The Tenth Muse

Science Park High School Literary Magazine

2014-2015

The Tenth Muse “So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”

---Shakespeare

Advisor

Mr. Townsend

Student Editors Sofia Amorim, Romina Generali, and Giuseppe Ceballos

The Tenth Muse is dedicated to Romina Generali, Sofia Amorim, Zarina Etheridge, Edith and Philann White, and Giuseppe Ceballos.

Table of Contents

Title Author Page(s)

Opposition Giuseppe Ceballos 1 Bitter Sweet Philann White 2 Behind the Veil Sofia Amorim 3 Borders Romina Generali 4 As We Grow Edith White 5 Growing Apprehension Irina Acha 6 Features of Earth Elizabeth Rappleyea 7 Luna’s Mourning Alcides Costa 8 Endless Love Cynthia Narainsammy 9 Just Maybe Jacquelyn Villasenor 10 Pure Love Laesha Zambito 11 Lone Journey Shaylah Ware 12 The Living Dead Jorge Liviapoma 13 In The Dark Ricardo Amador 14 My Guardian Angel Jonpierre Calva 15 Darken Paths Damarys Sanchez 16 Broken Chidimma Enekebe 17 Loving Hate Brianna Martins 18 Divinity Rocio Solórzano 19 Inept Yet Capable Jonathan Velasco 20 Valuation Evaluation Americo Rodrigues 21 Disaster’s Reality Claudine Nwadiozor 22

Wicked Nature Gustavo Cardoso 23 Hated Love Karina Salas 24 Dexter Odalys Quito 25 Life Goes On Sasha Okon 26 The Event Taylor Leake 27 Aimless Rayner Abreu 28 About a Sonnet Ashley Caetano 29 Worth It All Corrina Hunter 30 Turn of the Tides Jorge Espinoza 31 A Bittersweet Farewell Brandon Pollard 32 Corrupted Good Louis Yepez 33 Moral Harmony Janay McDougald 34 Oath Amber Floyd 35 Nonexistent Love Kayla Castanheira 36 Deceived By Those Indira Sawh 37 Volleyball Kathryn Jones 38 A Summer Blue Mary Conza 39 Human Nature Samaiyah Quddus 40 Changing Faces Tiara Wilson 41 Identical Flowers Zarina Etheridge 42 Endless Cycle Denyson Dukievicz 43 Unlucky Reality Lisa Okon 44 Pepperoni Nkemdilim Okeke 45 Rain and Rainbows Baseema Williams 46 A Lovely Depression Jonathan Molina 47

Dark Love Genesys Dutan 48 Break Out Deborah Oravbiere 49 Close Distance Bruno Brito 50 Loosing Time Janya McDougald 51 Black Sheep Ahniyah Batts 52 Leukemia Sarah Oliveira 53 Impulsive Intelligence Jorge Maneiro 54 Truth Behind Clouds Adegoke Fakorede 55 Dialectic Andres Monclut 56 Dark Lagoon Alexsander Lorenzo 57 Love’s Poison Ashley Flores 58 Hopeful Confliction Shahirah LeBlanc 59 Love’s Knife Kevin Hernandez 60 Painful Pleasure Stacey Avelar 61 Love Through Nature Taylor Buckalew 62 I’m Stuck Joshua Liviapoma 63 David Webb Bruno Brito 64 - 68 Old Man Winston Sofia Amorim 69 - 72 Paris Ricardo Amador 73 - 77 Luna Shahirah LeBlanc 78 - 84 Summer Adventures in Italy Zarina Etheridge 85 - 95

Florentine Reflections by Mr. Townsend

The waning sun deserts the orphaned river Grown progressively opaque with time. The solemn bells of monasteries chime, Calling the pious brothers to deliver Benedictions, wafting heavenwards. A couple strolls beside the Arno, past The closed Uffizi, moving through the hordes That survey street-side souvenirs en masse. The Ponte Vecchio remains secure Under the steady beat of foreign feet; The crimson Duomo sparkles in the light As Giotto’s tower braves the summer’s heat, For these majestic monuments endure Although obscured from cloistered David’s sight.

1

Opposition by Giuseppe Ceballos

Unwarranted though it may be, I still

Remain unshaken in my position

That all things can be shaped by a man's will

And can be changed with firm opposition.

The bear does not respond to laid out trails,

He travels along whichever he needs.

He seeks no guidance, finds no use in rails.

There is no distraction, but nuts or seeds.

Yet, is it inhuman not to comply,

To fall victim to careless desire?

Is constant fighting, what makes things awry?

Perhaps it is good to douse the fire.

Acceptance may be the key to some things,

Who knows what despair opposition brings?

2

Bitter Sweet by Philann White

The ticking hand follows the flow of time, The grandfather clock never stops or waits, Guiding all men at the sound of the chime, Three old ladies weaving all of man’s fate. Time reaches out, his old, wrinkled hand, Death, His partner waiting in the wings, hold fast, All those who wish for more time, hold your breath, Guard your heart, your mind, and make your peace last. As the screen fades, the ending drawing near, What happens next can make a man despair. The vast unknown, no answer can you hear As the beating drums come, left unaware.

But the passage of time makes youth so sweet, The journey of your life is its own treat.

3

Behind the Veil by Sofia Amorim

The darkened rooms and solemn candlelight,

Alone, sat I, suspecting clever theft,

In which our sacred vow of strongest might,

With time, it may renew if it were kept.

The flame did sway upon your swift return;

I smiled again, it was you by my side,

Who brought me light where darkness had once burned;

The wax that should have melted yet was dried.

It seemed the light did take the form of smoke,

Enshrouding you intangibly in grays,

Which curl ‘round nimble fingers as you spoke,

For with each other, we need never stray.

Behind the veil of scented smoke it’s dawn;

I turn the hallowed page and you are gone.

4

Borders by Romina Generali

The journey begins before the border

In the illusions cast within her mind,

A falsified sense of peace and order,

Unknowing of plans to leave her behind.

When she still was young, she had seen a death

Of a man failing to breathe she would dream,

And watch as he struggled with his last breath;

Every night she was haunted by this scene.

Borders tend to asphyxiate, strangle.

Parallels are clear, the dream is alive.

More than just jagged edges and angles,

A tranquil place so soon I will arrive.

The same borders we erect to defend

Won't see the difference in foe or friend.

5

As We Grow by Edith White

Our life is full of marvels we don’t see;

We just need pure eyes so we can believe,

But as we grow that can no longer be

‘Cause we’ve lost our innocence to achieve.

The dreams we had when we were carefree youths,

That were as real as the sky above us,

Come crumbling down by the many untold truths,

That life does not always go as discussed.

When we are young, we hope for tomorrow,

Waiting for the day we can be adults,

Not knowing that it is filled with sorrow,

But there are also positive results.

The change from being young to adulthood

Is filled with bad things, but many things good.

6

Growing Apprehension by Irina Acha

The early cracks of dawn invade my face,

But bounded here in warmth I wish to stay.

It seems the world around is a disgrace,

So what's the point of waking up today?

With caterpillars I do sympathize

When storms destroy the little worms' cocoons.

Removed from safety no one hears their cries,

Alone against the world exposed, marooned.

Or like a sleeping baby in the womb,

For nine whole months is happy, sheltered, warm.

Until cold hands extract it much too soon,

Not fully grown or dead and left to mourn.

But two yet snatched from safety can still grow,

So should I lay here fearing the unknown?

7

Features of Earth

by Elizabeth Rappleyea I glance up above and see the world’s ceiling,

Awed at the grace of it in being bare;

I hold whether or not I am dreaming,

Since at it I can’t resist the urge to stare.

I feel the rhythm of the waters flowing

Against the banks it beats like it’s the heart;

Far away are the city’s buildings – glowing –

The beauty of nature does not end or start.

But there’s this smell that does approach my nose,

Sounds of destruction that surround my ear;

The ugly stench of human greed now shows,

How human nature kills things we find so dear.

Yet with this special human by my side,

Controlled is my human nature as it hides.

8

Luna’s Mourning by Alcides Costa

Outside the windowpanes lie sights so grand; It hides behind the clouds, then out again. The rhythmic patterns shrug the hour’s sands. Her bright new glow has loose restraint. A greeting to the people all around, Luna has eyes like mine, from toe to crown, So homely, she is ready to astound, The center star in everyone's small town, But clearly she will disappear tonight; To cope and mope with nature’s many lows Is like a common queen’s descent for night, For nature dictates, so you have to go. Your brightest flame can burn eternally, So love like hers can stay internally.

