The Tiger By Dorothy Helen Henderson
Dedicated to St. Philip’s Tigers The tiger is fierce in its approach to life circumstances Pouncing along the rough rigid mountains to devour its prey to undertake With a thunderous roar, it shakes and breaks the foundations under its grounds of meaning Seizing all of its foes to reconcilement, while still beaming and gleaming A tiger goes through the trenches of this world, to conquer all of its own desired glory, As a trailblazer through any kind of weather, while digging and seeping its claws into the soil in which it stands, and with every breath it takes; it takes to take in demand The mighty tiger is a creature that I, too, can see in thy own eye’s sight To roam the world with great ambition, while also yielding to plight The eye of the tiger is thy own eye that I seek, and while I strive to accomplish my life’s goals I know that I can achieve, The tiger is I and that Tiger is we.
Tiger P.A.W.S. Personal Academic Writing Space St. Philipâ€™s College Volume 3, Issue 1 Spring 2014
Cover Art: Trippy for the Spotlight by Danielle Alonzo Digital Art
Tiger P.A.W.S. is a student publication composed of works submitted by students that are reviewed and organized by a student editorial staff. The selected works may not reflect the attitudes or opinions of St. Philipâ€™s College or the Department of Communications and Learning.
Acknowledgments The Tiger P.A.W.S. staff wishes to thank the following people: Mary Cottier— Dean of Arts and Sciences Sean Nighbert—Chair, Communications & Learning San Juan San Miguel—Director, Writing Center Nereida Reyes— Senior Tutor, Writing Center Mitchell Miranda—Art & Photography Judge Thomas Reprographics
Editorial Staff Student Staff:
Lee Ann Epstein
Linda Hirt Dana Robinson Ondrejia L. Scott
Table of Contents Trippy for the Spotlight—Danielle Alonzo….……………………..
The Tiger—Dorothy Helen Henderson..……………………….……..
Forget Me Not—Hannah Lee Mahaffey………….……………………
Woodland 1/2—Dora Nieto…………………………………………………….
Struggle—Melody L. Halsrud……………….……………………….……...
Dancing Dog—Robert Requejo…………………………..……………….…
Service Animals—Sultan Alsmaeel……………..…………………….....
Perfect Shot—Serina Holder…………..………………………………..…...
Peaceful Bliss—Corinne Halbardier...……………..……………….…..
The Peaceful Pain in My Meadows—Cedric Washington
My Mother’s Last Day—Sharon Robinson…..…….…...………...
Together One Day—Sarina Silva.………………...………..……………..
Cluck and Strut—Melody L. Halsrud…………………………………..
Kissing Horse—Jessica Haas……………...…….……………………...……
Moments of Meditation—LaTansha Mayberry………….………
Sun in My Milk—Dorothy Helen Henderson..………..…..…….
A Fisherman’s Sight at Dawn—Dawn Crystal Ramirez.…..
I Just Can’t Help It—Jacob Rocha.…..…………………………………..
Not Like the Rest—Jennifer De La Torre…………………………….
Life Goes On—Sara Segura………………...……………….……………....…
If I Died—Dana Robinson…………......………..……………..……………..
Day Is Done—Serina Holder.……………….………………….……….…….
Widow—Melody L. Halsrud……...…………………………..….………...
Without You—Joy Morales……………………...…………………………….
Baby Girl I Will—Leo Guron.…………………………….………………....
They Say—Priscilla Palomo……...…………………………………..……..…
The Best You, You Can Be—Jennifer De La Torre..…………….
Two Lives of the Moon—Anastacia Casarez………...…….……..
Table of Contents Days of Play—Sharon Robinson.………………………………………..…
B.A.P. Song Poem—Jessica J. Cipriano-Seyfried…………….….
My Starry Night—Jessica Haas.………………………….…….………..…
Indian Blanket—Melody L. Halsrud……..………..…………………...
Leaving Your Shadow—Anastacia Casarez……………………...…
Afternoon Stroll—Kelsey Kendrick…………………………………..….
Reflection of Emotion—Keren Hernandez.………………………..
Black Butterfly—Dorothy Helen Henderson.…………………….
Feeding Time—Gladys Figueroa ………………………………………….
VIVA San Antonio!—Ondrejia Scott…...……………………………….
Still Water—Serina Holder…………………………………………………….
A Note from Childhood—Dana Robinson…………………………..
In Route—Ondrejia Scott……………………………………………………….
A Warm Visit—Ruth Anne Balderas……………………………………
Landscape View 1/1—Dora Nieto…………………………………………..
Twins and Bikes—Adelide Ybarra………………………………………..
Sunset—Melody L. Halsrud……………………………………………………
Country Sunset—Christal Davis…………………………………………..
My Life in College—Hillary Martinez………………………………….
