The Bird is the Word: Sophisticated Schoolyard Shenanigans
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
The English Department, Publications Club, and Blog Class sponsored the second annual Poetry Competition in the Middle and Upper Schools. Poems went to Dr. Carr. She passed them on to Round #1 judges, a gallery of Humanities teachers, who culled the nearly 60 poetic entries down to 12. Then, those 12 finalists went to final judge Mr. Sarkis who decided upon a 1st place, 2nd, 3rd, and Honorable Mention. Reprinted here is the 3rd-place poem, “23,” by Junior Benjamin Snyder. Note: all 12 finalists can be seen on the bulletin board in the Upper School Lobby.
23
By Benjamin Snyder
1
2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7,
And then 8 comes in, and then 9,
Bumbling about, walks in, 10 strolls by
Cooly as it enters, 11 storms in
Angrily, though it’s unclear why, 12 is unrecognizable
As it enters, 13 tries
Not to be noticed,
Hugging the wall as it approaches, 15 misheard the receptionist,
And walked in early, 14, naturally, approaches
Confused and hesitant, 16 greatly appreciates
The opportunity,
But needs some more time before it decides
Whether or not to proceed, 17 sprints
Through,
And so does 18, thinking
It should, 19 took a wrong turn a couple of blocks ago
But should be here shortly and enter, 20 reluctantly walks
Through, 21 is just thrilled to be here
As it bounces in, 22 enters
From the back and thinks that it’s clever, and 23, seeing 22 leave, begins
To exit as well before it is called back to enter,
And is angered seeing 22 quietly gloating once it arrives.
And 24…
Is the most majestic thing that has ever entered…
But there’s no time to talk about that
Because it’s starting…
Right now.
And not a single one noticed 0 enter,
But it did,
Depending on your perspective.
Compiled by Editor Shelby Armor
The English Department, Publications Club, and Blog Class sponsored the second annual Poetry Competition in the Middle and Upper Schools. Poems went to Dr. Carr, fearless organizer and underwriter of prizes. She passed them on to Round #1 judges, a gallery of Humanities teachers, who culled the nearly 60 poetic entries down to 12. Then, those 12 finalists went to final judge Mr. Sarkis who decided upon a 1st place, 2nd, 3rd, and Honorable Mention. Reprinted here is the 2nd-place poem, “On the train ride . . .,” penned by sophomore Doreen Yuan. Note: all 12 finalists can be seen on the bulletin board in the Upper School Lobby.
On the train ride . . .
By Doreen Yuan
On the train ride of our love, if you want to get off before our time is over,
please don’t wake me up.
Let me sleep through it, and let me pretend not to know that you’re gone.
Winners compiled by Editor Shelby Armor
By Leo Milmet, reflections on the theme of love
“I don’t love you anymore. It’s not fun anymore.”
With that, she shot me down, and I died a little inside.
I’m dying of a broken heart, and I can’t sleep.
She ate my heart, and I’m watching Night of the Living Dead to keep my mind off her.
I’m eating a pint of chocolate ice cream. That was her favorite flavor.
I’m reading a poem called “Depression,” and watching The Grapes of Wrath, to keep my mind
off my depression.
Why the hell am I doing this?
I seem to love wallowing in my misery.
I try to hate her, but it seems I’ve never loved her more.
Editor: Bella Bier