9

Endless Love by Cynthia Narainsammy

To see a million stars within the sky,

Forever you remain to shine all night;

Your love remarkable; it leaves me shy;

You cause my most dark days to change with light.

A moment shared together fills a dream,

I push aside the anguish that I see;

You are the missing piece to my tag team,

A warmth that makes a tiger’s roar a flea.

You make the day a blessing not a bore,

My love for you is endless like a stream,

A song, as touching, pure as treasured shores,

For joy exists chasing the constant screams.

I always will remember you, your smile,

It’s you who makes the wait for sure worthwhile.

10

Just Maybe by Jacquelyn Villasenor

Desire in bliss is something that he wants,

So stuck on the idea of his newly found quest,

Feelings of the unknown we cannot daunt,

Open the door and find your lovely guest.

This path may result in a painful sky,

But she shows your stars you never forget;

Know excitement in you shall remain,

The burden of question, your one regret.

Why not question her broken actions again,

With hope to share with her for evermore;

There are simply too many wishful distractions,

But he will not turn away from the door.

The beauty lies in your grand hidden strength;

Love will never reach a measured length.

11

Pure Love by Laesha Zambito

This love doesn’t care on how you look or dress, Love without judgment is true love indeed; This love is fair, does not aim to impress, For love’s not driven by money or greed. This love I hold is one I will not leave And will always be deep down in my heart; When you’re not present, I can’t help but grieve, I can’t think of a time when we’re apart. Once I heard your voice come from far away, My eyes get big and my heart skips a beat; You waddle and you walk, never to stray, I can’t think of a heart that is more sweet.

This strand of perfection is what I see When my sweet dog’s brown eyes look up at me.

12

Lone Journey by Shaylah Ware

New places and soon to be expected,

The moving from the past to that anew;

The fear of the unknown now reflected,

Life once known begins to bid adieu.

Leaving something familiar for unknown,

Soon taking steps that will help you to grow,

The steps that are to come you will alone;

The journey to come is tough, well who can know?

Some places come to be quite disturbing,

So obvious that you become insane;

The thoughts of staying can be unnerving,

With everything to do with home is mundane.

It might look like a long tough road to come,

But without growth we might as well be dead.

13

The Living Dead by Jorge Liviapoma

There is a garden where life does not grow,

It does just stop, it does not live again;

I cut the grass, it’s worse when there is snow,

This place is not a home for living men.

Why are these cold hearts more alive than me?

The flowers rot but leave more life behind,

But dirty soil I'll leave, the dying tree,

I fear that I will die with this in mind.

How hard is it to leave a mark on earth

To die and have something that does remain?

Easy, are we not all from woman birth?

They sure can live but I will die in vain.

The dead have lived while I just die a slave,

If so, I might as well lie in this grave.

14

In The Dark by Ricardo Amador

It’s true to say I’m totally in love, Her splendid smile illuminates my day; She is the one I’m always thinking of, Although she does not send her love my way. My life outright revolves around my sun; She radiates for me her innocence. The sun just always sets, thus light is done, Then darkness comes: her harsh indifference. I’m looking from afar for the green light, Which represents more than the eye can see. Her lack of empathy destroys the sight, And leaves me sad, I wish I could shake free. No matter what, I would not change a thing, I rather live with pain, for joy she’ll bring.

15

My Guardian Angel by Jonpierre Calva

Time and time again I have felt alone,

Stuck in a dark cloud, trying to get free;

Feeling so lost within this great unknown.

All that I can ask myself is why me?

Wishing that all these things would quickly change,

My world gets darker and darker each day.

My life, spun out of control, beyond range,

Yet in this darkened world there is a light;

It is you, showing me the way out.

You keep saying that it will be alright;

You allow one to trust you with no doubt.

When things seem to get dark and get stranger,

You’ll always be there, my guardian angel.

16

Darken Paths by Damarys Sanchez

Always know that the past is in the past; We will all make our hopes and dreams come true. All those things that made you sad will not last, So pick your head up, no need to feel blue. The stars forever shine bright just for you; They light the path for you if you let them. Be careful for they may see us as a fool, With no faith all of these things will be dead. Always remember that these stars can curse; Remember you may think that life is bad; Nothing you did back then will make you worse, Look for all the things that will make you glad.

One day we will be happy to all see That all things lead us to smile with glee.

17

Broken

by Chidimma Enekebe

When I did need you, you were there for me,

You are what keeps me grounded when I am down,

Your love does keep me warm like Lipton tea,

Each smile you gave to me does make me drown.

Your presence brought along love, peace and bliss,

As you whispered those charming sweet nothings,

I was filled with passion with every kiss,

All those moments we had became things.

Things, the past, are in my heart does make rivers

Of pain, grief, anguish now that we’re apart.

I am just left with the lonely cold shivers,

Since you have been gone you’ve taken my heart.

My heart is broken now that you are gone,

The long lonesome days of despair just drag on.

18

Loving Hate by Brianna Martins

Like rollercoasters and their wild turns,

My heart beats faster with a single touch.

Each time you are away my heart does yearn,

Like an addiction I don’t get enough.

As moon and sun you light up my dark world,

With you time flies by like a subway train,

With every glance my heart does flips and twirls,

A love so strong that no one can contain.

With you gone my perception has been cleared,

All we once had was simply just an act;

I now know why love always has been feared,

You never meant to keep my heart intact.

After pain and suffering I went through,

I love hate more than I ever loved you.

19

Divinity by Rocio Solórzano

I never could imagine such great splendor,

Your love and grace remain second to none,

But all my life I've struggled to surrender

And realize the battle has been won.

The waters come and flood my heart in full,

They wash my insecurities away,

And when this world has my mind feeling null,

Your sovereignty is here to light my way.

As I grew older, obstacles grew near,

And people tried to steer me from your love,

But even when the world, I was to fear,

The troubles of the rest I was free of.

As great as this bond is that I possess,

I'd wear it thin if someone else I’ll bless.

20

Inept Yet Capable by Jonathan Velasco

This world is such a precious place to live;

We, as a group, are always adapting;

We push limits and continue to strive;

Study what we see in hopes of learning.

We look at the world with our eyes open;

We gaze at the stars, the moon and the sun;

We hope that our dreams will not be broken;

These dreams that ensure we won't be outdone.

We look at the stars, feel we can reach them;

Look at the moon and think, can we walk there?

We don't fear the unknown, for it's a gem;

We only spend time on that which is rare.

This world can make us feel small and inept.

Despite these dreams, they will always be kept.

21

Valuation Evaluation

by Americo Rodrigues

Some say it falls from the branches of trees;

Can it simply be picked at such great ease?

Some must beg and plead for it on their knees.

Is life to crash? Why is this such a tease?

True greed is in the heart and in the mind.

To those of you who are not of such luck,

The thought of you can be too hard to find,

Your voice has no true force, just like a duck!

People look for you every single day;

Your beauty is like that of a flower.

Blood and sweat is sacrificed night and day

To earn dollars, to achieve more power!

Money seems to be one of your main peers,

It is the main reason for the world’s tears!

22

Disaster’s Reality by Claudine Nwadiozor

The pen on paper is so swift and steady,

Thoughts are recorded, memories recalled;

He left so fast although he was not ready,

Upwards ascended to him who was called.

Seconds become longer, they feel like years,

The world near its end, chaotic debauched.

Inculcated pain visible through tears,

This sorrow and all laughter and joy mocked.

While in the midst of turmoil and the terror,

An image of your face happily smiling

Appears in my mind, and I remember,

Your tender words are inspiring and heartening.

Though you are gone, you still remain with me,

Thoughts of you bring strength and hope, they’re the key.

23

Wicked Nature by Gustavo Cardoso

Rebirth is given to me when I breathe,

To stretch my roots and be completely free,

To disguise the evil within a wreathe,

An exhibit for everyone to see.

Not having dignity just for yourself,

Hide me please to be kept safe and concealed.

The birds sing songs that help me find myself.

Wounds that time conceal, yet the bark reveals.

They leave a mark and are not skin deep.

All these things have been foresaw visions,

As they take what I have and what I need.

I am alone thinking of my demons.

And all the great things that you do desire,

I am left to be consumed by the fire.

24

Hated Love by Karina Salas

Our bond was powerful, it was so great,

The reason I got through the pains in life,

But one day all that love turned into hate

And all we had between us was our strife.

As days went by, we grew farther apart.

Our paths split up, we never spoke a word.