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Forget Me Not By Hannah Lee Mahaffey
He tells me he loves me. He tells me he can't live without me. We're getting married tomorrow, so why can't I remember him? It all started with a horrible accident. I woke up in the hospital not knowing who I was. The doctors told me I had amnesia. They told me I was lucky to be alive. The first thing I remember seeing was his face. He told me we were scaling a mountain when a freak landslide happened. My rope broke, and I was pummeled by a ton of rocks. He told me that the day before the accident he had proposed and that I had said yes. All this happened one year ago. Now I'm supposed to marry this man that I've only really known for a year. He's not a bad guy. In fact he's the only one who has been there for me since I was released from the hospital. He's been so kind to me, so I guess in a way I feel obligated to marry him. But, I can't shake this feeling that he's not telling me the whole truth. And then there are these dreams I've been having lately. I see these faces that I can't quite recognize, but they still feel familiar to me. Maybe I'm starting to remember something from my life before the accident. But when I describe the people in my dreams to my soon-to-be husband, he assures me that it was just a dream, and I should leave it at that. Maybe I'm just having cold feet. Maybe I'm just scared to start my new life as a married woman. Or maybe, just maybe, I'm beginning to remember. “Honey, I'm going to the store; do you want anything?” I say as I grab my purse and car keys. “No, but do you want me to go with you?” Mitch, my new husband, asks as he gets up from the table. “No, it's okay. I'll be back soon,” I say as I walk out the door, not giving him time to respond. I see him watching me through the window as I drive off. We've been married for two months now. And in those two months, I barely get a minute to myself. He always
wants to be near me. Not two minutes after I leave, my cell phone rings. It's him, so I turn off my phone. He has some real issues; it's like he can't let me be by myself. I really don't understand that man. I know he must love me, but there's such a thing as too much time together. It's been this way ever since I said, “I do.” It doesn't help that the dreams are getting more vivid and disturbing. I've been having dreams of the same woman over and over. In my dreams, I think I'm in love with her. Some of them are even a bit erotic. Needless to say, I am very confused, and my love life with my new husband is suffering tremendously. In all honesty, I prefer the dreams. Another weird thing that has happened is I went to the DMV to get my driver’s license renewed, and they told me that my name didn't match my fingerprints. They are going to look into it further and send me a letter in the mail. I feel like ever since the accident I have been living in the twilight zone. My husband is a needy control freak, and I think I'm kind of gay. I feel like I'm living someone else’s life. When I get to the store, something catches my eye. It’s a missing poster, and the girl that is missing looks a lot like me. I think I might be going crazy. Her name is Rachel McArthur, and she has been missing for a little over a year. Oh, my God, I think that might be me. I need to get to the bottom of this, so I head straight home. When I get home, Mitch is still staring out the window. “The mail came, and there is a letter for you,” Mitch says, holding an opened envelope. “You opened my mail?” I ask, although I am not too surprised. “Mitch, please back off. We need to have a very serious talk. Something very strange is going on. I saw something today that has me very scared and confused. Can you please tell me why there are missing posters of a girl with my face but not my name? What the hell is going on?” I nearly scream. His face goes blank for a split second and then is replaced
with an almost demonic expression. “Sadly, I always knew this day would come.” And before I have a chance to answer, he throws my head against the wall, and everything goes black. I open my eyes slowly and realize I'm tied to a chair. It's all coming back to me. My name is Rachel. I was never in a relationship with that man prior to the accident. I had a restraining order against him for stalking me. I had a girlfriend named Cindy, and we were on a camping trip. He showed up and killed her. He tried to kill me. He had it in his mind that we were meant to be together and that he was going to cure me from being gay. He hit me over the head with a rock, and I guess I lost my memory. Getting my head hit a second time probably brought it back. “You killed Cindy, you psycho!” I scream. “That whore deserved to die. She was corrupting you. And I see you got your memory back,” he says as steps towards me menacingly. “Yes, I sure did, and you’re never going to get away with this!” I scream as I struggle to get free. “I already have; we're married now. You’re my wife until death do us part.” And with that, Mitch grabs a bat, swings, and again everything goes black. I wake up in a hospital room to the face of a man I don't know. I have a horrible headache, and I have no memory of how I got there. “Who are you?” I ask as I sit up slowly and rub my aching head. “Oh, my darling, I'm so glad you’re awake. Don't you remember me? I'm your husband Mitch.” He tells me he loves me. He tells me he can't live without me. He's my loving husband. So why can't I remember him?
Woodland 1/2 By Dora Nieto
Collagraph Print (Ink)
Struggle By Melody L. Halsrud
We are drowning. Desperately holding on to what we still have. We are in quicksand slowly sinking to our death. The more we try to get out, The deeper in the hold we get. This suffocation is killing us. Is there a light at the end of this dark tunnel? Are we strong enough to make it? I will not go down without a fight, DAMN IT! Are you? I guess not, for I’m here still fighting. And you’re not…
Dancing Dog By Robert Requejo
I could not believe my eyes when I heard of a dancing dog that changed the life of my friend Edward. My friend returned from the Iraqi War. Edward served his country, a hero to me. Edward was ambushed along with his platoon of ten; four marines died that day. Luckily, Edward survived. Edward told me he would rather have died with his fellow Marines. Edward is a paraplegic; in addition, he suffers from post- traumatic stress disorder. I and other friends of Edward were invited to a celebration at his home. We were in for a big surprise. Edward introduced his best friend/girlfriend Bella. Bella is a service dog that was a gift from Edwardsâ€™s parents. Our friend announced to all of us that he was going to perform a dance, a salsa meringue number. The D.J. put on the music. Bella stood on her back legs wearing a dancing outfit, and off they both went, dancing. Edward was twirling and spinning his wheelchair, and they danced a whole routine. They had practiced very hard for quite some time. The crowd could not believe it! After hearing how bad my friend Edward, a hero, had it, it made me realize how good I have it. We all thanked Bella and Edwardâ€™s parents for bringing our friend Edward back to life.
