Viewfindings 2.0

Viewfindings 2.0

Viewfindings Volume 2

Viewfindings Volume 2

VIEWFINDINGS 2.0

A PHOTOPOETRY COLLABORATION May 2022 Viewfindings 2.0 represents a collaboration between David Oxton’s 27 Photo students and Anna Finch’s 27 Sophomore English students. While the viewer may appreciate the paired photo and poem individually, considered together these works combine to blossom into an additional aesthetic experience where the whole becomes greater than the sum of its parts.

front cover photograph: Bear Brooks back cover photograph: Lily Kolm

Photo by Natalie Garcia

Lids Aby Joyner Off and on I switch from me to her The her that they accept The her that is not me A shadow casts upon me Yet no one can see it For the light blinds them From reality My eyes graze the floor beneath The common sensation The familiarity of it all Incessant rambling in my mind Nothing and everything The indifference is confusing I move Yet I don't feel myself doing so Watching myself exist In the ordinary Bitter ignorance Of it all

Photo by Christian Carretero

Brave Face Makayla Moriarty They tell me that I am strong, That nothing ever gets to me, But, it does.

I feel the pressure.

The shadowy figure follows me around, Brings me pain.

I feel the pressure.

Scared to say or do the wrong thing.

Scared to sound like a fool, Scared to offend someone.

I feel the pressure.

No matter what happens, It lingers on in my brain for days, weeks, months.

The figure will remind me of something from the past, as soon as I think I can relax.

Never able to watch TV in peace, or even be alone.

Intrusive thoughts take over, and all I want to do is cry.

I feel the pressure.

Every conversation, I think about for weeks.

Was that mean?

Did I sound stupid?

WHY DOES EVERYONE HATE ME? They believe I am afraid of nothing, But my shadowy figure reminds me daily, I am afraid of everything.

Photo by Lily Alibrandi

Ocean Waves Victoria Liu We slide down the Banister but miss The clouds and Crash.

What should be a mess of Sharp corners and Cacophony are in reality Sad pieces Rocks crashed upon by the Waves And grinded down By the salt Something blurred and scrubbed Appeared in its wake Ink on paper Marred by the same Ocean waves

Photo by Kate MacKeen

the woman and her control Bruin Brayshaw as if the control wasn’t enough, sounds of screaming, insults, demean, shame,

…,

rang through the house. you must remember your strength, her therapist repeated twice a week. sloth-like, she walked to the black box nailed to the wall, surrounded by nothing. just to make the sound stop SHE was doing this just to make the threats stop. her hand closed around the black handle, shaking and nervous, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, silence, just for a second, then, regret. screaming, insults, demeaning and shameful words maxed out the volume on her end. she was hungry and had a headache and she did not care what the telephone had to shout. she held it to her ear for a second, then dropped it, denting the wall along the way. the further she walked, the quieter the sound penetrated her ears. she went made herself a bagel and turned on the radio, because as if control wasn’t enough, she finally could walk away.

Photo by Daniela Hamel

Falling Through Life Meghan Palmer Falling.

That feeling, when your stomach drops from its shelf, as the roller coaster plummets towards the cement, or the airplane jerks in the turbulence.

Or for me, When I wake up…

When I get dressed…

When I live my life…

I fall.

With every breathe, With every step, My mind plunges deeper into the dark abyss of empty thoughts and hollow loneliness that has now consumed my brain.

There seems to be no bottom, There seems to be no end, Forever falling further.

Photo by Madeline McCormick

Magnitude Elly Gulick Before her limbs could catch up, her soul had outgrown her body; gears yawned to life, churning ceaselessly.

But when the time came, her feet grew until even her shoes didn’t fit her anymore.

There was a time for beetling across the sky on nimble toes, and then there was now, where she flexed her muscles to leap from one world to another in a single step— where her height swallowed her whole.

She was a clay vase pinched into existence to hold big things and keepsakes and aspirations so now, she grows into the size of her soul.

Photo by David Moriarty

What Comes At Night Addison Jay As I count the hours Of the day, I wait patiently For the sun to fall.

I close my eyes.

One night I dream calm, The next I dream excitement.

Some nights I dream happy, But others I dream scared.

Every outcome, Unexpected As each night, Is a mystery.

No matter the dream, Whether good or bad, I am grateful every day, To be able to find out What comes at night.