Inside it hurt, I never meant to part,

I never thought this would ever occur.

These days we have a problem we should solve,

I don't know if it’s better to forget.

One thing I do know is it should dissolve,

Our fallout is something that I regret.

No matter what I do, I can't go back,

Because my presence you don't seem to lack.

25

Dexter

by Odalys Quito

In this cosmo, you need to be replaced,

A wonderful sight, I pray for your life;

On planet earth, you are a human waste,

A swift strike, your life will end with my knife.

At age of three, my mother was killed, leaving me

By your hands, I say ‘Tonight is the night,”

I say good night, for death is a deep sleep;

Sweet dreams, may you wake up with a bug bite.

Although I can’t become someone undone,

For I am born in blood and live for it,

I wish to be the human on a midnight’s sun,

Or do I blood is a crime I commit.

I am the metaphor for humanity,

For this world has been plagued with vanity.

26

Life Goes On by Sasha Okon

When you first open eyes you then see light,

Then you see those that look at you with love,

And never stop this feeling that is right,

You are a child, was brought from that above.

You are a bird, which is young and waits to fly

That waits for mother’s word to leave its nest;

She says that you are to be named her shy

Own child, who’s ready now to take her test.

The thing that once happened before was just,

A memory that is now stuck in mind;

Time passed and now you do what you have must

To your own bird that waits to be refined.

Then you are left alone in your sweet home,

And wait for your own life to stop its roam.

27

The Event by Taylor Leake

Although you’ve warned me time and time again,

My pulse will often wing with butterflies.

I must cross the line, you give no choice when

The starting sound is where my success lies.

I loathe all the days before I see you,

But once we’re together I do forget why.

My knees are weak and I’m numb in my shoe,

Saying I hate you is the biggest lie.

With elbows thrashing and rhythm steady,

I find the strength when my arms are tired;

Heal to toe I pass another easy,

I can feel my lungs erupt in fire.

The bell has rung approaching the final lap,

We’re done for now as my team gives a clap.

28

Aimless by Rayner Abreu

Sometimes I feel as though I have no aim,

Living life without a goal or resolve;

I can’t say I have anyone to blame;

They say it’s not an issue I can’t solve.

Nothing really interests me as thought;

Doctors study for more than I can bear;

Chefs deal with too much stress, the kitchen’s hot;

I’m afraid of heights, so I would not dare.

But people can’t be forced to make a choice,

The sky is endless and life is funny;

I thought myself mute when I found my voice;

Success isn’t hard, it’s not just money.

Do not worry if you’re like me aimless;

You’ll find your way, live your ripe life shameless.

29

About a Sonnet by Ashley Caetano

This sonnet is dreary and hard to write;

I want to rip my hair and scream it out;

I need to bite my nails all off tonight

Because I don’t know what to write about.

But as I started to think hard enough,

I came up with talking about sonnets,

Yet writing this became so hard and tough.

I just felt like giving up being honest.

But maybe I will write about my life

Because now that is all my mind is on,

And all I want to do is grab a knife,

And grab onto my life and be long gone.

A sonnet is rigid but can be done,

But all you got to have is a good pun.

30

Worth It All by Corrina Hunter

The future waits for you and oh the stress!

The deadlines, writing tasks, the lack of sleep,

Asks who are you but how do you express

Yourself in such a way that moves them deep?

They do not want a sob story, however,

They do not want your life to be so grounded.

They want nice straight A’s, someone who is clever,

But like a perfect circle, thus well rounded.

There will always be someone who is better;

Someone whose skills surpassed you and got through;

They receive that congratulations letter

And you a “we regret to inform you.”

You stress, and tear, because you’re not good enough;

You fear the future because life is rough.

31

Turn of the Tides by Jorge Espinoza

On this fine morning, all my crew departs In great shape awaiting what is to come. Although they leave their wives with heavy hearts, Stay with no reason and you’ll be a bum. After another round to check the sails, They'd be off to search for riches galore, And after that day we would have great tales, That would be passed down and cause an uproar. Once on the high seas things would take a turn, Despite our departure onto calm seas, Soon after great Poseidon did emerge Though we had no chance we fought on against the breeze.

And after all efforts were exhausted, It only made him more aggravated.

32

A Bittersweet Farewell by Brandon Pollard

Six years of fighting to remain so vital,

Six years of hard work to obtain my dreams,

Six years of humor to claim the main title,

Six years of trying to conceal my screams,

At last, this is all coming to an end,

The gates of freedom will soon be open.

The shackles that once restrained me now do bend,

I shall soon spread my wings from this cocoon.

Soon a new chapter in my life will start,

As time goes by and I pass all the stages,

Maturity by doing just my part

By continuing to turn all the pages.

Sadly it will be hard to say good bye,

Moving on from my old life that was mine.

33

Corrupted Good by Louis Yepez

The life we live dawns sweet so honesty

Until the dark and tempting desires

Of riches form into dishonesty

And throw the innocent in red fires.

Were those who swear the truth for only you?

Lie and cheat for gains on their own power,

Or build walls that pierce the sky’s navy blue

To deny the chance of besting towers.

When the hardest working men and women

Must bear a grief through their harsh and cold lives,

While great luck comes to those not bitten,

We must fight and claw upwards to survive.

But through the pain and deep despair of life,

Does love shine bright amidst life’s bonding strife?

34

Moral Harmony by Janay McDougald

The beautiful liquid so light and swift,

The heartless mass, a kingdom sits so still,

And bright sun’s rays, like a bow on a gift

Where life sits waiting for a new-found thrill.

The dark, vast, boundless space above us all,

The mass empty and full with people scared

As all the wicked life invade fair walls,

The moon sits back to watch the show it aired.

Yellow maybe the color of cowards,

But life can thrive only with its presence,

For contrary can leave life devoured,

And hinder one from learning life's lessons.

A life without chaos isn't valid,

The good and bad can make a great ballad.

35

Oath by Amber Floyd

Describe what a true best friend means to you;

Is it someone you share all your secrets with?

Or someone that you are always close to?

Are they your twin, or is that a myth?

Best friends relate to you like no other.

They’re the ones that I can reveal my soul to.

Best friends are there to help one another,

No matter what thick and thin they’re always there for you.

A best friend is like a precious flower

Or guardian angel who lifts us to our feet,

A bond that continuously grows every hour,

A friendship that never ends bittersweet.

To me, true best friends are never apart.

Maybe in distance, but never at heart.

36

Nonexistent Love by Kayla Castanheira

I wander in this love that can't exist,

Embracing moments that were all too short:

My foolish tortured heart cannot resist,

For I did nothing wrong but give my heart.

My truth, desire, all of my lifelong trials

Are hidden, falling, taking me away;

The love that I discovered is only vile,

The time we wasted we have to now pay.

These haunted feelings linger in my thoughts,

Those things I yearned for, I no longer want.

Even in this small quiet room I am lost,

Suffering in such pain, I am not wrong.

Our human frailties blind us every way;

And forever is never what they say.

37

Deceived By Those by Indira Sawh

Deception from the relatively close,

Trust and protection deeply being stole,

Infected severe in a lethal dose,

It sinks into the soul and makes a hole.

Virtue the mistake of such a deception,

Resentment then perceived from sympathy,

Concealed among lingers a misconception,

False illusion is a cause not worthy.

Happiness erased by a single lie;

Broken is reason of a joyous life.

Powerful to strive or fragile to die,

Happiness achieved through struggle and strife.

Perceived from the mind the eyes are deceived,

Never again shall the trust be received.

38

Volleyball by Kathryn Jones

As I put the team jersey on today, A rush of excitement comes over me; Walk out of the locker room, it’ll go our way, This game has got to end in victory. When the first ball is hit we start to move, It is our point and we don’t look so bad; We progress and from here we’ll just improve, Mistake is made, here comes facades of glad. The fingers are now being pointed, yes, Again the blame is tossed from girl to girl; We fall apart and start to look a mess, The ball which every player wants to hurl.

Even though we, on court, we have to work, We carry on in lies and give fake smirks.

39

A Summer Blue by Mary Conza

As I look up dark clouds fill up my sky, The rain touches the earth with its cold pain. As I look up the summer birds south fly, The once bright green leaves a brown color gain. The sun awakens with a morning blue, The once chirping birds, hooting owls turn, The moon comes up with a pale yellow flu. Once more the cold whispering winds return. As I wish to stay in the summer days, Watching the ocean blue meet the hot sand, Watching you look past with your green eyed gaze, All in a picture perfect blissful land. Even in the coldest winter snow storm, A summer memory will keep me warm.