Service Animals By Sultan Alsmaeel My name is Sultan Alsmaeel, and I am from Saudi Arabia. I arrived in the United States in 2012 on the 1st of January. To my surprise, the very first day I was in this country I saw many dogs being walked by their owners as well as by the handicapped. I was really astonished since we do not do this in my country. Normally, we have the animals on the farms or sometimes in homes but not very often in homes due to religious beliefs. In my opinion, I think that in the USA there seems to be a great sense of freedom. The handicapped have more liberties, and also, they have more time to spend with their animals outside the house. In Saudi Arabia, handicapped stay home and do not go out often. In America, the handicapped have more freedom; they have more possibilities to have a normal life due to different conditions. For example, they use service animals. In my experience, one time I saw a blind person that was guided by his dog. I was really surprised, so I asked him what it was all about. He told me his dogâ€™s name was Waldo, and since he could not see, Waldo became his vision. For example, when he wants to go out, Waldo guides him through the streets, and when there is any danger, Waldo stops and warns him. Waldo guides him to the grocery store, the park, streets, everywhere he wants. He also explained to me how Waldo has become a part of his life and a loyal friend, and now he feels like he has kind of a normal life without bothering anyone. In Saudi Arabia, the handicapped life is kind of lonely, and they barely go outside. Most of the time, they just stay at home, such as my friend Mohammad. He spent all day listening to the TV or radio. He never wanted to go out or was afraid to go by himself to the grocery store. He must wait till someone is available to take him anywhere. Finally, I find it very helpful that in the USA handicapped people have the possibility to use service animals, and I strongly hope that this idea can be spread and taught worldwide so that others might feel the freedom that we all take for granted.
Afraid By Anastacia Casarez
It’s coming fast Praying my peace will last Tears threaten to spill I think I’m feeling ill My stomach doing turns My heart feels burned Afraid of what’s to come Will I be thought of as dumb? How to deny what’s to be Desiring much just to be free Ashamed of these feelings Upon this time I’m kneeling Begging exit from this nightmare Hoping life will become fair Wishing for a tight embrace To chase my fears away
Perfect Shot By Serina Holder
Peaceful Bliss By Corinne Halbardier
The Painful Peace in My Meadows By Cedric Washington The peaceful meadows will be laid waste because of the fierce anger of the Lord. ~Jeremiah 25:37
As I take my first steps in the meadows of peaceful intuitions Reminiscing over a world that always seemed to understand, I repent My imperious soul in return made me forget who I was, A soulless vessel yet a soulful soul With unfinished justice within My life has once again become dark Why am I so hopeful to hear the sounds of torment? Iâ€™ve been broken down so much my heart feels asunder Its shards of lost dreams and love remind me of my pain But such a pain I so love to endure! A simple emotion that keeps my maliced mind and impulsive nature At a standstill The deeds on this journey I now face Make me realize my sadness is my happiest moment My loneliness is my warmth of family As I walk through the meadows Tears in my eyes Thereâ€™s a faint silence to my desire With no one to love, but so much within Not knowing who I was, but remembering who I am Filled with a new sense of empathy These meadows have brought love, peace, and happiness The pains of my heart which have mended a broken man
My Mother’s Last Day By Sharon Robinson
On August 3, 2010, it was a day of joy and pain; it was my twin’s brother’s birthday—and also the day death stole my mother away. I remember her laugh, her favorite green dress she wore, the smell of her perfume called Red Door. We talked about time we shared, moments and dreams of going somewhere. I recall that day over and over again, realizing that I lost more than a mother, but also my friend. Like a wound unable to heal, in my heart is where the pain lies still. I wrap myself in memories of days of she and I, and I begin to cry. Remembering never to ask why, God must have needed her that day, when he called his and my angel away.
Together One Day By Sarina Silva As I close my eyes Every single night The image of you makes my heart leer That gives my heart hope and fear Peace in my soul Is to know I will see your loving face Even though I have to go my own pace You, created inside of me I nurtured you And protected you Because I wanted you to see How joyous life can be I would give my heart and soul Just for you to have it so To be able to hold and hug you so tight So full of love For there is no one That can stop this in me I know one day I will see My Love that I so adore For eternity and ever more
Cluck and Strut By Melody L. Halsrud
Cluck and Strut is showing off his stuff. To catch the hen’s eye. He doesn’t care if the cows scowl. He is a fowl on the prowl. Cluck and Strut ran amok and pecked a child on the butt. This did catch someone’s eye; and now he’s in the farmer’s pie.
Kissing Horse By Jessica Haas
Moments of Meditation By LaTansha Mayberry
There is nothing new under the sun. Whether I am thinking back on my past, experiencing my present, or looking forward to my future, one thing I know for sure is that enemies will attack and be defeated. Obstacles will come and be overcome. As I think back on my life, I can’t say that it was all bad or bad at all. With and through my relationship with God, and His word, I have slowly yet surely learned that all of these, and those things to come, are all working together for my good. A verbally abusive and sometimes physically abusive childhood came into my thoughts. An inexperienced unwed mother, from an inexperienced unwed mother, I also was an inexperienced unwed mother. I constantly prayed to God that my daughter would not turn out like us, me in particular. I thought back on 4909 Roja Drive located in Oceanside, California. I observed the overwhelming sun, setting on yet another day of loneliness. I prayed to God that He would make me a “soccer” mom before I even knew what the term meant. I also prayed to God that the lights nor water would ever be cut off. I prayed my children would never go without food or the basic necessities of daily living. I made all of these requests, before ever knowing for myself who God is, or God’s power. One thing I know for sure is that God keeps all of His promises.
