Featured Piece: Roseless Thorns

by Karly Noetzel '18

Can you believe it?

Oh, Karma, oh Karma

How I do enjoy your debuts.

Were it not for his rather conniving capabilities

Of deception- enough to fool a scientist

Would I have had the pleasure of sitting back and letting the cards play out.

The opening act, you ask?

A dance between you and his misplaced words.

Pirouettes of silence with an orchestra that builds to a crescendo of deeds

Before an arabesque of guilt.

The crowd applauses, as the dancers change their two faces for the next act.

A violin pleas for forgiveness, but it’s too late--

The dancers are back with costumes fit for the occasion,

And now the grand finale-

Their funeral.

The ballerina trips on fear, but the prima manages to avoid the fall-

from grace.

The crowd cheers.

Strings of the once trusted violin snap to a point of no return.

What a show!

Balcony seats crumble into embers of disappointment extinguishable by none, as the audience roars.

Roseless thorns are tossed onto stage- pricking hearts of stone.

Curtains collapsing in flames…

The smiling audience makes their way to the door with satisfaction.

Karma never fails to rise to the occasion

Once again making the papers...and onto the next show she goes!

The Tragedy of the Sun and Moon


by Alex Thomas '18

She said she saw people in the shadows of the moon

Said they were dancing


Asked if she was coming soon.


The faces, she noticed,


Lips pursed for kisses that would never come

Heavy brows over hollow cheeks

Eyes - deep pools that reflected the light of a thousand dying stars





Estranged from the warmth of the one they loved

Burned by the flames of desire

Forever chasing, forever left wanting  

The tempo of their dancing climbing higher and higher.



by Anna Sorensen '20

If you could have a tasty meal,

What would you think, how would you feel? Ice cream with pickles,

Sea food with tickles,

Or spice that would cause you to keel?


I would have a succulent steak,

With citrus sauce, not something fake. Infinite amounts,

So every taste counts,

Flavours that could stand up and rake.


Served with some delicious Bok Choy,

With sharp knives beside, not to toy.

Throw in potatoes,

Dancing tomatoes,

Slow roasts that make me jump for joy.


This is the meal that I would pick,

With a yummy dessert to lick.

My favorite taste,

Not chemical paste,

These meals to my memory stick.



by Kate Gargiulo '18

Golden fire burning bright,
Violet clouds streaking light,
Sapphire sky speckled silver,
Day is near, fading night.

I Spy


by Holly Hoffbauer '19

I spy with my little eyes,

a generation who will rise up.

A generation willing to take a stand,

willing to make a difference.

That time is now.


There will come a time when men will be lovers of themselves,

lovers of money, boastful, proud.

They will care for the things of this world,

that which is carnal.

That time is now.


There must be an awakening,

of those who are divergent.

A revival of the masses,

that will change the course of history.

That time is now.


I spy with my little eyes,

hope for the future.

If we plant the correct seeds,

they will know us by our fruits. .

That time is now.

Ripple Effect


by Holly Hoffbauer '19

The battle was waged,

Man against spirit.

Deep in a valley,

The shadow of death on the horizon.


A giant stood in the midst,

Feared by all men.

And yet one dared to rise,

He with the fear of the Lord.


The smallest of rocks,

A pebble.

Flung with a shout,

“For the battle is the Lord’s!”


It’s strength seemed puny,

Yet the giant crumpled to the ground.

The ripple began,

As the pebble made way for victory.

Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down


by Holly Hoffbauer '19

Ashes fall,

Smoke rises.

Soot kisses my skin,

The cold pierces my soul.


Dreams dissolve,

Nightmares emerge.

Fear is installed deep inside,

While the torment makes me cry.


Family lost,

Terror found.

Pain clouds my vision,

The rain making me numb.


Floor cold,

Nothing warm.

Spirit torn in two,

Could it ever be renewed?


Past adrift,

Future uncertain.

Bodies still breathing,

Only corpses walking.


Doors open,

Tribulation closed.

A new chapter has begun,

As light shines from above.



by Oliver Grayson '18

Yesterday, I witnessed the death of passion.
Crushed under the heavy symbol of rebirth in light,
our souls saw only the dull gray of a fourth-grade book report
on why we could not change or grow.
That slate, its only feature incompleteness,
blended into his balding skull,
with impassive disregard for the four hundred sheep before him.
But we saw past that blankest of blank walls
and above that killer of angels,
to the marionette strings affixing it to the ceiling;
and to the windows onto the wider world outside our wood and concrete tomb.



by Kiele Wise '18

The trees began to dance
Twisting in the wind
So I dance
To the music of the Earth
And sang with the birds.

But the music stops
An eerie silence spreads through the air
The forest, frozen in place
A beast stumbles from behind a large rock
He looks into my eyes,
But then looks away uninterested
Leaving me in the silence of my own thoughts.

With his absence,
The music begins
And again I dance
Then, harmonizing with the trees
The woodland creatures sing
Until I reach the top of the mountain
Where a gift shop sits.

Plastic Heart



It’s nothing but a heart on string,

A plastic heart, a purple string.

It matters to me none,

However, I feel to it strangely attached.

Was it because he gave me it,

Or maybe because we had a moment together at a time.

I wish that we could together fit,

But to him it simply doesn’t chime.

I would not give up without a fight

But chances looking rough,

Looks like it’s as seeing light from flashlight in daylight.

What to do now, I don’t know.

I wonder if I can call his bluff,

Whether there might be hope or glow.

How to do such?

I am lost.

Am I asking too much?

Should I continue at any cost?


It’s nothing but a heart on string,

A plastic heart, a purple string.

I carry it with me each day,

Hiding it behind clothes.

Whenever he walks by, putting it away.

Hoping, yet dreading, the possibility that it shows.

What will happen if he notices,

What will happen if he sees?

His mind focuses,

My mind is not at ease.

He walks closer to point it out,

All I want to do is flee.

That is all but speculations of my doubt,

Trying to ignore the actuality.

Actuality that there is nothing but ignore,

Actuality that to him I don’t exist no more.

There has been a moment once when we were happy together,

Maybe not together in a sense, yet still happy.

Now all I have is a reminder.

I feel on my heart a sting

And I can’t help but, continuously wonder

Why he gave me that heart.

That plastic heart on purple string.