40

Human Nature by Samaiyah Quddus

My endless crying echoes in dark skies

As freedom comes with far away visions,

Knowing whispers of hope are all but lies;

My dreams are but a constant scream to listen.

It is my nature that holds me to you,

The feeling dragging me through lonely dark;

The puppet, captured by the deep blue sea,

The strings that tether me down to the ark.

Restraining me as the wind whips my face,

In life we are so troubled with the truth;

Consuming passion change upon my brace,

Detaches all else leaving me to choose.

This foreign feeling holding back my mind

Left so alone to wallow in decline.

41

Changing Faces by Tiara Wilson

If all that changed was good, content I’d be, Just as a butterfly once lived and crawled As a caterpillar on that grand tree, Then changes could never leave me appalled. From a blank canvas to an abstract painting, As a dull seed to a big blooming flower, Maybe an ill-behaved puppy in training, No shift or switch would have the given power. But you my dearest friend change like no other, Like seasons of the year repeatedly, As a young child’s relation with his brother, Like the stock market in consistently.

For this your presence leaves me in dismay, Yet this distaste cannot seem to display.

42

Identical Flowers by Zarina Etheridge

Devoid of color, empty I become. Into the mundane, my soul disappears. A corpse appears, my heart remains so numb; My funeral, dry eyes will shed no tears. The vivid flowers placed straight on my grave. They shrivel up and die; was all in vain? Hues fade away, nothing of me to save. I felt a funeral, stuck in my brain. If the world destroys it, will I be gone? Resides within us all, but it will be Put six feet under and will not go on, In hiding, buried away, never free.

Against the tides of time, souls die away Like hues of a flower dull, we become grey.

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Endless Cycle by Denyson Dukievicz

The year is almost up and just begun.

Chilly fingers, dry lips, and raspy throat,

Returning to the way the rhythm’s run,

Donning a pair of pants and toasty coat.

Orange begins to fall from limbs of trees,

Like gliders, make their short and gentle flights.

The ponds and lakes are cold, about to freeze,

Less sunlight, shorter days, and longer nights.

Exhausted eyes awake in morning haze,

Walk to the sink for a splash of water,

Counting the days until the summer rain

Comes back and makes the chilly wind hotter.

The harsh winter will be here very soon,

But as it comes, it gets closer to June.

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Unlucky Reality by Lisa Okon

The alarm rings, another day begins,

She does not want to rise she has good dreams.

With cranky face, she eats her sweet wheat thins,

She got her coffee, just with those two creams.

The days should be a kind of joyful bliss,

A smile she thought was but a little tease,

Like just a couple having their sweet kiss,

She asks herself, “What is wrong with my life?”

Is it just one that will be small and weak?

Her mind is going through a bitter strife,

Making a black mark on top of her cheek.

And so her dreams are nothing close to real,

This feeling is one that she wants to feel.

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Pepperoni by Nkemdilim Okeke

The sweet aroma of the pepperoni

Reminds me of when I first saw my crush;

Even though he was kind, he was phony,

And every time he looked my way I’d blush.

The aroma of the tomato sauce

Reminds me of when he gave me a hug;

He wore a blue sweater that had a cross,

It smelled like ginger and fit him real snug.

You are the pepperoni to my cheese

Is what I thought when I saw him around;

His presence made me feel weak in my knees;

He was as rich looking as a gold crown.

But why compare him to my favorite food,

After all he's just a regular dude.

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Rain and Rainbows by Baseema Williams

All day I cry a river of sweet tears

And life it seems to never be alright.

I hear and see many things that I fear;

My being crooked, but I hold on tight.

I try and try to move but I am lost;

I cast my eye to heaven up above,

For life to treat me right, what is the cost?

How hard is it to find someone to love?

It takes some rain to create a rainbow;

You need dedication to make it through.

It never stops, it’s chronic, and life’s a show.

Sometimes one needs to change prospective, view.

Although I can’t see or can’t feel your touch,

I’ll trust you Allah, I love you so much.

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A Lovely Depression by Jonathan Molina

Sitting by the window, I watch the storm; I wait so patiently for grief to leave, I yearn for a love that keeps me so warm, But since you left, it’s been hard to achieve. You left me alone in a world so cruel, You said a love like ours was eternal, A love like those sad fools in high school, But then they don’t know love is fictional. Yet through the agony of loneliness, I find myself enriched with great fortune, For to feel a great amount of distress, I’d have to have felt like a champion.

This sensation is what makes us human, This feeling of a lovely depression.

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Dark Love by Genesys Dutan

I saw deep into your eyes, inside it lies

Deceit, which covered true intentions wrong.

Illusions wandered, without knowing I

Lost you beginning this inception song.

I roam in silence holding in my blush,

So clueless of the dangers in your mind.

Still thinking of the whispers said in hush;

The thoughts of your touch slowly made me blind.

Your smile in complete darkness, illuminates;

It brightens the whole path throughout my soul.

Your image in my mind which mutilates

All the sane feelings you can now control.

Yet through this all I am in love with you,

A love so full of lies it’s so untrue.

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Break Out by Deborah Oravbiere

The stress keeps building each and every day; Engulfing her, the pain inside her grew. To her the sky seems very black and gray, And people seem to never have a clue. The expectations set for her are high. They have already painted over her; No sense of self, she sits there asking why; Her own identity is now a blur. But she has now found the spirit within, A person that is strong, secure, and free. Discovering a journey to begin, She has a clue of whom she wants to be. What people say affects her life no more, It’s time for her to travel and explore.

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Close Distance by Bruno Brito

An ocean that splits me and you again

Prevents my sight from looking at your face;

I am here stuck with hope that will not wane,

Because one day I will feel your embrace.

It will be once solely for each new year

When you fly in the belly of the beast;

When you arrive my vision does turn clear,

My love for you has not decreased in the least.

It matters not how near you are to me,

I know you must return soon to your home.

It is something that simply needs to be,

But something I would like to once postpone.

And in one year I will you once again see,

My sister which I hold so dear to me.

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Loosing Time by Janya McDougald

The smell of pancakes, the sound of cartoons, The old Saturday mornings she once had. Playing with some youngsters, her friends all noon; That time is far away, it wasn’t bad. Her life a speeding bullet going fast: Middle school, high school, college then careers. The pancakes and cartoons are in the past. Look now while you can, while she’s still here. Your baby, your daughter she’s leaving soon. Wish her good luck, so she can make you proud; Just don’t forget you’ll see her next moon, She’ll make you quite happy and very proud. Losing your baby will make life colder; You don’t want her to leave, but she’s older.

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Black Sheep by Ahniyah Batts

I’m searching, seeking everything I’ve lost, It seems as though misfortune is to come;

Both pain and joy, the many paths I’ve crossed, But now I see that I have always won.

Like blackened sheep, I often seem so strange;

I only take the paths my heart will lead, And all throughout my life I've tried to change,

But many differences help us succeed.

I walk in line and fall behind the crowd; My footsteps always seem way out of sync; Just when I think I need to scream out loud,

I find that there are others on the brink.

Forever as the freaks will we be known, But never can we say we are alone.

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Leukemia by Sarah Oliveira

The innocence of this sweet six year old

Was taken forth from him by firm disease,

Transforming his small strength to one more bold,

To make his loving nature one to please.

He is incredibly so loving, nice,

The cancer is thus present to destroy,

Like wars his body fights to pay this price,

And still he is a smart attentive boy.

He goes around then giving out kind hugs,

Not knowing the right time to go away,

Hence trying to say bye to these small bugs,

Because he really wants here to stay.

So acting like a child he is naive,

And woefully he then is fooled, deceived.

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Impulsive Intelligence by Jorge Maneiro

The heart and mind at times forget their roles

And in confusion swap roles with themselves;

The heart, powerful, shows its own clear goals

And leaves the mind to collect dust on shelves.

The body, sad and ignorant right now

Believes that these thoughts are from his own mind,

But they are from the thief that does not share

The heart’s, which has intentions all but kind.

For love and logic cannot coexist;

Their very essences just contradict;

In a clear mind, emotions create mist,

So heavy, sightless minds just might be tricked.

But it’s a beautiful sight when they join,

For they are just two sides of the same coin.