How can a child grow, being raised by a mother full of hatred towards the father and constantly taking it out on the child? Knockdown drag-out fights among the siblings being allowed as a source of entertainment turned me into a long distance relative living in the same city. The more I try and block my childhood out of my mind, to make it nonexistent in my memory, the more it appears. It seems like at every turn, every corner, it is taunting me continuously just saying, â€œI am not going anywhere, nor will I ever disappear.â€? Yet the more I contemplate, the more beneficial all of my childhood memories become. I think back constantly on how the devil used so many of the people I loved, and the ones I thought loved me back. I almost always have a different reaction. I praise God for bringing me through unharmed, unincarcerated, and in my right mind. I have many mixed feelings of bitterness, anger, hatred, and pity, but most of all I have forgiveness. I am thinking and looking back on how all of the not-so-good moments of those days have sharpened and molded me into the Great Woman of God that is presented to you this day. Most of the things that I hated and could not stand from my past have turned me into a treasured possession and dearly beloved child of God, whom I love today. Where I so easily fell before, I now can stand and face any obstacle in my way. For the love I never received, always desired, and prayed for, yet lacked from my biological mother and father, my Heavenly Father has more than exceeded in all areas of my life.
Plate By Christina Rivera Every day I wonder In every thought I get lost There’s a lot on my plate Each crumb is a thought My plate is piled with food covered in mold, That’s how long it been since my food went from warm to cold. I never moved this place. I feel like I shouldn’t move, It’s been 11 years since I picked up this spoon; The smell is so intense, It makes me think of the scent; When they opened up my dad’s casket, He looked so dead. I was 14 years of age, Still a little out of rage. Now I’m 19 and a mother that feels caged; My son is the glass of water, I drink to keep me going, He is the water that keeps my heart flowing;
9 siblings is a bunch, 6 brothers who love to punch, 2 sisters who draw; I love them all Iâ€™m the 3rd oldest of them all. 2 big brothers, 4 little brothers, 2 little sisters, I almost took care of them all. They're like my son. I feel like their mom, Just one day CPS took us all; We all went separate ways. I just hate each day, I just wish God could bring them back to our old place. Home is what we called it, And memories are what surround it. This plate is getting bigger Each thought is what causes it.
Sun in My Milk By Dorothy Helen Henderson Opening my eyes to the early morning sunlight, that beams through my bedroom window, Lets me know that I have lived another day Breathing in the fresh air that hits my lungs lets me know that I'm ready to conquer all that awaits me and whatever obstacles that try to get into my way Sun in my milk I'm a powerful source to be reckoned with, and I'm ready to have the sun in my milk for my breakfast I'm out eating the earth at a glacier pace The aurora lights are so far away, but I still shine like those colored lights in the worst of my days With the sun in my milk and the milk in my sun I'll be dancing with the flowers and living a life filled with fun I beat to my own drum I dream of a life filled with love As long as I'm alive, I will always have The milk in my sun………. Sun in my milk
A Fishermanâ€™s Sight at Dawn By Dawn Crystal Ramirez
I Just Can’t Help It By Jacob Rocha I just can’t help but to win. My family lives to win. My parents have trophies to prove this, My siblings have friends to back this up, Even my friends hate when I win, I just can’t help it. Even when I lose the main game I diminish the win, I must be least loser even when I lose. I prove I could have won in order to win in morale. I just can’t help it. A card game I misplayed, A physical game I made one bad play, A video game it glitches. I must win in the midst of a loss. I just can’t help it What can I do? My blood beckons a win. My emotions must be the best. But what can I do? I just can’t help it.
Not Like the Rest By Jennifer De La Torre At times I'm selfish, and sometimes I can be real sweet I can be hard headed, and sometimes a little incomplete But if you give me a chance, I can show you the other side Of what others can't see and what most of the time I try to hide I'm not a perfect person, and I'm no super model But when I put my mind to something, I give my all; I push it full -throttle Some might say my best is sometimes not enough But if you can't accept me for who I am, all I can say is, "that's tough." I will not compare myself to other girls; I'm not considered the best But if you canâ€™t accept my flaws, then you don't deserve the rest
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Life Goes On By Sara Segura
Life Goes On A Smile, A Tear, A Laugh, A Beer.
If I Died By Dana Robinson If I died and went to heaven, would you be at my funeral mourning me? If I died with words left unsaid, would you know I still loved you, regardless of the regrets? If I died after an argument took place, would you know that is the last I would not want to happen? If I died with no explanation, would you think of me as a hypocrite or someone full of love? If I died today, to enter into the Father's Embrace, would arguments and hurt seem so trivial that you could wish just for one more day, to seek forgiveness and peace, just to know that there is no more day? If I died, knowing today was the last, would you understand that I loved with a love that could not be understood, but hopefully, a legacy had begun to take place?
If I died, without my dreams being met, would you want me to understand our friendship meant more than what any man could understand? If I died, would I die shunned, no peace at hand, no friends to last, everyone pushed away, knowing in my heart that I did not mean to hurt anyone in disgrace... If I died, would tears be shed? would I be missed; would you indeed understand my heart at last? Or would I die full of shame, never knowing true grace, full of pain, scared not of the truth, but knowing the lies that took place? Does unforgiveness really keep pride away, or is there another way? Talk it out, forgive, love and communicate, because there might not be another day!
