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Branches of brawn Leaves of lust Soft skin on softer moss Growing limbs Reaching higher A playground for the mind Then green turns gray And to the cradle they return Once saplings, only ash
Creative Writing
Column: Solace in the caffeinated drink
Upon first entrance, one may be slightly overwhelmed with the heavy aroma of crushed coffee beans and hints of vanilla and mocha dampening the warm air. The soft yellow glow descending from the ceiling lights offer little illumination for students who settle...
Column: How technology will be a detriment to society: A Monologue
I’m sure you’ve read the headline a million times before: How technology will be a detriment to society. It also happens to be an English teacher's favorite essay topic for students. We all read it on a computer or phone, exit out the tab and carry on with the world...
Poem: Passing Period
Lonely halls, mundane walls, I see you every day. Bump in passing, no true asking; Never much to say Same is said of You and me; Two functions that coexist, But never stray that time of day Or venture from the flock Quick "hi" in passing, no true asking...
Poem Short Story: The gemini’s dump truck rumble
The thunderous whirring of a thousand metals Clacking into a chunky fluid sphere Giant abominations of crusted shards emanating a dusky glow Jagged eyes glare, squinting Close her eyes — Look down — a tire burn burned millimeters from her open-toed flip flops lashes...
Poem: Midnight Dreams
I sit in the quiet library and listen To the tepid ticking of the large grandfather clock And the gentle scratches of pencil meeting paper. A familiar tune drifts through the room and I hum along. Dropping my pencil, I lean back in my chair, and a sudden wind...
Poem: The Hypocrite
You tell me to be myself, Yet you try to fix my every flaw. You tell me not to do anything bad, Yet I see you breaking your own law. You tell me to change the world, Yet you do nothing yourself. You tell me to use my skills for good, Yet your talents lie on a...
Short story: The Cage
Tania With nothing but a couple of belongings in her hand, a cerulean color diary, and her favorite stuffed animal, a pink and white-colored giraffe that her grandmother gave her a few years ago, 10-year-old Tania boards a plane with her mother, father, and...
Poem: Rushing Voices
Spilling out from every crevice of society Dark red tendrils choking the necks of the Black and the Brown, Of the Indigenous, of the Latinx, of the folx who are Transgender And I’m screaming, my voice hoarse and until the white fist renders Me useless ...
Poem: The one and only
And every time she opens her mouth to speak, flowers take a fall from her lips. Her at times strange self attracts me in ways I strangely can't understand. She was the earliest snowdrop to blossom. The only snowdrop whose three white pedals crawl swiftly underneath...