Portraits 

Reflections 

By Emily

It’s fading, the rain has passed.
Only the little things are left behind:
The faint cry of birds
Broken tree branches,
And puddles, soaking into the ground. 

The water spilled everywhere,
Under the bridge,
Into the grass,
And it even gathered on the asphalt – underneath the library.

The sun shines,
Breaking through the clouds – staring down onto the earth,
Peering at it,
Let it’s light shine

Cement creeps up on beauty,
And the water fights to keep it out.

Architecture

Landscape

By Marisa

Cars travel gracefully
awaiting their destination.
Who knows where they will end up
or how long it will take.
One after another they pass by.

Red lights, white lights,
blurs through the air.
The sun shines down
on the machines
gliding them along their path.
They find their way,
their location
following glistening rays-
a helping hand. 

Feet out the window,
hair blowing in the wind,
fresh air enters as music exits.
Every car for itself,
but together they travel
along the same road.
Watching the same trees,
feeling the same breeze.

Carousel
By Chelsea

faster faster faster
 she would cry

at seven 
     the world is nothing
but a playground 

a horse’s peeling white mane
 is cool
against her flushed cheek 

choosing to ignore the warnings
      her hands stretched to the sky 

the annular lights, flashing
         conjuring up a feeling
unsuitable to the weak of stomach 

an upbeat yet dismal melody 
whirs around in her brain 

the gold
and faux-finish-jewels
      the glamour
            violating beneath
her blonde curls. 

a sugar-coated coma.

The Invisible Ones
By Mitsue

Life swirls and stops and fades to gray.
It whirls and breaks and slides away.
And everyone knows what’s hidden behind
His fresh pressed shirt.
And everyone speaks in silence 
Of what lies beneath his skin. 

Most murmur in circles
Behind his vanishing back. 
And no one says what’s needed 
To make him turn around. 

So keep talking, he’ll keep walking
Yes, keep talking, he’ll keep walking

In the Beautiful Streets of Havana

By Anastasia

…In the beautiful streets of Havana, 
As I walked in the shimmering light
Through the ruined colonial center, 
I beheld a magnificent sight:
Overlooking the street and the square,
Wrapped in sorrowful splendor and gloom, 
Two forsaken, imperial buildings – 
Solemn sentinels – silently loom. 

Time has put them to gaze at the city, 
And the glory of ages protect,
To remind of the grandeur forgotten, 
And of citadels, strong and erect…
In the sorrowful streets of Havana 
Grief has settled at windows and gates,
But the regal, imperial house 
Uncomplainingly, silently waits. 

Skillful brushes of talented artists 
Long have fallen from quivering hands…
In the parlor a heavenly angel 
The onslaught of the ages withstands.
In the alleys and streets of Havana 
One can see these abandoned remains
Of cathedrals and forts of the Spanish, 
Though with years the dignity wanes. 

Grass is peeping through cracks in the parlor,
Rain is falling, like tears of Time,
That is mourning its dying creation
And with vengeance condemning the crime.
With a rancorous hand it will scatter 
All the marble, the granite, and gold,
Wreaking cruel and bitter destruction 
On the figures enveloped in mold... 

Stars will sparkle again in the evening, 
And Havana will dream of the light,
That will enter the beautiful city 
And demolish the shroud of night.

Editor-in-Chief: Andrea

Web Editor and Design: Andrea                                                            

Former Staff: Guimel, Freya

Faculty Advisors

Photography - Vince Nanni
Literature - Janice Landrum