Day Is Done By Serina Holder
Widow By Melody L. Halsrud Once a upon a time, I use to call you mine. But we had run out of time. Your lips tasted as fine as pure moonshine; strong and sweet all at the same time. When you were mine, Your arms would hold me, keeping me safe and warm. You were never unkind; taking the time to hear what was on my mind. Our love was a firestorm meant to withstand time. It was as if we were of the same body, soul, and mind. We had some good times and bad, but I cherish those time we had. I wish we could rewind to those days. Before our world had gone completely astray. When you decided that you had overstayed. I have to say thatâ€™s where my world turned to gray. Was there some way I could have made you stay? I can feel my heart and soul slowly decaying away. Why did you have to go so far away? How could you leave this world? Leaving me and what we had behind To face the world all alone, without you by my side.
Without You By Joy Morales As I gaze at a blank white space, your touch I feel; your lips I taste. Time away from you is a waste; in your arms is where my life takes place. Every second I get with you I embrace; one look at you I feel my heart race. With all that I am, I can honestly say without you I’m a blank space. Playing a role in this lifelong play of which I cannot partake. I gave my heart away, and now the consequences I must pay. You carry my heart around on a gold plastered tray, Which you may drop at any time, and into pieces it will break. Of that pain I cannot take. So I will say since I met you, my life can never be the same. As I lay, you are the one I think of at the end of the day. Will we make it? I trust in you that everything will be okay. Friends come and go, of this you know. Girlfriends may too, but I promise you our love is true. I’m never leaving your side; I’ll fight to stay in your life because you’re worth more than anyone to me. If you don’t believe it just wait; one day you’ll see. We’ll be reminiscing as I serve you a glass of tea.
The Buick By Joshua Garcia This was my first time going to meet my mother’s friends. I did not know them personally, but apparently, Mom had been friends with them for a very long time. She would go on and on about how they would do goofy stuff, mess with kids, and have good times back in the day. Mom said her friends had kids, two sons. One was my age, and the other was already out of grade school; there was a daughter my age as well. We were already driving on the way to their house to go hang out with them. Mom said, “It’s been years since I’ve seen ‘em.” I always enjoyed driving around in the car. I always wondered what new objects I would see as we passed by, but for some reason, this drive was super boring. We were driving down this open country road, to your left a field, and to your right—you guessed it—a field as well. I thought to myself that I could not even mess with my little brother because he was asleep. Even though I am bored, I like the car we are driving in. It may have been no Mercedes or Cadillac, but it was an old -school Buick. This big old boat was awesome. It was maroon with white lining running along the of side the car; this car was so roomy that I could not even aggravate Mom by kicking her seat. The best part on this car was the hood; I liked the hood because it did not match the rest of the body of the car. The hood was a solid pearl white, compared to the
maroon finish the rest of the Buick had. About a year back, Mom had an accident where she ended up in a house. It was as if the car and Mom were tic for tac. The car put Mom in the hospital, and Mom put the car’s hood in the junkyard. I told her she should not have come to pick me up from school; she was severely sick and was doing all that came with sickness: vomiting, nausea, and fever. Mom ended up paying the price for it, and unluckily, so did our poor old Buick. “Are we there yet?” I asked impatiently. Seconds later we pulled up to this trailer; the road went from an asphalt road to a very rocky and bumpy road. As we slowly were driving up to the trailer, the Buick was super bouncy. I started to laugh because my brother was asleep, but his head was just everywhere from the rocking of the Buick. This place looked legit. It was a big white and green double-wide trailer. There was a wooden fence that surrounded the backyard, and the best part I liked about this place was the porch. The porch had so many plants and trees; it was as if they owned a jungle. They had banana trees, big ferns, elephant ears, you name it. As I swung open the Buick’s big back door, I thought to myself, “I’m going to love this place.”
Baby Girl I Will By Leo Guron
I envision what lies, through the vision of her eyes, She’s my future; she’s my guide, She’s the promises that I abide, She’s my bucket of chicken and the sides, She’s the reason why I tried, so tell fear I will never hide, I will always stand tall with pride. Alone you will never feel, ‘cause, baby girl, I will always be by your side. I will always love you 4-EVER even on the day that I die.... ......sigh......
They Say By Priscilla Palomo They say she looks like me; I don’t see it. They say she has good manners; I say I try. They say she is beautiful; I think she’s breathtaking.
I say she will drive me crazy; They say it’s all worth it. I wish I could give her the world; They say she has what she needs. All she has is me; They say that’s enough.
The Best You, You Can Be By Jennifer De La Torre Some people want to be a doctor or maybe a cop Or maybe fires are what they want to stop No matter what it is or what you choose to be Just remember and listen to this advice from me You don't have to be the best athlete or the smartest person to walk the earth All you have to do to succeed in life is know your worth Passion and the right attitude will get you far The ones who strive to give their best, you know who you are Your biggest critic is always going to be you But whatever it may be, try your best at whatever you do Forget about anything negative; the positive is all you should see Because You are the best â€˜youâ€™ there is ever going to be
Two Lives of the Moon By Anastacia Casarez
Days of Play By Sharon Robinson Do you remember days of play? When we used to swing at least a half of a day Remember kick ball in the street And tossing a Frisbee Was a fun game for everyone to compete? Or when we slip-n-slide on our knees And play hide-n-seek? Some of us would hide inside to watch T.V. And grab a quick bite to eat. Playing hop scotch in heat and Hand clapping games called rocking-n-robin Tweet, Tweet And Miss Mary Mack Was always dressed in black? And donâ€™t forget picking up jacks We Double Dutch, with a beat Hop on pogo-sticks down the street. Ride our bikes in a hundred degrees. Just to get a Big Red to cool us from the heat We played all day Until we saw street lights blink or heard Mom say Come in; time to eat.
