Writing… & Submission Deadline is this Friday, April 10th!

As you finalize your submissions, due this Friday, April 10th, be inspired by some of your classmates’s writing submissions in this post and art submissions in the previous post. We’re so lucky to have such a creative student body. We’re so excited for what other submissions continue to come in over the next couple of days!

Dreams: Catbird Cry

by: Aniketh A. ’24

“…awakened in the near dark”
— John Steinbeck

I flutter up the branches to my nest
A bed of twigs longing to be slept on and used
My palmated toes slide in, under the cold blanket of the breeze
As a mirror that fogs under a warm shower
my thoughts drift away like the willowy petals of a dandelion blowing in the wind
Minutes turn into measured breath and all that is left is a dream.

At the foothills of that dream
My conscience leaves the nest,
as I gracefully float through the wind.
The dark washes over and I tremble down, for my catbird-feathers have been used.
As the ominous clouds threaten, my home is cleansed by a beautiful rainshower
Yet my thoughts are as calm as a cool, summer breeze

I look down to see my gigantic shadow as I glide in the breeze
This is no longer just a fantasy, it’s bigger and better than just a dream
Now as a soaring eagle my vicious thoughts come in a deluge of shower.
I seek an innocent prey hiding its fledgling in its nest.
A life is used.
I greedily sail away in the wind.

As I scan the terra firma below, my steely eyes cut through the wind.
Smugly I watch my many preys (hearing me come) scattering like a breeze.
Their little paws are used,
a nightmare to them is for me a sweet dream
They are too slow to make it back to their nest,
my talons – weapons for a blood-shower

My frightened eyes spring open at the imagery of the blood-shower
What has died is nothing but the wind
All is intact in the nest
For all that engulfs me is the gentle breeze.
Was my nightmare thankfully was just a dream?
Or were my nerves used?

Steel or nerves used?
blood-shower or rain-shower?
nightmare or dream?
gust or wind?
death or life in a breeze?
warm hearth or cold nest?

Life is not used and benign is the wind.
A warm spring shower welcomes flowers a-fluttering in the breeze.
This is the dream from the comfort of a nest.

In the Meadow

by: Juno Y. ’26

In the meadow, floral delights line the earth,
daffodils bloom and violets tenderly lift its leaves.

In the meadow, hummingbirds flit over poppies,
and butterflies flutter over lavender.

In the meadow petals gleam like rare jewels,
bumblebees dotting the fields.

In the meadow beauty thrives.

Response to Maniac Magee

by: Jiya D. ’26

I have read the novel Maniac Magee with my 5th grade English class in the past couple of months. This is my exposition to a sequel.

Dear Son,

You have now made it to 728 Sycamore Street; my old home for quite a while. I have moved away with the Beales, the only family I really ever had. Well, I just wanted to tell you that. Whether you are reading this at night, day, before lunch or after, with your sister or not, I hope I have informed, not worried, you of my leaving. I hope you have a great life on Sycamore Street, as I did, and meet many new friends.

Signed,
Maniac Magee

          Who is this Maniac Magee? Seemed like a big guy around Two Mills, I thought. This letter is definitely not meant for me. I walked over to my nightstand and laid down the letter there. I was not really going to come back to it, but my brain wanted me to. My mother and I were staying in Two Mills for the summer, and luckily we found a rental house with a fair amount of history. The walls were rusty, the floorboards were popping out, and I could hear the sink water trickling down the old and broken countertops. Drip Drip Drip.
The first day we got here, I took a walk around the place. I saw secret pathways, secret doors, and cutouts in many walls. I found many things; things that seemed to be hiding from the eye. Old sneakers, a hat, some framed photos, a baseball glove, some books that looked to be from a local library, and most importantly, some old clothes, typically for a boy. When I searched up this Maniac Magee person, I could not believe what I have found.

 

An Ode to Spring

by: Annie S. ’26

A petal in the wind
Waving all around
The water in the creek
Swirling round and round

The grass in the meadow
Swaying side to side
Leaves in the wind
Like birds in the sky

Colors of the rainbow
Shining bright and fair
Flowers in the field
Waving their bright hair

And all around
I think, I see
And all around
I see spring

 

The Lives of Spring

by: Annie S. ’26

 

The rabbits hop
Around the field
The frogs jump
From here to there
The birds sing
Their melodies true
The fish swim
In the shallow stream
The sprouts shoot
The trees grow tall
The flowers bloom
Bringing joy to all
Awaiting the start
Of spring

 

I am From

by: David L. ’26

 

I am from a tennis racquet,

From Hackley School and New York City.

I am from the long, quiet, happy, and fun street.

It looked like smiling and playing.

I am from a tree and water.

The hardwood of the tree.

I’m from an athletic and fast family.

From “You are going to be incredible!” and “You can do it!’

I’m from the Torah, The Ten Commandments.

I’m from New York City.

From Challah and Matzah.

From the shaders with my family to find the Afikomen with my brother,

to tennis courts.

I am from the best place in the universe!

 

I Once Took a Trip to Europe

by: Sofia M. ’24

 

I once took a trip to Europe

They were lacking in maple syrup

The sheep were white

Fluffy in the light

The mountains reaching all the way up

 

Haikus:

by: Cole S. ’24

 

The sea’s relative

I am never afraid of

A drop of water

 

The ocean is pure

As vast as it desires

Forever unknown

 

Sestina: The Meaning of Life in Terms of Death

by: Cole S. ’24

 

When asking ourselves

What is the meaning of life

One must ask

What is the meaning of death

As the notion of living

Will only succumb to the notion of dying

We as people fear dying

But are we really being truthful with ourselves

Of course, many enjoy living

But should the definition of living go hand in hand with life

Wouldn’t being free from stress and burden ease the thought death

A question of the unknown is always difficult to answer and possibly even harder to ask

In order to answer, one must ask

In order to live, one must confront the thought of dying

Life has always been considered the opposite of death

But in reality, death is as close to life as we are to ourselves

As death is simply the absence of life

Much like the way, there wouldn’t be light without dark, there wouldn’t be death without living

Throughout life, you are living

But that leads you to ask

If death is the opposite of life

Then does that mean that throughout death you are dying

There is turmoil brewing inside ourselves

As we connect the dreaded thought of dying with the welcoming notion of living

Everyone portrays and envisions their own completely different and original idea of death

This idea evolves throughout the time that you are living

Whether we know it or not this portrayal is embedded deep inside ourselves

An impossible question to ask

Is, why does every living thing have to go through the process of dying

Science may have the answer but only a true human being can unlock the meaning of life

Will life

Unlock the secret of death

Or will dying

Reveal the key to living

This is what we must ask

Ourselves

Because dying is the inevitable end to life

How can we relieve ourselves from imminent death

We don’t have an answer, but why are we living, is what one is obligated to ask

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