The Bird is the Word: Sophisticated Schoolyard Shenanigans
By Renée
Our names
Are us.
They’re poetic in meaning.
Some common,
Some unique.
Sometimes we choose them;
Sometimes they’re chosen for us:
A family heirloom,
A memorial,
An aspiration,
An inspiration.
Our nicknames we give to those we know.
A name becomes beautiful when it belongs to someone we love.
We present ourselves through our names.
We are behind our signatures.
Us: complex and ever changing beings
Represented by our names.
Editor: Claire Jenkins
By Ivana Crie
I am afraid of relationships.
Of love.
Of being dependant.
Of leaning on someone
who isn’t leaning back
because the moment they step away,
I am unsupported.
And when I crash,
the ground will shake;
tidal waves will form,
and my world will turn itself
inside out.
I am afraid of people like you,
who make it so easy to fall in love
and so hard to forget.
Editor: Claire Jenkins
By Leo Milmet, with anonymous collaboration
Breakfast.
Jim and I, with our son John and daughter Lynn.
Daddy Jim started acting strange.
Then he started talking strange.
“I’m going to watch a sp-sport t-todd-ay, where they hit a b-ball in the hole.”
“Golf?”
“G-g-gah-lffff? No, Victoria, n-no, not g-goh-lf.”
John said he was having a stroke.
The paramedics came running.
Doctors at the hospital asked many questions.
“You got a wife?”
Daddy Jim gave no answer.
The doctor said, “Any children? A baby?”
Jim said, “D-doll.”
I asked Daddy Jim, “Doll? What doll? Do you have a doll?”
He answered, “Baby. Baby…Babydoll.”
So, I said, “Babydoll? Who is your baby doll?”
Jim said, “Victoria.”
Me.
Then he closed his eyes and died.
I cried.
Editor: Claire Jenkins
By Peter Kadel
Pop.
Formerly of snap, crackle, and
Pop.
The prequel to lock it.
Pop.
Previously associated with soda.
Since divorced.
But some say they are still together.
Pop.
Once conjoined with over.
Pop.
Had a brief affair with corn.
Pop.
Used to go with weasel.
Pop.
Once involved with up.
Pop.
In the business of ads.
Pop.
Editor: AJ Patencio
By Claire Jenkins
Gentle reminders to take care of yourself and de-stress from the tests–AP’s and Semester Assessments. Here are some tips!
Pet a cat, for you feline lovers.
Pet a dog, for you canine lovers.
Ride a horse, for you equine lovers.
Eat some junk food, for you calorie lovers.
Drink some tea, for you herbal lovers.
Listen to some music, for you rhythm lovers.
Go on a hike, for you nature lovers.
Light some candles, for you scent lovers.
Play some video games, for you technology lovers.
Take a nap, for you sleep lovers.
Watch a movie, for you cinema lovers.
Take a deep breath, for you oxygen lovers.
Editor: Renée Vazquez
By Leo Milmet
Dark.
Cold.
Bleak.
Nothingness.
That’s all that ever was.
All that ever will be.
All else is just distraction.
The window you look out of and the images on television are no different.
Fiction and fantasy.
Masks of darkness.
But nothing’s really there.
It’s just a second away from destruction.
Your mother, your father, your greatest friends–all of us.
We are nothing.
Editor: Renée Vazquez
By Mel N. Colley
We all experience
loss and
heartbreak,
which are so easily generated.
Many things
can be lost
that would shatter a heart:
A job
that was desperately needed,
in order to help a hospitalized mother;
A house
torn apart by a ravaging storm
that no one saw coming
and no one could stop;
A beloved pet
who was the only joy in
a lonely woman’s life;
A child
whose depression
a single mother failed to see;
A best friend
who went to the hospital for a stomach ache
when it was so much worse;
A father
who was killed
by a stray bullet from a distant gun;
And you,
who was the light of my life,
then the power went out.
Editor: Brennan Nick
By Heywood U. Cuddleme
I don’t understand
why I miss you so much.
Maybe it was the
cuddles
that we would sneak
out of the view of
judging eyes.
Or the looks we would
give each other
almost as if
we could read each other’s
mind.
But then
suddenly
you started to
care.
Less
and
less.
Almost as if
you were bored?
But it couldn’t end like that though, could it?
Yes.
And you were too afraid to
admit it.
To me?
Or to yourself?
Both?
You shattered me.
A part of me will always
break
a little inside
when I think of you.
But I don’t wish to reverse time.
I don’t wish to go back
and fix what you broke.
I don’t want what we had.
I want someone who cares for me
even when I don’t.
Editor: Renée Vazquez
By Anne
Have you ever woken up?
Have you ever slept?
Do you know what you want?
Do you mind regret?
Would you rather forget it all?
What would you have done?
If you could, would you do it again?
Editor: Bella Bier
The English Department, Publications Club, and Blog Class sponsored the second annual Poetry Competition in the Middle and Upper Schools. Reprinted here is the Honorable Mention, “Old,” by 8th-grader Jessica Denyer. All 12 finalists can be seen on the bulletin board in the Upper School Lobby.
Old
By Jessica Denyer
Old collectibles hold more memories than any eye.
See the unseen and hear the unheard.
Books have seen more tears than any shrink.
Paper has held words that have been thought to say but never were.
Crumpled, thrown, and used to wipe away the tears.
Rocking chairs have seen more sunsets from an old porch than the people who rest in them.
Stopwatches have seen more pocket lint and business meetings than the money discussed.
Coffee tables have seen more beer spilled on game days than the stadium itself.
The 1942 Chevrolet convertible lying on the lawn has heard more karaoke singing than any corner bar.
But now most of these items retire in attics of old homes
Or consignment stores that are like retirement homes for the unwanted objects
Or on dusty driveways waiting to be bought and go on the next adventure.
Some of these things now reside on dirt roads
Where the unwanted things go to die
Or a lawn where they may proudly rust and depart,
For old things don’t last forever but memories last a lifetime.
Winning poems compiled by Blog Editor Shelby Armor