B.A.P. Song Poem By Jessica J. Cipriano-Seyfried As the days go by without you here, the “Sound of Rain” pours from the skies above. My memories replay the good times, giving me “No Mercy” to rest my tired eyes from the sleepless nights that came to me without a word. At times it feels like my heart is in a “Coma” when I walk the streets and see places where we used to meet and go. My heart tells me over and over again we can have “One Shot” again for love. My brain, on the other hand, says, “It’s All Lies”; do not believe your heart when it mocks you that you have another chance with her. When I stand alone in beautiful day, I can feel my heartbreak even more in pain. I fall to my knees as I hold my chest. “If we die, let us be reincarnated again, so we can meet in a ‘Coffee Shop’ one day. So we can talk about our new future,” I mentally tell you, as I lie on the ground to rest my mind and body. “Goodbye, my love”; let us meet again, in another life.
My Starry Night By Jessica Haas
Indian Blanket By Melody L. Halsrud
Leaving Your Shadow By Anastacia Casarez Can you see? Everything you've done to me? I can't think, breathe, see. You’ve got me running. It was me. Now you can finally see That I was the one there, The only one who cared About all your dreams and tears, Holding your hand all these years. I need you to know, that I’m always there when you couldn’t find her and You need to know. I don’t know how much I I can take from you. You already broke Broke me and I cry, Cry away the hurt, The one you left behind. Behind is our past, And I’m not comin’ back. There was once a small part of me, She believed in love And in you way too much. Now it’s me standing here. You finally broke her, And I shut her far away. You can’t hurt me anymore. I will rise one day with you, But it’ll be me with the crown. I’m steppin’ out Outta of your shadow. I’m becoming me now. You need to know; I’m strong and I don’t need you. I got my own life, And you ain’t in it, But I’ll still be here To show what I’ve become. I’m steppin’ out Steppin’ out, Out from you. I’m becoming me again, And, baby, it ain’t with you
Afternoon Stroll By Kelsey Kendrick
Oil on Canvas
Reflection of Emotions By Keren Hernandez
Mixed Media: Pencil, Oil Paint
Black Butterfly By Dorothy Helen Henderson Black butterfly Black butterfly Never fly away Black butterfly Black butterfly For I need you here to stay You were once in my dreams to be intangible Now you are in reality and your love is infallible Where did you come from? And who is your creator? Oâ€Śâ€Ś.. I know that it must be he You come from the Great Land of Oz And he has sent you, to me However did you get your wings? To burn ablaze and so bright with much light Flamboyant and mercurius Soaring and flying through sea blue skies You are the epitome of what a true man is supposed to be Extraordinary to those that meet the eye Black butterfly Black butterfly Never fly away Black butterfly Black butterfly For I need you here to stay
Feeding Time By Gladys Figueroa
VIVA San Antonio! By Ondrejia Scott
Still Water By Serina Holder
A Note from Childhood By Dana Robinson I look at my own six-year-old son in his brown eyes as he asks me that one question I asked my own mom when I was his age, "Mommy, are you going to die?" "I hope not soon! Why do you ask?" "I don't want you to die!" Matthew replied. "Matt, we all die. This is a part of life, but I don't think I am going anytime soon. I still have my family to take care of! Don't worry! Go play!" "Ok, Mom, I am going to go to my room!" Matthew scurried off. I reflected back to my own childhood days. My family was visiting Grandma’s house in the Florida woods. Grandma’s house was about two miles from one of the many creeks that flowed into the St. Johns River. There was an old dirt road turning in from the main street. When you pulled up to the house, one was met by tall, neatly hedged azalea bushes. The bushes ran left to right, leaving the center open to be welcomed with a cement walkway. The walkway led up to the house’s green cement steps. Every little step I took from our car to Grandma's house recalled a childhood memory. On these very steps, I almost got bit by a water moccasin. The snake had come up from the creek and curled into a ball amongst the leaves. I did not see it as I reached down for a rake. I saw the snake in the nick of time as it was about to strike. I ran to Daddy as he came with his ax. My sisters and I stood on the stoop of those green stairs watching the life and death dance between that ole snake and Daddy. Dad chopped the snake’s head off. I can still hear my sister's voice in the background, "Michea, you are supposed to stay still when you
see a snake!" The screened front porch, where I loved to play with the old rocking chairs, was my favorite part of Grandma’s house. Grandma and Mom would often threaten the rocking chairs would flip over on me if I did not sit right. I remember one time sitting with Daddy on that porch I could hear the whippoorwills doing their mating call. Daddy told me that he and his dad would hunt the whippoorwills when he was a kid. The whippoorwill would easily come if one imitated its whistle. Daddy whistled, imitating the whippoorwill’s call. I got excited when I saw that the call actually worked. The whippoorwill’s call is one of my favorite sounds alongside that of a rocking chair rocking on an old creaky floorboard. The dining room was where we gathered to say grace. Literally, that was all that was said: "Grace!" Grandma would have us gather around the dining room table in a circle as we bowed our heads. Grandma, being the oldest, would say, "Grace!" We opened our eyes, sat down, and ate. This was common practice compared to the “God is Good, God is Great” prayer I was used to. The restroom was to the right of the dining room. The antique toilet reminded me of a story about the county carnival. The carnival had the routine games, rides, and food. What set this carnival apart were people dressed up as in the founders’ days. They showed how the founders cooked and made soap. Daddy won me a goldfish at this carnival with which I was delighted, only to have her die later that night. I was upset because Goldie was my first fish. I remember Daddy flushing her down the toilet as my sisters distracted me with play time before bed. Living in the woods, critters are sooner or later going to make their way in the house. Grandma and Mom were cooking in the kitchen when Mom called for Dad. Out of curiosity, my sisters and I climbed on top of each other in the doorway of the kitchen. Looking down, we saw a baby rat. Now, I hate rats. I don't mind snakes so much because they eat
