I lie in the back Of a dusty shelf Lonely and unread, Waiting For someone To notice me.
No one ever does. I am left Alone And forgotten
The saying goes “Don’t judge a book by its cover.” Clearly No one listens
For I sit unnoticed A plain brown cover, Holding a story vivid And unread.
Natalie Chen // LIBRARY BOOK
Emily Narouz // BROKEN
Faith is like a thin, crystal piece of glass
But so is love
and hope
and trust.
One little mistake,
and it shatters into a thousand pieces.
Broken forever.
It will never go back to perfect.
The shards will remain scattered in their heart,
piercing them with every heartbeat.
Varun Sasisekharan // TOOTHBRUSH
Fear,
the only feeling
I have ever
felt.
Waiting…
for ages,
until finally,
nevermind.
Sad,
Stranded,
Forgotten,
Frightened,
my life
miserable.
Bright and early
I am woken with
a splash.
The churning faucet
tells me it is time.
Water all over,
then,
paste,
oozing through
every crevice.
Darkness…
rubbed back and forth,
every second hurts, but
It won’t stop.
Another gush
of water, then
back
to waiting
until nightfall.
My life,
an endless cycle.
I am unable
to escape.
Mahima // THE UNIVERSE
An enveloping darkness
With no beginning and no end.
It rules with an iron fist,
Like a dictator with the world at their feet.
You bow down to Its every command
And are blinded like a prisoner seeing sunlight
For the first time in decades
As you realize the limitless
Power It wields over you.
It decides the fate of all that inhabit it,
And could erase you from history
With a mere flick of a finger.
But It won’t.
Because you are
An insignificant speck
On a rock hurling around a dying star.
The world continues
Even if your world has come crashing down.
You will soon be buried by bigger problems
Like the city of Pompeii
Under a layer of ash.
The grains of time are
Slowly slipping away
For you.
Until one moment
When you will cease to exist.
The Universe won’t forget you,
Because it never even knew you.
Isabelle Lim // A REQUIEM FOR UNREQUITED MIDDLE SCHOOL LOVE
It’s okay that the only looks you give me
are glares of contempt.
‘Cause your eyes are like
the deepest pools of melted chocolate
from which I drink
to vanquish my perpetual thirst.
And of course I don’t mind that
the only thing you’ve ever said to me
besides
Can I borrow your homework?
was that my sneakers were lame.
‘Cause
even though you’re laughing
(at me)
I’m blinded by your smile
the kind that you see in those Colgate ads.
And it’s totally fine that
you never bothered to thank me the day
that I gave you the answers
to that test
or the test after that.
‘Cause when you say my name
(it’s Miguel, by the way
not Michael)
it flickers from your lips
a song as saccharine sweet as
the final bell on a Friday.
And my heart pummels my ribcage
threatening to sprout wings
and spring from my chest.
And since
none of those things vex me
in the slightest
I was
uh
wondering
if
maybe
you wanna-
What?
Oh.
No, the quiz is tomorrow.
Anmianyao // CATS
I like cats
Regardless of their fur color
I listen out for the cautious footsteps
Or try to capture the unpredictable figures hiding in the dark
They peek into world in the gap of times
and draw footprints under the roof of cement
They stand by the gesture of independence
Without abandoning the ambitions of world
Cats are like me
Or I am like a cat
My heart deep inside yearns to escape the earth
But lack of courage to forgive and forget the world
Balance towards the world
People live with the absolute independence
Only see the endless sparks in the mirror
Secular people see the objects themselves only
And the others observe both
Cat and me
We enjoy the morning warm light
and cross through the charming night breeze
Nothing really matters in this world
As long as cat and me continue
Daydreaming by the groovy stove
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.
Erin Cullinan // THAT OTHER GIRL
I stare at the Girl that lives inside the mirror.
She always follows my lead,
She never strays from my command.
The reflective glass inside my room holds Her prisoner.
She does not complain, for She cannot.
I control what She says, when She moves, and how She looks.
She controls how I feel about myself: She feeds on my insecurities.
Our relationship is symbiotic in most ways:
She cannot exist without me
And without Her what would I be?
I cannot exist without Her and without me what would She be? Our relationship is symbiotic in most ways: I control how she feels about Herself: I feed on Her insecurities. She controls what I say, when I move, and how I look.
But I do not complain, for I cannot. I am a prisoner of the reflective glass in Her room. I never stray from what She says. I always follow Her lead. I forever stare at the Girl who lives outside of the mirror.
Youngseo Yi // MEMORY
My husband and I share a place by the tree.
One day, the sound of his voice calls out to me.
From out in the fields, through a window to the sink,
He calls me to come, to sit, and to think.
I yearn for his company, and seek it I will.
I leave my one dish unwashed by the sill.
I pluck a flower from a vase, his favorite, marigold
And leave my silent house, lonesome, barren and old.
I traverse up the hills, to the crux of the mound.
With the tree’s greenest of leaves shadowing the ground.
I watch the branches sway, with gentle idleness.
The sturdy bark of the tree stands crooked and timeless.
I place the marigold to the feet of my love,
When a gentle whisper calls out to me from above.
The leaves rustle, fervent, a cacophony of sound
The memories of bliss come rushing around.
I once sat under this tree, with my love by my side,
We ate lunch and knitted, or at least he had tried.
He snipped the yarn short, too small to be used.
“The yarn’s better this way,” he told me, amused.
The flower sits still, by the ground of the tree.
The only one to see this beautiful flower is me.
I yearn for his company, mourn for his choice,
Our place by the tree where I last heard his voice.
I come here to sit, to think and to grieve.
A part of me still wonders and wants to believe,
That if I was a better woman to the man that I love,
Then maybe he wouldn’t have brought his soul above.