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Truth Behind Clouds by Adegoke Fakorede

The linings of the clouds are smirking now, But their appearance seems to be a smile; It’s as if lady luck just raised a brow, She thought then my presence could be worthwhile. Deceived by fortune and consumed by myth, I stared and marveled at the sky unknown; To just find pleasure that I yearned for with The eyes that portrayed a nice smile were shown. I stared and stared, and searched and searched to find That I was pulled away from earthly ties; The more I looked, the more I felt behind, And soon just turned away with sleepy eyes.

A man who spends his youth in search of stars Will see in old age what they really are.

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Dialectic by Andres Monclut

Consistently, you flaunt your being, dude!

It is non-being that makes others see What is and is not is contrast—you brute!

For knowledge dialectics are the key.

I am that which I am in a vacuum; I am that one single lone point, present;

I am independent alone, I gloom; I am dependent on y’all…hesitant.

Reasons I exist are one; for you all,

For you all are mostly amiable, Yet you all are mostly very banal, Yet you all are mostly enjoyable.

I hate to love yet love to hate…contrived,

Are you all yet without you? I’m deprived.

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Dark Lagoon by Alexsander Lorenzo

In water rips from skips of a small stone Get round and smooth as they grow and expand, And like the wild, they’re free and gladly roam Just like our love, because there is no demand,

But as they came, they start to fade away, And become lost in the deep dark lagoon;

“I do" is what I want to hear you say; Your smile will imitate your ring and moon,

And everyday I’ll wake and see your eyes, I’d fall in love again, and you with me,

The moon does make the lagoon’s waters rise; You make my heart twist like a lock and key.

My heavy love could fade, into dark blue, My life would fade into black without you.

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Love’s Poison by Ashley Flores

My tired heart, it beats for you no longer;

To just mention your name brings no emotion,

For my disdain for you just gets stronger;

I won’t submit to your fatal potion.

From your vicious grasp, I flee but with pain,

The scars and wounds will just heal with time,

For I will not allow such a sick reign,

And some day you will pay for your fierce crime.

Fear lurks beyond my great strength I confess,

For I find your presence affects me still;

My own faults shall remain my own regrets,

I should move past the love that made me ill.

I agree with where we stand, we need not speak,

Though I still dream of your lips on my cheek.

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Hopeful Confliction by Shahirah LeBlanc

Eternally Conflicted, I am now With darkness thus consuming all my mind; Unable to explain it, why or how, To be content is what I hope to find; The dark shadow, it loves to laugh and hate, Casting the dark gray shade that forms to black, The dark shadow is hungry, cannot wait, Ambitious, eager to invoke attack; A savior, friend, a great distraction please, A light, a guide, to make the days go by, The antidote to give the soul an ease, To smile, to breathe, to laugh, to think, to fly.

Success in finding calm and deep relief, I shall have peace in my epiphany.

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Love’s Knife by Kevin Hernandez

Like as the lightning breaks the calm night sky,

So does your love, impale me like a knife;

Impaled, with each day I try to get by,

Fighting the pain of your love in my life.

Crippled, I try to think of happy times,

But my mind continues to contradict;

We all get stuck in funny ways sometimes,

I am the victim, you are the convict.

A love that consumes is all that you plead,

But my love is the type that is fed on,

A love that elevates and sets you free,

But my love is the type that sets at dawn.

Although your love’s blade is what pierced my soul,

It is that very blade that keeps me whole.

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Painful Pleasure by Stacey Avelar

I ask why do I choose the path of pain

And bear the silence of my breaking heart;

I ask myself just how it keeps me sane,

The stillness of a whole that falls apart.

With every kiss my lips caress a thorn;

Your words leave scars, your touch can sew with cure;

Our love is wicked, but its end I scorn;

Oh, how your eyes have such a lovely lure!

So desperate I yearn for your embrace,

And your sweet voice that calls serenity,

For you I will adapt, I will keep pace,

Because with you I grasp eternity.

All driven by a need, as well by want

Is that sweet love I crave for you to flaunt.

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Love Through Nature by Taylor Buckalew

Your weight, one day, I felt against my side,

Your crooked branch was right for me to hold.

It came with wind, so strong, you tried to hide,

You were always there through the hard and cold.

I was there always through times, harsh and kind,

But then one storm had come and distanced you.

You only had kept your own pain in mind,

You did not see the way it hurt me too.

I was weak but I just could not let go,

Then rough winds came and all my branches fell,

Soon you were gone with the wind and its flow,

I searched for you for even a farewell.

I needed you to fight the winds with me,

Instead, you now hung on some other tree.

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I’m Stuck by Joshua Liviapoma

It looked and laughed at me, an evil laugh,

A laugh so strong, it hurts my head to write;

An empty sheet and pen is all I have,

Give up; I want to scream with all my might.

Revenge, I poke at it with the black lead,

The rubber end eats all my marks away;

That laugh gets stronger; it is in my head,

The marathon is over, time decays.

Who would have thought this test to be so hard?

Math is supposed to be my best subject,

I should have known not to be caught off guard,

The first question is the only correct.

The class gives up and starts to hand the test,

I do the same and just hope for the best.

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David Webb by Bruno Brito

It had been the worst week since Kiev in ’94. At least this time no one had

fallen out of a car. The whole thing had begun exactly five days before when a call

was made to a very special person. Paul was, and to this very day still is, one of the

few people with the correct set of skills to achieve the objective of his new

employer. That objective was to retrieve something that he merely knew as “The

Item.” It was never named, its purpose was never even mentioned. All that was

said about it was that it would be found in a briefcase at the Headquarters of some

Turkish group.

Even now Paul still regretted having accepted that job. Everything had gone

south about five minutes in. The inside contact drew too much attention to himself

as he tried to find a path for the team to take through the building. He was never

heard from again. The vehicle they were going to use broke down just a couple of

hours before the team began its assault; it was forced to find a new one. The guards

were on high alert and the moment Paul was on location he was under fire. It was

by sheer luck and willpower that he made it inside, through the facility and into the

room containing “The Item.” There was even greater luck in making it out. But he

had, and he was not prepared to make the same mistakes tonight. He had a plane

bound for France and a Mr. Johnson to meet.

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The whole encounter had been meticulously planned. He sat in Café Terrace,

facing the street, with his back to a wall. He could easily get away by taking the

narrow alley farther up the street, or simply going through the Café itself. Today

there would be no mistakes. Today Paul would redeem himself. His phone rang

loudly against the quiet dusk.

“I have the Item,” said Paul.

Mr. Johnson responded, “Well then, let’s make a sale.”

Mr. Johnson could best be described as average. He was of average height,

average build, his hair was brown, and he had no distinguishing marks. Anyone

trying to describe what he might look like would have nothing better than “he was

sort of average.” But behind this average look were the eyes of someone who was

used to dealing on the edge of the law, someone who would do what it took to pay

less than the price agreed upon.

The meeting began rather simply. Mr. Johnson ordered some water and

offered Paul a drink as well. Paul refused; he was not here to have fun. While the

waiter went inside, they talked about the weather, the latest political events and

they briefly mentioned the job that Paul had done a few months back. Behind this

thin layer of sociability, Paul could see something else. Mr. Johnson was playing

the game on his own terms and Paul would have to step up.

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The water arrived. Mr. Johnson took a sip and moved on to the business at

hand.

“Do you have the item?”

“Yes, do you have the money?” Paul answered.

“In the car.”

Paul didn’t like this new development. Nonetheless he wanted his money, so

he simply accepted it and moved on.

“One hundred and fifty thousand,” he stated to Mr. Johnson.

Mr. Johnson shook his head. “One hundred” was the answer.

“Absolutely not,” said Paul, “The original price was one hundred and fifty

and I will not change that.”

Mr. Johnson produced a small pistol from the inside of his jacket. With a

victorious smile on his lips, he repeated, “One hundred.”

Producing his own weapon from under the table he merely tilted his head,

waiting for Mr. Johnson to make his move. Mr. Johnson was in a bad place. He

could not get rid of Paul without risking himself, and his boss would not be happy

to know that some French rent-a-cop had his hands on “The Item” and the money.

He had no choice but to concede his defeat. “Very well,” he said, “One hundred

and fifty.”

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Returning his weapon to its proper place, Mr. Johnson quietly got up, went

over to his car, parked nearby, and returned soon after holding a briefcase in one

hand. As he sat back down, he slid it across the table. Paul, his hand never letting

go of his own weapon, opened the case to verify that it contained the agreed upon

$150,000. Considering what it took to get the item, he would barely make a profit,

but he was determined to at least take something home.

Paul returned the gesture by sliding his briefcase across the table. Mr.