rats. This rat was a newborn baby the size of the tip of a pinky. Regardless, a rat is a rat, and it had to go. Daddy picked it up with a paper towel and flushed it down the toilet. Good riddance! I am thinking about death as a five-year-old. I think about the fish and the rat. I ask my mom the same question that my son asked me, "Are you going to die?" She tells me the same thing, "Not anytime soon, I hope!” "I am not ready for you to die yet!” She tells me to go play. I don't remember if it is night or day. I just remember that conversation in Grandma's old house as a five-year-old. Presently, Mom has Alzheimer’s and renal failure. She had a heart attack that left the bottom section of her heart dead. Time keeps marching on; the radio keeps playing as the world keeps turning. One gets condolences, but the pain is still there. Our children will go through this as will their children. At times, the parent has to bury the child. This should not be. Life is never fair. There will always be memories of loved ones, memories to make you laugh, cherish, and reminisce with peace. Memories can carry you to make it, "Just one more day!" After seventeen years of working on my associate’s, I'm to graduate next spring. I am accepting the truth that my mom might not make my graduation. She used to always tell me, "No one can ever take your education from you!" I graduate not just for myself, but for my mom and own children. This is challenging my children: “You can do better than me! Go beyond me!” As a mother, myself, I realize my mom wanted the same for me: Better!
Peek-a-Boo By Serina Holder
In Route By Ondrejia Scott
A Warm Visit By Ruth Anne Balderas
Awakened by a stranger that brought fear… I gently crawled out of my bed A beam of light came towards me; I was being protected. In the center of the light brought a sense of peace, happiness, and love. Being in the flesh of this world, I was blinded Nothing mattered I was home. I awoke realizing it was a dream, knowing it was real. His warm presence stained my body. I was visited by my protector from the Heavens. Tears fell….. I knew…. I believe… GOD is LOVE
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Landscape View 1/1 By Dora Nieto
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Collagraph Print (Ink)
Twins and Bikes By Adelide Ybarra Growing up, I had always heard that twins had a special bond. I never gave it much thought other than the occasional encounter and the opportunity to observe twins from a distance. So, you can imagine my joy and shock to find my first pregnancy was identical male twins. All the stories came rushing back. I wondered, would my twins have a bond of impenetrable strength? Over the years, I have witnessed the extraordinary bond my twins have with each other. It is difficult to explain because it is as if they are dancing with one another−each one knowing without a word what the next step will be. They do have siblings, but the bond between the twins goes far beyond that bond. There was only one behavior of my twins that was frustrating for all of us. They always wanted what the other twin had or wanted. If we bought toys for all the children, the twins would want the same one. It did not matter if the only difference was color. We could not convince them that arguing over one truck, because it was blue, did not make sense. Over time, when we purchased consumer goods for the twins, we would get the exact same thing, same color, and same item. This would avoid conflict and maintain harmony between them and all of us—or so we thought. I will never forget when we made the major purchase of buying the twins bikes. This purchase was well thought-out. We purchased the exact same bike—same color, same height; same make—and made sure it had the same number of gears. Any difference would bring favor to one bike. When we brought the bikes home, we stood off to the side observing their behavior, waiting for a sign of acceptance and approval for each bike. As the twins looked over the bikes, they examined them with a keen eye. Suddenly, they both looked up at each other at the exact same moment, as if they knew they were both ready. Without a word, they nodded at one another, and both hopped on their different bikes and rode away. With a sigh of relief, my husband
and I went in the house, hand in hand, feeling vindicated; we had made a successful purchase—or so we thought. A few weeks had passed since the boys received their new bikes. All the children were outside playing and riding bikes; it was a normal summer day. All seemed well, and I was conducting my normal daily routine. In my kitchen, standing over the sink washing lunch dishes, I was yanked out of my deep thought by a hard tug on my apron. Apparently, I was so deep in thought that I did not realize one of the twins was trying to talk to me. By the time he got my attention, he was frantic. He began to explain he was upset because his twin brother would not let him ride his bike. At that moment, I felt like the air had been sucked out of my chest. What on earth is this child thinking? I lost all concentration, and my day was suddenly shattered. Thoughts began to race through my head; I went over how meticulously my husband and I had made this purchase. Why were the twins fighting over the exact same bike? As the twin rambled on, I could not hear a word he was saying. I stood there staring at the wall, washing one dish after another, wondering, where did we go wrong? With every ounce of calmness I could muster up, I turned to the frantic six-year-old twin and calmly asked, “Why do you want your brother’s bike? Your bike is exactly like his. What is so special about his bike that you have to have that one?” He stood back for a moment, and I could see he was in deep thought. He knew he was going to have to give a convincing exception for his dilemma. He could see by the look on my face that he might not win this argument. As we both stood there, I could almost see the wheels churning in his head. Then he took a deep breath and said, “Well, Mom, the truth is—yesterday I left my bike in the front yard. Dad said I was grounded from riding my bike for two weeks because my bike could have been stolen.” Then he stopped, took another deep breath, brought his index finger in the air as if to point out his next thought. “But—Dad did not say I was grounded from riding my brother’s bike.”
