Gold

by Meera Singh

Gold


Silver and Gold

by Srija Nagireddy

 

In History, we learned that monks used to illuminate

Their manuscripts.

How aging hands lovingly embellished the words

Of their hearts.

 

You now laugh and say that you are getting old,

And show me the crest of white upon your head,

How it fades into an ebony that deft fingers

Twist every morning.

 

You only shine when no one looks,

And I watch from behind the kitchen door,

Because there is something holy about the way your

Ordinary smile disappears, and I can only see faith.

 

Faith in the world and Religion

That changes with every breath I take and flows through

Sacred books and whispered words, and reluctant wishes,

With you as the only constant.

 

And you act so much like a child, with inside jokes and

Fanciful whims, that I sometimes wonder if you are trying

To keep us young. Out of reach of pained smiles and

Remnants of corrupted memories.

 

You are forever illuminating your manuscript,

And behind eyes that never shed tears, and laughs

That ring in my ears every night, I see you painting the story

Of your heart in silver and gold.

 

Monet’s Dream

by Isa Larco

Monet's Dream


Restraint

by Corinne Greene

 

Long scraggly fingers once adorned with leaves

(they now lie scattered on the floor)

look sad, and lonely, and naked.

 

Follow their lines,

down to their drooping ends

where leaves still cling, green, alive and glossy

unaware of their future on the floor.

 

Why did you make me this way?

Is this what you call caring?

Your worry was so great, you smothered me until I overflowed.

You left me no room to grow.

 

Sky Lines

by Kylie Marden


The World Is Theirs

by Elizabeth Atherton

 

The world is theirs

They feel it now

As the city obeys tradition.

Traffic moves.

Lights change.

The movement of people,

Each so insignificant

 

They feel the sun on their face,

And the weight of gravity pulling

Down

 

But high,

High above the monotony

Their hands clutch a mug,

A heavy jumper reassures them,

Holds tight in a warm embrace

As they see the sky lighten

 

They cannot yet understand the rules

Separate the clarity of melody in the starting day

From the contrasting harmony,

The deep thrum of the daily rhythm.

 

But as the night ends,

They know

 

The world is theirs for the taking

 

Like a Bird, I Rise

by Nala Wu

"Like a Bird, I Rise"

Friends

by Jeremy Doiron

 

You’ll never know,

And nor will I,

If ever we could have been

More

Than just friends.

But just friends we’ll stay,

And good friends we’ll be;

Because I could never ask.

 

So we laugh and we joke,

We smile and we tease,

I look forward to seeing you

Every day.

 

Never will I call you mine,

Nor you me yours;

Though I will always be.

 

And I never know quite what to say to you,

Aloof behind your perfect walls.

Always I come to the point of saying, to revealing…

 

But then time’s up.

The chance over and

Done. And another day I wait,

Only to await the next,

 

happy.

12.23.16

by Daisy Yin

12.23.16 by Daisy Yin


Waking the Dancer

by Isabelle Duval

 

I fling and fumble

A puppet on strings

Coiling deep in my stomach

Twisting and tugging my heart down

With every fall

 

A wooden Pinocchio

I teeter and totter

Waiting for a fairy

To give me wings

 

The gears turn

And steam jets from my ears

As the machine

grinds to life

 

This tin man

Doesn’t need to oil

To stomach all

The work and toil

 

I open the floodgates

And fresh blood outpours

Coursing through once

Barren veins

 

A flower blossoms

The vines wither and crumble

A rumble crescendos

From deep in the core

 

Every finger

My hammering heart

I reign it in

I set my jaw

 

I thrust

And run

And jump

And Spin

 

I build myself a rocky core

Impervious to force

And with every leap

The ceiling seems less far

 

With every arabesque I bend

I arc and change my shape

I flit and float

Defy the floor

 

As I learn

I have to earn

Now I can dance

again

Leopard

by Anne Fu

Leopard by Anne Fu copy


Lost Light Found

by Kirtana Krishnakumar

 

They say it’s time to fight,

I back away.

 

They say there is more light,

I will not stay.

 

“Work hard, you’ll get it right.”

 

I work too much,

 

and get it wrong.

 

Stones atop one another,

pulling down with weight,

I struggle to get back up,

 

and fall.

 

Lying there flat,

these words on my face.

I slowly sit up.

 

they’re gone.

 

Getting up, brushing off,

sluicing away the worded residue.

 

I’m not golden, but bronze.

Bronzed with dirt, glowing bronze.

 

it is far more than enough.

 

Running far, not working so hard.

Why? It wasn’t necessary.

 

calm down.

 

Now

 

they say it’s time to fight,

I stand and fight.

 

and win.

 

They say there is more light.

I will stay.

 

Its fire never left me.

Look Back At Me

by Diana Willand

Look Back At Me


What Are We

by Tiffany Chan

 

Like little ants marching in straight lines across my vision,

For function, for organization, for discovery.

A little click with each black speck,

Each holding something,

Transporting, conveying.

 

They can carry the light weight of a puff of snow,

Or the hammer blow of falling hail.

They carry anguish and heavy emotions

And the lifting, lilting laughter.

 

Like little Oreos stacked on a white countertop,

They contain sweetness within darkness.

Each is organized, stacked one on top of the other,

Waiting to be dunked in milk and eaten.

 

They are like little clicks from a metronome,

Each one is coordinated,

Falling at a specific time,

Yet can be manipulated into varying tempos.

 

Like little hammers hitting the strings within a piano,

The next note rarely copies its forerunner.

Each note burgeoning into multiple meanings,

Echoing and repeating again, and again, and again,

Being heard differently each again, anew, afresh.

 

Little ants divided by spaces in straight small sentences,

Carrying such a large varied load across so many turns,

Each being different, but sometimes seeming the same.

It depends on the receiver.