Johnson turned it around and opened it. He looked inside for a few seconds before

being satisfied and closed it back up. Taking a few seconds to think, he looked

across the table at Paul and, with a hint of defeat in his voice, said, “Well, it seems

you get your money and I get my item.”

Paul reached across the table with his free hand, and in a show of good faith,

Mr. Johnson shook it. Paul noticed he was now wearing a pair of black leather

gloves. He didn’t think much of it, after all it was a cold night. Both men shared

another round of small talk before Paul decided that it was time to go. He suddenly

realized just how tired he was; there were beads of sweat forming on his forehead

and his speech was becoming slurred. His grasp failed and the gun dropped to the

floor.

“That, my friend, is the Botulinum toxin,” said Mr. Johnson as he pointed to

his gloves. “It’ll go to work nice and slow, paralyzing your entire body.”

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Paul could say nothing but a few mumbled words.

“It’s not personal Paul, it’s just good business.” These were the last words

that Paul heard Mr. Johnson say. With that Mr. Johnson got up, grabbed the

briefcases, and began making his way back to his car. He had gone no more than

five or six steps before he stumbled and fell to the floor, just as dead as the man he

had just killed. Out of the shadows came a new player. A well-dressed man, in his

late 30’s, he made his way to Mr. Johnson, grabbed the two briefcases that had

already caused so much death and calmly made his way back to his table. The

waiter was there.

Without saying a word, the mysterious man pulled a thick manila envelope

from inside his coat and passed it to the waiter. He had done his job wonderfully,

serving a very special drink to the recently deceased Mr. Johnson. Maintaining the

same level of quietness, the man moved along, down the street. The only hint as to

who he was lay in the check that the waiter still held in his hand. At the top, in the

scribbles that only a waiter can create and decipher were two simple, yet powerful

words: David Webb.

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Old Man Winston by Sofia Amorim

Dad pulled down the brim of his driving cap, making sure he didn’t keep his

hands off the wheel for too long, before easing the bus to a stop. I pulled up my

collar, nodded at him as I got up to get off the bus. He didn’t say anything.

Typical. He just nodded briefly and closed the door beforeshifting gears and

leaving me on the corner.

It was two blocks to Mr. Neare’s place, a few houses down from the corner

across the street from the underpass. There was Old Man Winston in his usual spot.

Every day, rain or shine, he was there at the underpass, with his thin legs crossed,

cradling his guitar, cheeks sunken into his jaw, wearing his thin black cloak.

People walk right past him everyday, to the bus my dad drives, and never look

back. I fiddled in my pockets for something to give him and pulled out a few coins.

“No need young George,” he began, his voice crackling from lack of use.

“A few moments of your undivided attention is payment enough.” He croaked,

sliding his knobby fingers along the neck of the guitar. I looked around and noticed

a couple of kids were behind me. The sound coming from his guitar was so

different, so unlike my records; so sad. I couldn’t pull my attention away until I

heard the kids walk away and shout “Dirty old Man!”

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I tossed him the change, which he ignored, as he kept playing. I walked to

Mr. Neare’s place, clocked in, and sometime later, clocked out. When I made my

way back to the underpass, I noticed my change still untouched beside him.

“How do you make it cry like that?” I just had to ask. I had been looking for

the right word to describe it. It had been eating me up all day the shop.

“It does not cry. She weeps.” He gently emphasized, gingerly placing it on

the floor as he settled for the night. What’s the difference? Crying? Weeping?

They’re the same thing, except the only person I know who would use the latter,

was living in these streets.

That was the first time I ever spoke to Old Man Winston. I usually saw him

every day for the last two years, when I went and did odd jobs at the various

‘yards’ before getting a job with Mr. Neare. For the next couple of months, I’d

leave early, and stood with Old Man Winston before heading to the shop. I’d even

hang out for a bit before going home, and each day, I watched as his fingers pluck

awayat the strings, making that weeping sound.

You learn a lot from the underpass. For example, you notice how convenient

the underpass is. It’s the most direct route from the yards people work in, to the

residential part of town, yet, they avoid it like the plague. Half of the people who

walk by, the remarkable few, ignore the Old Man. But he never seems to mind. He

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was just grateful to play. He tried to teach me how, but my fingers were not as

experienced, or as nimble as his.

“She weeps for me, because she feels comfortable.” he mused, hugging his

cloak tighter, as the wind picked up.

I stayed until he was settled in for the night, and fiddled around with the

guitar as he fell asleep. The winds picked up as I threw my jacket over him, and

looked back at the guitar and decided to call her Lucy. I bought into the Old Man’s

little dream, in calling the guitar a she, but giving her a name just made it more

real. I wondered if Old Man Winston had a real name. That’s what I thought about

on my way home, up until I fell asleep. Old Man Winston was probably sound

asleep, but I wondered if he could feel the cold as much as I did that night.

I didn’t have to be at work as early the next day, but I wanted to tell the Old

Man about naming the guitar. It would make him smile, and he might even be

proud. The day was cold, but warmer than last night, and I could only imagine

what effect this had had on his fingers, which were always swollen and stiff. When

I got to the underpass that morning, I saw Old Man Winston in his usual spot, but

when I got closer, I saw that his head was hanging over his shoulder, his cloak torn

to shreds, and Lucy in his lap. I carefully pried his fingers from Lucy’s neck, and

that’s when I noticed a cop behind me.

“What’s his name son?” he asked, helping me remove her.

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“Old Man Winston.” I shrugged. Poor Old Man Winston, he didn’t have a

real name to be buried with. “John Winston,” I quickly added. At least he had

something. I sat next to him and held Lucy in my lap.

“What about your name?”

“George McCarthy.” Sensing his next question, and wanting him to hurry

up and leave, I told him what I knew, which was next to nothing. He left me alone,

and hoisted Old Man Winston over his shoulders and walked away.

I didn’t show up at Mr. Neare’s, or even home for that matter. I messed

around with Lucy all afternoon, well into the night and everyone continued to

ignore us with a sort of indifferent annoyance. She cried, but not as sorrowfully as

she did with Old Man Winston. She went through the motions but that feeling just

wasn’t there. Dad was annoyed that I spent all my time at the underpass instead of

at Mr. Neare’s, but I felt like that spot was so empty without the Old Man. They

forgot all about him, and they forgot their reason for staying away from here. I

never forgot him. But no one else ever remembered him, because if they did,

they’d realize that I played the same songs he did, just not as well. Even Lucy

forgot, because now she cried for me. Wait, no, she wept.

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Paris by Ricardo Amador

I’ve always been fascinated with the idea of traveling. Just being able to see

the world, meet different people, and experiencing other cultures interests me.

That’s why I spent the greater part of my high school years working every day

after school in order to raise enough money to travel to a faraway place. I didn’t

really have a set destination until my last year of high school, and I decided to go

to Paris. Although I’ve been planning a trip for years now, I guess I never really

believed it was going to happen. Now, as I’m on the plane ride, just flying over the

Atlantic Ocean, I can say with certainty, that this is happening, and it feels great.

It feels great to do something so independent for once, no parents, just me. I

just turned eighteen a few months ago, so I’ve never really had much separation

from my parents, and that became a driving force for this trip. I want to be able to

do things by myself, and plus, I like being by myself. I wouldn’t say I’m a loner,

because I do have a nice group of very close friends, and a girlfriend that I hang

out with all the time; however, being alone on this trip will be great because I will

be able to decide when and where to go in Paris, and I’ll have plenty of time for

my photography.

I wouldn’t say I’m an aspiring photographer, but it is a hobby of mine, and a

hobby that I love. I usually just take pictures of things that interest me, the glow of

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a lit candle in a dark room, or two people in a very passionate conversation. I think

I got this hobby from my dad. He owns a camera repair shop back home in New

Jersey, and as a kid, I liked going there to see the cameras and my dad hard at

work.

One person that I know I am going to miss during this trip is my girlfriend

Rachel. We’ve been dating for about six months now, and I have no idea where it’s

going. I mean I like her, but I haven’t developed strong feelings for her as I had

anticipated I would. I mean, I like having her around because she’s a person I

could talk to all the time, but it’s not really what I expected out of a relationship. I

decided that I would not contact her for the whole two weeks I will be in Paris,

with the hopes that when I get back home I will feel differently about her.

Hopefully it will be a good different.

Chapter 2

So, it’s my third day here. I have settled in the hotel now, and have adjusted

to the time difference. I’ve seen the Eiffel Tower and have visited La Louvre, two

beautiful places. I took a lot of amazing photographs around and on the Eiffel

Tower, and I can’t wait to develop them back home.