Photo by Tiffany Touchette

Beauty of spontaneity Michael Ranaldi It hides in the nooks and crevices of life For time and time on end sitting, waiting The rarity of its appearances gives it a sort of incomprehensible value For if it was too often seen your eyes wouldn’t know light from dark And if it was too often touched your skin wouldn't know soft from rugged And if it was too often heard your ears wouldn't know the difference Between a harmonious symphony and a treacherous screech It's not a physical object that you can grasp and contain within a concealed box For if it was you would take it out of that box and over utilize it Until it became so mundane that you would conceal it in that same box Only this time you would never open it again So, it roams freely, flowing unbothered And any creature that chases it realizes it cannot be caught Because as you reach to grab it rolls right out of your hand Like river water

Photo by Xavia Banigan

The Stem Jessica Marquis Rocks cover the whole ground Sharp, dark, and rough But that did not stop the stem from making its sound With no soil, air, or sun The stem pushed and pushed its way through the dark And soon it was out It started small, but it kept going Ready to stand out from the crowd And soon the stem would be a beautiful rose Despite growing from almost nothing It emerged from the darkness more than proud Never wilting for a second The rose was ready to take on the world And spread its new essence To dark things all around

Photo by Chelsea Cashin

Don’t Let Go Tyler Maille When all was together and all was with him Comfort attached to him as it always had before, Light shined through the balloon like a lightbulb Igniting the fire of excitement through tiny pupils, And the opportunity was held tight in his grasp.

Don’t let go It could rise past your view for a long time, But everything that goes up Must come down again

Photo by Sofia Colden

Across the water Christian Oliveira Watching out and about Seeping doubt Ripples of loneliness run up your skin * Then you find That you have been blind To that, that has been there all along Your forlornness is scattered And your life is no longer shattered

Photo by Matt Collina

One Way Colin Maloney Everyone moving in the same direction No time for recollection No time for thanks It is time to slow down But you find yourself still moving It is too late Your whole life was spent moving In the same direction Never the time To sit back and see the big red barn

Photo by MingGe Daley

Heartbeat of the Heat Simon Zhao

What does the ship know?

Besides what he is told.

Floating.

Finding.

Frightening.

Until the water is hot, Boiling the last stand of slots.

Crippling his engine, Consoling his heart, Conspiring that the weight of the world is his to confront, And it is only his.

But there is someone.

There is a light.

Beyond the infinite light-years, And millions of stars, Through the radiant nova, And the dying star, In the deepest of that silent bleakness, A starship Awaits For his companion To share his weight.

Photo by Eliza Gibbs

“Sorry I’m closed.”

Lila Graves Closed.

Hidden in the deepest corners of the world A compilation of memories roam Camouflaged behind bright signs screaming to turn back Our eyes instantly drawn to the…

Silver. The sign of Wisdom. each worn hair filled to the brim with knowledge wispy, but strong drawing with a shine not lost We see the surface…

Navy. A postcard of New yesterdays and Old tomorrows. where they’ve been, where I haven’t thinned at the knee sign of a life lived Focus centered on the…

Red, specifically. Screaming to be seen. fiery and eye catching stop sign worn at the waist almost like an invitation from years of burning disappointment Our society notices the superficial colors of our world Never searching beneath these ombreys of entity We are all Masked but not hidden.

No one is actually closed, we are just waiting for our exterior to be broken.

Photo by Amanda Hanrahan

The Flood Cora Knoell He sets out.

Going somewhere, But nowhere.

His mind clear, Yet opaque.

His destination known, But with no way to get there, He stands.

Stagnant.

Like a puddle, He waits.

As if a rainstorm will ensue and morph him into a stream.

He sets off.

Flowing to his destination.

Swiftly.

But more rain comes.

Surge.

Rush.

Flood.

He swims.

Although he struggles to keep his head above water, He fights.

Until he can see the shore.

And when he gets there, He stands on high ground, Overlooking his past and searching for his future.

Photo by Lily Kolm

Further Away Morgan Proops As the rain flies down to the ground Two odd lonely people reach for eternity Only a hint of bliss is to be found In this time of alternity Time can go by so slowly Time can be too much When he feels her light touch Her hand so coldly When she leaves Pride can hurt him too As his soul grieves There is nothing he can do Rolling on down to Heartbreak Hotel With his spirit now For Rent In hope to refind his holy grail He only finds a new place to dwell

Photo by Mikey Marchese

The Search Nicholas Berglund Are you there?

Can you hear me?

I'm waiting For a sign Through the trees The light is shining Through the branches Waiting, wondering Can you hear me?