Sunset By Melody L. Halsrud
Country Sunset By Christal Davis
My Life in College By Hillary Martinez This is my very first semester in college. I have a lot of adjusting to do with everything, especially with time. Some days I only have one class, which will give me plenty of time to study or do other things during the day, but then the following day is a completely different schedule. I have some huge gaps in between my classes, which makes time pass a little slower. My only thoughts are, “When will I get out of here?” It is something I will have to deal with and slowly but surely get through; it is such a huge difference from high school. I can really understand now what people meant when they told me it wasn’t the same. You get to pick your own schedule and decide when you want to go. You decide if you’re going to show up or not, whether you’re going to do your homework or not. It’s like whatever you do is on you now, not anybody else but yourself. I am a very shy person, if it isn’t obvious. I tend to not ask many questions and to understand on my own. It will probably haunt me during the semester if I don’t speak up and ask for help, but I’m sure I can adjust and open up a little. I always just need a little time till I can get the hang of things. I always fear if I don’t ask a question I really want to know to help me with an assignment, I will miss out and end up getting a horrible grade for something I could’ve gotten simple instructions on. I always have that same problem, and I don’t know why. I really don’t like bothering people asking for help, especially if I see them working on their own assignment. I’d rather just stick to myself and try to figure it out on my own. One thing I found really beneficial is how I can email my professor and ask questions if I need help with anything, instead of bothering her during her teaching time. I feel like I don’t get enough sleep. Sometimes I’m dozing off, finding it hard to stay up and focus. Staying up late during the summer really ruined my sleeping schedule. Sometimes it’s nearly impossible to get up in the mornings and get dressed to come to school. And some other nights I get enough sleep but
still wake up in the morning feeling tired, which means I overslept. Now that I have a lot of assignments coming up that are due sooner than I thought, I know I’m for sure going to have long nights staying up to finish homework. I always choose to do things last minute, so that says a lot. I spend most of my time after school going home, cleaning, going to the gym, then back home to shower and sleep. I just choose one day out of the week to get all my work together, study, finish assignments, and prepare for the next day. I come to school Monday through Friday. One of my biggest problems is worrying too much. I know I shouldn’t, but I do. To me, every little thing matters. I’m always trying my hardest to fix things or make things better. I always put everybody in my life before myself. I help someone every chance I get. I care about my family way too much, and if something were to go wrong, I will drop everything I am doing to help them in any way possible. I have two younger brothers. Julian is ten years old, and Jeremy is sixteen years old. It’s only those two, me, and my mom. Time seems to always be rough for us as a family; we go through a lot and are always struggling to get by. I want to make life for us so much better. I want us to have everything we need and want at the same time and not have to ask anyone for help. My goal is to graduate from college with my bachelor’s degree in respiratory care and get myself and my family together. Last but not least, something that I feel really interferes with school is transportation. I am so blessed as of right now to have one of my closest friends, Belinda, pick me up and drop me off. If it weren’t for her, I would definitely struggle on my own. I don’t have my own car. My mom has to drop my two brothers off at two different schools and then be at work by eight in the morning, and most of my classes begin at nine. So it’s really hard for her to make the extra time to bring me to school, and I completely understand. Right now I’m not so familiar with the bus routes, and to be honest, I’m not really comfortable taking the bus, especially in the neighborhood around St. Philip’s. I don’t know their community. I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong bus and go somewhere unfamiliar. Again, as of right now, I feel very blessed to say I’m content with the way things are going for me.
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Tranquility By Serina Holder
Our Judges Prose: San Juan San Miguel is the Coordinator of the Rose R. Thomas Writing Center at St. Philip’s College. He is also an Adjunct Instructor in the Communications and Learning Department. He has a Master’s Degree in English Literature from UTSA and a Bachelor of Arts Degree in English from St. Mary’s University. He enjoys traveling, cooking (and eating,) cycling, reading ,and writing but most of all basketball! He is currently in pursuit of his lifelong ambition to be an NCAA Division I Men’s Basketball Coach. Poetry: Nereida Reyes has been a staff member of the Rose R. Thomas Writing Center for fourteen years. She is a St. Philip’s graduate who received a Bachelor of Arts in English from the University of Texas at San Antonio. As a great grandmother, she still enjoys swimming, cooking, writing poetry, reading, and dismantling the myths embedded in America’s so-called generation gap. Art/Photography: Mitchell Miranda is an award-winning artist, photographer, and graduate of St. Philip’s College. He has a Bachelor of Arts in Studio Art with a minor in Great Texts of the Western Tradition and Bachelor of Science in Cultural Anthropology with a focus on World Religion from Baylor University, as well as a Master’s Degree in Middle Eastern and Eastern Mediterranean Archaeology from University of London’s University College Institute of Archaeology. A James Avery Texas Emerging Artist, his artwork has been exhibited at the Martin Museum of Art, the Hill Country Arts Foundation, and the Texas Art and Craft Fair. He will begin a PhD program in archaeology at Reading University in the fall.