Now it’s nine o’clock, I’ve had dinner, and I’m at this café by my hotel, I

think it’s called “Terrasse de Café.” I’m sitting at a table outside having a latte, and

I’m on my laptop talking to some friends with the help of free Wi-Fi that the café

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provides. The night feels magical, and the café feels cozy, it feels like the night is

filled with possibilities.

I look up from the screen to see a beautiful girl looking right at me. She

turns away smiling, and looks down at a bunch of papers. I want to go talk to her,

but what would could come of that? It’s not like I want to pursue anything, and I

don’t want to jeopardize my relationship. But she has caught my interest so much

that by the time I look back at my computer screen, the group chat has just gone on

and on to the point that it would take me about five minutes to catch up with what

my friends are talking about. Instead, I bid farewell to them, close my laptop, grab

my latte, walk over to her table, and ask her if I could have a seat.

She said, “Sure.”

I then said, “My name is Marco.”

And she responds, “My name is Ana.”

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Chapter 3

So, it’s my last night here in Paris, and this trip has been life changing. I’ve

been to all the tourist spots, taken about a thousand photographs, and have spent

almost if not all this time with Ana. I’ve learned a lot about myself, which was a

priority coming into Paris. What wasn’t a priority was getting to know someone,

but that is exactly what happened.

Ana is such an amazing girl. We have similar interests in the realm of

movies, TV shows, and music. She is also an artist. After hours of harassing her to

let me see some of her work, she finally did, and I can honestly say they are really

good. Although I’ve only known for a little less than a week, I feel like I know her

more than I know my girlfriend. We just have these deep, heartfelt conversations

about lives, our pasts, and our futures. I find myself stuck, and I don’t know what

to do. I want to make the most of my time with Ana, but I have a girlfriend. These

morals are suffocating; I don’t know what to do.

On our last night together, we actually go to the café where we met. The

night is magical and inspiring again. We talk, and we talk, and I feel as light as air.

She’s never looked so beautiful. The wind blows some of her dirty blonde, curly

hair away from her face. She smiles so graciously that it takes my breath away

every time she does. Her hazel eyes tell me she feels the same way I do. The scene

is perfect, but fading. And as we got up from the table to leave, I put my hands on

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her cheeks, and pulled her in for a kiss. We kissed for what seemed like forever. It

felt like I was in a movie.

Chapter 4

It was hard to say goodbye to Ana, but I had to leave to catch my flight. The

funny thing is that we decided not to exchange email addresses or any form of

communication. I guess we both just wanted to leave things like that: a great two

weeks in the most romantic city in the world. That’s it. That would be our one

great love story that will not be ruined, and it will just die with us.

Now I’m back home in New Jersey, and I haven’t contacted Rachel.

Although I could continue our relationship, and pretend that nothing happened in

Paris, I can’t. I can’t allow myself to live a lie. I must come clean and end things

smoothly with Rachel.

We met up at a frozen yogurt spot in my neighborhood to chat, and things

felt different. I feel like I changed so much in Paris that I’m not in the same place

as I was before with Rachel. We had a two-hour conversation about Paris, and I

told her about Ana and how I was breaking up with her. It was terrible. She started

crying, and then she got angry. It was not good, and I feel bad, but I feel better

coming clean, then living with that guilt. I’m going to miss her, but I’m going to

miss Ana more.

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Luna by Shahirah LeBlanc

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Luna saw the stars.

They formed into a thick bunch around the nurse’s face. The stars were

bright. As she was wheeled out to the car, Luna felt hazy. She knew who she was,

and where she was, and whom she was with, but she didn’t want to be here, at this

place, at this time, or with these people.

“We’re going home sweetie, and everything’ll go back to normal.” The lady

smiled at her and Luna smiled back.

As she stared out of the window of the Land Rover, everything rushed to her

head. The shards of glass, the impactful blow she suffered as her skull hit the

window of the car, the dizzying, flashing lights of the ambulance, the deep, sad,

and dangerous darkness as she passed out. She was lucky to be okay, unlike Max

who was now paralyzed. The other one in the car, they called him her brother, was

the luckiest of all, only enduring a few bruises.

“Honey we made your favorite tonight: lasagna.” The man turned to the

back and winked at her as the lady turned the corner introducing a street sprinkled

with large condo buildings. Luna flinched.

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The thought of baked noodles drowned in tomato sauce and cheese sickened

her. She made a mental note that lasagna was no longer her favorite food. The

Land Rover pulled into a valet parking lot, and as they walked through the French

doors of a marble-floored building, Luna also made a mental note that she was

rich.

Once they reached the 17th floor the elevator opened to a very MOMA

influenced apartment. Luna hated it. “We were going to invite everyone over to

welcome you back home but we thought that you’d probably be tired and

overwhelmed,” the man said as he put his arm around her and led the way upstairs

to a bedroom. The room was purple and filled with what she decided was garbage.

“We got it all cleaned up, you can get settled in before dinner sweetheart.” She

almost threw up at the word sweetheart; the lady had no right to call her that.

As soon as they left Luna lay on the bed and began to cry. The doctors said

she was fine, the swelling had gone down, and she was good to go “home,”

wherever that was, and it surely was not in this purple room in this terrible

apartment with the man and lady. Luna made her way down the stairs and saw a

girl who resembled her. They said she was her sister at the hospital; her name she

couldn’t remember. “Luna!” The girl exclaimed. Her face lit up, but her bright

eyes were sad. They reminded Luna of the stars. The girl ran over to hug her and as

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Luna faintly embraced her back, she caught a boy in the corner of her eye. It was

the guy the doctor said was her brother. He looked distant.

“Welcome back home,” he mumbled as he walked over and patted Luna on

her shoulder.

The man and the lady descended the staircase and declared that it was time

for dinner. He spoke about sports as he awkwardly poked at his baked noodles, the

girl looked like she was going to cry, and the lady chatted on about the new season

of her favorite show and continuously said “oh sweetie I’m so happy you’re back I

can catch you up on everything now.” Luna gave a weak smile and excused herself

from the table.

“But you hardly touched your food,” the man retorted, but she went upstairs

anyway.

Once she had showered and was in her awful purple bed, the girl knocked

and entered the room.

“Look, I know you’re still blurry about everything and it might take a while

before you open back up to us, but I am just so glad you’re home. I’ve missed you

so much.” The girl had tears in her eyes. “And don’t worry about Jordan; he’s still

in shock about everything. When we found out Max was paralyzed, we were

praying that Jordan wouldn’t blame you since you were driving, but we know it’s

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not your fault, that other car lost control and you couldn’t get out of the way in

time. Jordan still loves you he’s just adjusting as well.” She faintly smiled.

“Goodnight, Luna.”

She began to shuffle and turn under the disgusting purple duvet. Everything

felt uncomfortable. When would she be at her real home? This was not where she

wanted to be. Eventually she closed her eyes and began to dream. In her sleep, she

smiled the most genuine smile since she got “home.”

“Sweetie you’ve got to take the medication, it’ll help with your mood.” She

put the pills in her mouth and mimicked swallowing. Once the lady had left her

room, she spit them out in the toilet. Luna didn’t trust them; she wasn’t going to

take anything from the man, lady, boy, or girl. “Hey Luna,” the boy said as she

came into the living room.

“Wanna watch Tom and Jerry with Sloane and me? It’s your favorite.” The

boy appeared nervous. She sat on the couch next to him. The girl entered the room

next to them. Luna got up and moved to a different couch. The girl made a hurt

face. The vein in the boy’s neck twitched.

She thought she was fine; she was distant towards the boy and girl, but fine

nonetheless. Her heart rate increased, and she saw a huge gray bird flying over the

head of the boy. Luna threw her glass of juice at the wall. The girl screamed. A

flock of large gray birds began to fly into the room; they cawed and pecked at the

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paintings on the wall. She began to cry and scream. “Stop Luna you’re breaking

everything! What birds are you seeing? Calm down there’s nothing here!” The

man and lady ran down from upstairs. They held her down and as her heart rate

decreased, and she went limp.

“Sweetie you have to trust us, it’s been a week, and I know you were scared

about the birds but there are no birds. You know what? I think you need stronger

medication.”

The lady paced back and forth in the kitchen. “I mean last night you saw

bees, then the night before that grasshoppers, and you’ve been harsh towards us. I

know your memory is still hazy and everything is still in a jumble but you have to

rely on us to help you.” The man looked tired. The girl stood in the corner of the

kitchen and cried. The boy periodically looked up cautiously from his phone. Luna

stared blankly at the wall and began to speak. “What stars?” the lady asked.

