, the years, the love. Pawns march like echoes of his past, while bishops whisper secrets long kept.
Checkmate comes with a knowing smile, not a victory, but a memory in the bank. How I miss that game.
He is Risen Mia Brooks ‘25
Music of Heaven
Julia Kelly ‘25
The voice that raises up the word Can strengthen still the word alone
The life is weeping for the world
Until it finds the better home
Existent only to be shared
Out of the darkness I’m delivered
Through the beauty of the Baird And the hope cannot be withered
Through the voice, through the song, through the flowing melody
We are healed, we are brought to the joyous symphony
Of the light, of the Lord, of the valiant kingdom of God
The music of heaven is here
Light Lost
Brooke Davis ‘26
The Crying Candle
Julia Kelly ‘25
As the candle cries and I close my eyes
I open my heart to you
As the candle cries and the twilight dies
I give my whole life to you
As it burns down deep
And I cannot sleep
I hear your whispers calling me
As the candle cries, I realize
That my life belongs to you
As the wind blows strong and I hear your song
It’s your voice I long to hear
As the wind blows strong and I sing along
I feel your presence near
Where your river flows
And your people know
That you ’ re calling us right here
As the wind blows strong, where I do belong?
Since my life belongs to you
Self
Krissy Goodwin ‘26
Happiness Lingers
Haley Wilkum ‘25
Like the smell of campfire smoke in my hair, from the moment we met, we ’ ve been a perfect pair.
Whenever we ’ re together, our conversation flows like a river after rain.
Your laugh is as sweet as the sound of Aspen Trees when it’s quiet and there is a strong breeze.
Your smile is whiter than the clouds in the sky; it melts my heart like snow when you cry.
My sister by choice and my best friend by fate, never will I need to seek more, my favorite person I’ll forever adore.
Flowers
Sofia Pastrana ‘25
You’ll Find (Love)
Briar O’Donnell ‘27
you'll find love is hard to find if you have none inside what i mean is like attracts like: moths to a flame bees to flowers to keep warm to make sweet a light in the dark a sweet in the sour what i mean is: love is not something someone else needs to give in order for you to have it what i mean is: love is an act of giving (do you see? with the flowers and the bees?) what i mean is: be the flower be the flame and the bees and the moths will find their way and you will find honey and warmth (and what is love, if not honey and warmth?)
Diego Gomez ‘25
Puffin
What you Seek is What you Find
Briar O’Donnell ‘27
i never liked the color orange and what you seek is what you find but i could never find a reason to hate the things made of orange sunsets and bonfires and butterflies and oranges and all my favorite foods even my favorite flower
i thought there was something to be said about hating the thing that made up so many things i loved. in comparison, i hate you. but i love our memories (streetlights casting an orange glow music humming through the air the warmth of your hand like a flame laughter and smiles and summer) and maybe there is something to be said about nostalgia and distance bringing fondness and memories i love made up of someone i hate but although i am learning to love the color orange i don’t think i can learn to love you (not again)
Marilyn Monroe Katie Pezzuto ‘27
The Poet & The Painter
Ava Stine ‘25
you don't understand what we could have been with my pen and your paintbrush we could have immortalized each other but you ' re the only one who's going to live forever every letter echoes your name the words form every facet of your face these lines chisel your form verse runs through your veins my poems breathe life into you until the end of time but your brushstrokes don't strengthen me the colors aren't right the rush of artistry doesn't fill my arteries that's how I know death is the end for me my love bestowed your divinity and I still crave you, more than I'll admit but I am only a mortal and you are the idol I created
Ganesh
Angel Oukosavanna ‘25
Pluto takes 248 years to complete one revolution yet it feels like my rebellion won't surface against the tyrannies of an unmade bed, uncut hair, choices that aren't mine, shame that exists only within my mind, “What if’s” that keep me up as if I get a second chance, or a cursed reflection in a cracked mirror with a leery conviction to never meet my eyes. Pluto takes 248 years. 248.
Change takes 249 years. I fear change. This primordial trepidation set in motion by our ancestors, inherited only by our descendants.
