Michele Oldrati // PANTOUM OF WATER: MANKIND’S VICE

Condensed into cloud, tamed by the world.
From heaven I glimpsed the beauty of an alluring orb. And its pain, I became fluffy at times. Oh, how much I loved myself then,
Kids now play with me, as if playing with spheres of love.

From heaven I glimpsed the beauty of an alluring orb. And its pain, I sometimes run downhill
Kids now play with me, as if playing with spheres of love.
The excitement and contentment of a sour future

I sometimes run downhill
Strolling down the steep gorges of rocky mountains,
The excitement and contentment of a sour future
when things go acutely awry

strolling down the steep gorges of rocky mountains,
past the alluring plains: trotting with my friends and family
when things go acutely awry
the debris of destruction, the pest

past the alluring plains: trotting with my friends and family
where the disaster happens. Pollution? Worse,
the debris of destruction, the pest
The shadowed shipwreck of a shivering shame

where the disaster happens. Pollution? Worse,
now back home with the minuscul and immense swimmers
the shadowed shipwreck of a shivering shame
and we all rise to meet our destiny again.

now back home with the minuscul and immense swimmers.
I became fluffy at times. Oh, how much I loved myself then,
and we all rise to meet our destiny again.
Condensed into a cloud, tamed by the world.

Maya Anand // WINDWARD

I sit still among the weary, huddled masses longing for a place to rest,

My leg bounces rapidly, filled with anticipation and anxiety,

My brother wakes and tugs my hand, a whisper to my ear,

I tell him we come from a place once called home, now just a terror,

But soon, there would be more to see and more to do,

That our lives would change with this new land,

That our hearts could fill with joy once again,

That we would be happier soon,

That we came to escape a life of dread,

Leaving our pain in the wind.

Matteen T // VOID

There he stands, by himself, alone,
Leaning against his red Pontiac Trans Am.
Smoke rises in the air, a cigarette in his hand.
He stares down in contemplation,
With his leather jacket he is locked against the door. The sun falls in the so near distance;
It burns against the front of his body,
His sunglasses mirroring the pain.
Darkness fades into the world around him,
Casting behind him, alongside his shadow,
The beast of the night consumes him.
He drops his cigarette, out of his hand,
Rubs it into the pavement with his boot.
He enters his vehicle, leaving his past behind him. The 1977 Firebird welcomes him,
And he drifts into the endless void.

Jalessi Aviles // THANK YOU

Every day and night
You have been with me through the fight
You never go without a smile
And always go the extra mile

You are so strong
You have raised me
For so long

I couldn’t ask for a better mom.
You never yell. You are always calm

Your love has never fallen short
Thank you for the endless support

Claire Johnson // CHANGE IS NOTHING

Change is nothing,
Unless
you bring it before you.

Shape it into a beautiful sculpture,
and fill
all
ats cracks and hollows

Change is an
intangible
wonder

When brought inside us all,
It is pumped
through our heart,
Brushed
through our hair,
Felt
in our bones.
And all the way
at the tips of our fingers

Change is
Nothing

Unless we all work together
Fighting the fight
With the sweet, sweat on our brow
to bring out the best in each
Mother,
Father, and
Brother.

Megan L. // IN THE GAME

In the game,
it is all about applying your knowledge
on par with in math or history class,
except this time
on a court, a field, a track.

It’s about the focus, the concentration,
your determination to reach into and remain
in the zone.

It’s about enduring the never-ending pain,
squeezing out every ounce of energy that you possess,
pushing yourself to the absolute limit.

It’s about the struggle that you face,
point by point, game by game, round by round.
Your positive attitude (or lack of it)
determines every passing second.

The main ambition is to come out triumphant.
But at the end of the day
it’s not the outcome that matters.
You may have lost,
you may have won,
but putting all of that aside,
you’ve gained something more valuable:
you’ve learned.

You accept the result,
knowing that you’ve done your utmost.
And you pat yourself on the back
because you never play
at the expense of others.
Even though perhaps your opponent has.

Nevertheless, the fact still stands that
to play with sportsmanship
and lose
gives you more medals, trophies, and awards
than to play without sportsmanship
and win.

Only a true athlete may understand.

Catalina L. // IMMORTAL BLAZE

The fog surges,
the sunrise awaits.
Complete serenity,
Rain, clarity
Yearning a shift.
The vapor cascades down,
Warmth, lucidity
a place
home to a dove.

Enchanting,
Captivating
Enduring the luminosity,
letting yourself immerse,
through the fog
the rain
The city of eternal spring.

Till nightfall,
and sunset
when the city becomes viable.
Light surges from the mountains,
overlooking the beacon
Sending the reek of death beyond
the enchantment
at the cusp of your fingers
Medellin

A shocking paradise
Where dark meets outstanding light.
Acquires a feeling of intimacy
Everyone ecstatic,
Joyful
content
Lights glowing
Water glistening
enchantment
Colombia.

Benjamin Liu // ON THE EMPTY STREET

An empty street
lies
next
to a small
diner,
rectangular
and
straight.
The figure
behind
the counter
tightens his hand
around
a mug
of coffee,
and
watches
the wisps
waft
and disappear.
The sun
will soon
swing
back
above
the horizon;
‘round the panes
of glass
of which
light
spills from.
The
terrarium
on
an empty
street.

Anubhab Das // REGRET

As the man drank the soda, he felt the sting of regret, And began to realize the repercussions of his actions. Slowly, the tears began to wash down his face. Then came the consequences of his transgression.
His sensei came into the fray. His sensei’s presence was like a raging bull. The man got on his knees and bowed in desperation. The slew of emotions made him want to die.
As he begged for forgiveness, His sensei smiled. Then proceeded to pull out a sword. The man became saturated in fear. But he was not given the time to utter a word.
Then he felt the sting of regret.
Author’s note: This poem was originally titled “Soda” because it originally was an apology poem in which somebody drinks someone else’s soda and apologizes about how they were wrong for doing so. The people who read it described how it was very vague and in general it was just difficult to understand what the poem was trying to portray and who was speaking in addition to what was going on within the poem. This made me change the story within the poem such that it was more specific an easier to tell what it was actually referring to with a man drinking a soda and then getting cut down by his sensei for whatever reason. Since the actual poem got more specific I changed the title to something a bit more vague like “Regret” and I felt it fit the new one better that was less centered around soda. Additionally, during revision I added a line break in the last stanza between “As he begged for forgiveness” and “His sensei smiled” in order to dramatize the second line and highlight the tonal shift from that point onward in the poem to a darker, more serious tone. Furthermore, I used consonance (His sensei’s presence) to establish how foreboding and intimidating the sensei’s presence is. The reason for why the sensei kills the man and the man feels regret is left ambiguous as it is not directly relevant to the theme of the poem. The poem is suppose to express how the consequences of a person’s action will always catch up to them and they will receive retribution accordingly. This new theme was really surprising to me as before with “Soda” the tone and theme were relatively light hearted, so this change to a darker tone was surprise to me. In terms of what I like about the poem, I really like how at the end I repeated part of the first line and made it pack that extra punch in the final line of the stanza and properly end the poem.

Ana Burwell // WHERE MY MEMORIES GO

Every day unchanging, Every fragment of a memory hoisted upon a pedestal. My petrification suggests those fragments may become forgettable.
What if those few conspicuous memories abandon me? Do I preserve the shards if the cuts are their only guarantee?
I tell myself to forget the past, I won’t remember the present, though. I’d like to take it all in, without wondering Where my memories will go.