She woke up to make a sandwich. She sliced the cheddar cheese and put it

on top of the multigrain bread along with the turkey, salami, lettuce, pickles,

cucumbers, and ranch dressing. There was a noise coming from somewhere in the

apartment. She panicked and her body tensed up. As she slowly finished making

her sandwich someone entered the kitchen. Luna turned around and swiped the

knife across the figure’s arm. It exclaimed out in pain and ran through the living

and back up the stairs.

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“Luna how could you do that to your brother?” The lady cried out. “I’m

sorry sweetie but you’re just not well enough to be home.”

“I was in the kitchen with her. She saw me and I asked her what he was

making, all of a sudden she went ballistic and tried to slice me with the knife!” The

boy was startled. The girl held a cloth to his arm. She was sickly pale with tear-

stained cheeks. “This was a mistake; we’re completely careless and neglected the

fact that you deserve more professional help.” The man covered his face with his

hands. The whole apartment was tense. They took Luna to a rehabilitation center.

5 MONTHS LATER

She smiled brightly at the man, lady, boy, and girl. They were all having

dinner now and laughing about a movie they had seen earlier. She had been “fully

healed.” The doctors saw major improvements in her behavior and she was more

welcoming and warm to her father, mother, brother, and sister. They let her out

after 4 months, and now she had been home for one. Because she had shown she

trusted them, they trusted her, and now she was given more freedom. After

watching Tom and Jerry with the boy and the girl, she went to bed in her purple

room and fell asleep with a smile on her face. Luna had big plans.

“What do you mean she’s gone?!”

“I told you we should have taken her with us to the charity event!”

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“Well she didn’t want to go Jade!” The man’s face was red; the lady was on

the verge of fainting. The boy and girl just stood there at the police station as

everyone did the best they could to find Luna.

She walked out of the airport and breathed in the fresh air. It was night time.

“Welcome to Paris,” her driver warmly said. She smiled. They taught the patients

at the hospital about art, something about rediscovering creativity. And one day

she saw it, the café in Paris, Vincent Van Gogh had painted such a beautiful place.

She devoted all her time to appearing to be normal. When they came to visit, she

laughed and talked to the man, lady, boy, and girl. They let her out early for good

behavior. She made secret calls with the flight agency about the trip and researched

the painting.

She exhaled all the stress from pretending to be okay with the MOMA

apartment, or the tacky purple bedroom and that awful cat and mouse on TV. All

the people who came to visit who she had no interest in communicating with, all

the family bonding, it was done. The driver stopped in front of her hotel. She

checked in but immediately left an hour later. She found her way to where she

needed to be. As she looked up from the printed picture of Van Gogh’s painting

she beamed at the resemblance. She felt at home as she smelled the delicious

aroma flowing out into the street from the café. Finally, Luna saw the stars.

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Summer Adventures in Italy by Zarina Etheridge

You have just left the airport and you step on slightly wet pavement. The

faint scent of rain is still in the air, left by the light showers that swept through a

moment ago. You feel a light warm breeze and see many palm trees and small

buildings. Small apartment buildings, with shops on the 1st floor, show a less

modern version of urbanization. You’ve just stepped into Rome, Italy. You will

find this Mediterranean city to be a world of wonder. The first thing you would

notice is the acronym SPQR stamped officially everywhere from man-hole covers

to local buildings. This acronym stands for Senātus Populusque Rōmānus, which

translated means “The Senate and People of Rome.” But there is much more to

Rome than just its appearance.

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You can find many amazing tourist locations here, including the Pantheon,

the Coliseum, the Trevi Fountain, Piazza Navona, Piazza Colonna, and the Spanish

Steps.

You can also find many ruins of the ancient city of Rome. At the Roman Forum,

there will be many ancient ruins of statues of emperors, like Nero. Directly across

from the Forum is the Coliseum. At the Coliseum, there will be many gladiators

who will charge you 20 euros (over $20) for a picture with them.

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If you go on the tour, you will learn much more about the Coliseum. One

thing you may learn is that when gladiators entered the arena, they would enter

through the “Door of Life” and they would exit through the “Door of Death” (or at

least their bodies would). The Coliseum was structured in a way so that the lower

classes would have the lower level seating and the higher classes would have a

higher level. Women and children though would have a much higher level of

seating to keep them away from the violence and blood.

At every corner you turn in Rome, there will be a historical ruin. And also at

every corner, you will find vendors, who are selling knock-off sunglasses and

purses, making weird, baby-like sounds to attract customers. If you go to the

Spanish Steps, you will find tourists and many, many vendors selling little novelty

items.

Another place you might go to is the Vatican.

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You can go on a tour through the Vatican Museum and see art pieces not only from

Michelangelo, but also from ancient Greece and Egypt. You will also go through

the Sistine Chapel. Depending on how you enter, immediately above the entrance

at one end of the chapel was Judgment Day, depicting Christ’s second coming.

Across the ceiling, you will see many more depictions of Biblical stories,

including Christ’s life. An interesting story about Judgment Day is that a clergy

member complained to the Pope about the nude people in the painting.

Michelangelo decided to include this clergy member in the painting as Minos, one

of the three judges of Hell. The clergy member complained again to the Pope about

how he was depicted in the painting, but the Pope said that since it was concerning

Hell, it was out of his jurisdiction. You will also find a huge water fountain

resembling a huge bath tub near the Basilica, where you will see many people

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refilling their water bottles. Throughout Rome, you will find these water fountains.

On the streets, they mostly are water spouts. You can refill your water bottle, or

use them a drinking fountains somehow. You might even see a cat stopping to get

a drink.

You can choose to enter the Basilica at the Vatican, where you will find a

statue of Saint Peter, where people line up just to touch the statue’s feet. You can

also visit the basement where you will find many tombs of past Popes and other

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significant religious figures. You go back to the entrance of the Basilica, and

directly below you is a giant plaza with a huge obelisk in the center.

Now let’s transport you to a different place. The people are scarce and the

silence is occasionally interrupted by random chatter or a car that comes once in a

while. You walk along the cobbled-stone street and enter a plaza with a beautiful

fountain. The population increases a little, and you see more small shops. Different

roads lead away from the plaza, with cobbled-stone buildings lined along them.

You are now in Assisi.

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This town has the quaint look of the typical image of an Italian city: namely,

the small population, the coble-stone streets, and the tiny shops. The city is most

famous for the strong Catholic values embedded within it. If you go near Saint

Francis Chapel, you will occasionally see a friar or nun. The town is very

mountainous, with many hills. But luckily for you, you can skip the steep uphill

walk or steps, and take an elevator.

You are transported again. You are now standing high above a river. Houses

and buildings line up the sides of the river. You are on a sidewalk with many

people. Not far from you, you see a bridge that crosses the river that is lined with

what seems to be little houses. Directly to your right is a place that resembles a

long and very wide alleyway lined with statutes on each side. You are now near the

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city center of Florence, Italy. You can go to the bridge, which is called Ponte

Vecchio, and find many shops and vendors there.

Once you cross it, you will enter an area more populated, along with more stores

and restaurants. If you return to your starting point and decide to take that right

into the alleyway with the statues, you have just entered the Uffizi Gallery.

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The statues are of famous and significant figures in Florence’s history, mostly

philosophers. When you get to the end of Uffizi, you will see Palazzo Vecchio to

your right. It is a giant clock tower. But even better, you will find a replica of the

statue of David.

To your left, you will find the Loggia dei Lanzi, which resembles a building

with columns and arches on it and statues of figures from Greek Mythology.

Directly in front of you will be Piazza della Signoria. You will find many people

milling about. You will also find many street performers. You may see someone

coated in gray body paint and clothes, standing perfectly still, resembling the gray

statue he is next to in Uffizi. You may also find mimes and other street performers.

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You may decide to go to the Duomo, which is a magnificent and enormous

cathedral in Florence. It is one of the biggest in Europe. Though the colors fade,

you can still see the green and white marble.

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You may also visit a museum, showcasing Michelangelo’s unfinished work.

Interesting fact: Michelangelo had a busy life as a famous sculpture. Due to the

increase of demand and lack of payment, many of Michelangelo’s work are just

half-carved, giant marble blocks.

Who would finish carving a marble statue if they were not paid? If you

decide to take a tour, you will get to explore the history and significance of

Florence. I would highly recommend it.