Photo by Miffy Wang

Stars in the Blue Sky Isaac Stern Stars in the blue sky On a cloudy morning Make me wish I could fly Without due warning Though the stars are not lit And the beach is bland and faceless Jobs must be done, and I cannot quit Yes, I must continue however graceless Photos on the wall Make me remember a better time When stars would not fall But shine

Photo by Brian Zheng

Sitting, Waiting, Wishing Maggie O’Gannon Townhouses and tall buildings standing side by side alongside the iconic Commonwealth Ave in Kenmore Square, the definition of close quarters, like a family confined to their house for several months.

Sitting, trying to remain calm in a period of chaos.

As he stood on the sidewalk aimlessly, he began to ponder what this world Has become, like an artist waiting for the light bulb of inspiration to appear.

Waiting, for something exciting and joyful to happen after a period of darkness The children, parents, businessmen & women, chefs, and everyone else in the world Wishing, that the world and society itself could return back to the way it once was an eternity ago Everyone is Sitting, Waiting, Wishing for the future

Photo by Bear Brooks

The Deer Hunter Don Xing He stands in the silence on his own, The suffocating silence.

Like a predator Repressing his presence, Holding his breath, Fixing the tenacity of his heart upon The frailty of his prey.

He unveils his fangs, Primed to strike.

Only to discern That the silhouette of his quarry Reveals a phantom Of his own.

Photo by Emily Storer

Midas Touch Xavia Banigan

They tell her she’s beautiful,

They tell me I’m beautiful,

With skin that glows like gold

A golden girl.

In the sunlight

They compliment my tan skin,

As if touched by Midas himself.

My long hair,

They envy her long, brown hair,

My blue eyes.

With waves like the beach

But when I study myself,

That fall gracefully past her shoulders.

I see a girl melting

They admire the way her eyes sparkle

From the expectation to be perfect

With Aphrodite’s radiance.

Like a piece of gold in a kiln.

They tell me I’m beautiful, Blind to the dulling light inside

Photo by Paulina Arce

Granny’s old chairs Carlos Marte Santana Granny’s brown wooden chairs, Bring happy memories Like when she gave us her change on hot Saturday afternoons To get ice cream from Bert’s Which saved us from the sun’s blazing heat.

We would sit down on the warm chairs While licking with our hot moist tongues along the cold and rich dessert.

While we were having fun just starting to live our lives, granny’s life was slowly coming to an end, but Even though on the outside Granny was frail, she still had the glee of A young girl for her final years.

When she passed I didn’t know how to react She would’ve liked for us to be happy and not to cry But how can I contain this great grief And seeing the brown paint flaking off of the wooden chair Sucks me into this deep depression From not being able to see granny ever again.

Photo by Corey Aubuchon

Fading Luminance Ethan Huang Autumn winds: lie still Rust and time, tear away all Wonder what remains.

Photo by Lilly Baumfield

Trapped Sara Whitlock Trapped Waiting here.

Patiently.

For something good to happen I stare into the light But there is nothing gleaming out.

Nothing for me.

My family told me “There is a light at the end of every tunnel.”

I refuse to feel it, But truly I could not feel anything inside of me Even if I tried.

The darkness in my mind haunts me Yet, I will never escape.

No light inside of me No matter how bright Could ever heal this wound.

I am inside of my own mind, Trapped.

Photo by Lakshmi Bogelli

The Stairwell Andrew Almquist Step by step Gazing, smiling, walking Languages of the body Radiating excellence She impresses Speaking to everyone Without saying a word Her confidence Ripples Like a sound wave As it bounces Step by step Down the stairwell

Photo by Ryan Delay

Caution Tyler Beliveau An aged rusted sign Warning danger Waiting for its next victim Careful in the steps I take Developing a faint tear Standing from afar Frozen in fear Like an iceberg in the winter Wanting to come near Amidst a feeling of curiosity Strangely pulling me forward Blinded by its true meaning Fighting the urge Escaping the thoughts of Pain and fear

Photo by Makayla Moriarty

Finally Free Riley Thurston I wanted to escape…

The more I speculated about life Focusing on the uncontrollable I felt the continuing urge to flee for refuge From this family of strangers From my teachers who knew I had no potential but lied, From “friends” who said they understood my insecurities but turned around in confusion I felt like an alien surrounded by humans No one could understand me But when I swing… everything changes Pumping my legs until they are nearly numb Gripping the chains until their marks are imprinted on my hands like wrinkles, The only moment Without judgment Without anxiety Without jealousy When I am free from the world around me For a blink of an eye, When I finally let go