Change is the absolute prosecutor
and we ’ re its star-crossed defendants. Change is as inevitable as Charon, Pluto’s moon, is to stay in his orbit. Change is as inevitable as Charon, Pluto’s son is to cry, break, plunge, crater, into Pluto’s cracked surface. Carrying the weight of his self-image held by others, he carries the weight. Boundless, gravity. Inexorable expectations, indefinite indecisiveness, a cadent finality. In turn, his back buckles, his vision and judgement is clouded. I fear change, But I loathe Charon.
Autumn Tree
Jamo Cox ‘28
Don’t Grieve for Leaves that are Yet to Fall
Ally Isgar ‘25
Don’t be a tree with leaves of green
In a grove of amber, yellow, and red
Lingering on the past cannot change time
Or slow the march of winter ahead
For when the snow clears, the grove will blossom
And shade the soil below
But now your leaves have only just fallen
Purely time will make them grow
The other trees will wave in the wind
While you can only bow
Because you are stuck in yesterday and worried about tomorrow
So don’t grieve for leaves that are yet to fall
Or wish for their return
If you heed the present’s quiet call
Trust is what you learn
The Adaptive Emotion
Nathan
Schlarb ‘25
Every emotion is defined by a distinct color. It becomes a part of their identity, makes them recognizable. Yet Empathy doesn’t fall into this standard. It is not an act of rebellion or a cry for attention, but merely the meaning of her existence, her essence
Empathy feels what others feel. Therefore, her color is not fixed but adaptive Her look shared by what she empathizes with. She turns blue when one is faced with sadness.
She appears red when one is consumed by anger. And she looks yellow when one is filled with joy.
Yet her color can’t define her, for it is ever changing
Her slow walk and gentle demeanor make her recognizable. Her voice is as soft as the fluffiest cloud in the sky
And when you are lucky enough to exchange words with her, You’ll feel the peace, the love, and the compassion That radiates off her adaptive skin
Her heart-warming eyes make you feel seen, The warm touch of her hand on yours makes you feel supported, and something about her makes you want to sit with her for eternity Knowing all will be well with your good friend Empathy.
Because when sadness steals from your soul, Empathy provides.
When anger needs to vent, Empathy listens.
And when fear is amplified, Empathy comforts. She exists not for herself or for her own goals, Not for what you expect her to be, Not to be adaptive, to change, or to break the norms. She exists for others, She lives for you.
The Last Bell
Alexa Hall ‘25
The halls once echoed with laughter and dreams, Four years felt endless at least, so it seemed.
Lockers slammed, footsteps raced, Now I walk slower, trying to embrace.
The countdown began before I knew,
The final chapters, the shrinking view. Memories pressed like ink on a page, Moments of joy, heartbreak, and change. The last bell rings, a bittersweet sound, I step forward, yet look back around.
Goodbyes are heavy, but futures are bright, A journey ends in morning light.
Bright Summer Katherine Taylor ‘25
The bright sun reflects the round Honeycrisp apples, bright red with hints of yellow that catch the light -smooth, vibrant skin against the green leaves of a tree standing tall in the sky. Each one is uniquely selected. The air is cool, and when you take a bite -it is a fresh burst of sweetness. The juice drips on the scorching summer pavement -it shimmers on the ground for only a second before its gone.
Summer is a bright red apple in your hand.
LetterfromtheEditor
To see from another person ’ s perspective is to put oneself in their shoes – to see from their point of view.
The poets and artists showcased in this magazine have given not just their art and writing, but a peek into their fears, dreams, desires, hearts, and experiences. It’s through the sharing of art and poetry that we are able to view another person ’ s life through their eyes, and to come to understand one another better.
I, along with the rest of the staff of Perspective, have had the privilege of bringing these viewpoints together in one publication, and we hope that this edition does justice to the immense artistic talent present on the Notre Dame Preparatory Campus.
I’d like to extend a special thanks to all of the artists, authors, teachers, and staff whose effort makes Perspective possible.
Alyse Odinet
