Zora T. ’25
Four
by: Pippa G. ’28
There were seven at the start. We had all drunk the poison so we all have to fight for the antidote. The anonymous person told us all to meet at the mountain for a “rock-climbing” session. We each introduced our names: Sarah, Chad, Olivia, Zach, Anna, Eva and Harry. There were seven bottles of water each with our names, so we grabbed them and drank away. We did not realize the water would lead to our end. A person in all black showed up and told us,
“That water is deadly venom. There is an antidote at the top but not enough for everyone. You must fight for your life and climb to the top.”
Our faces drained color. We glanced around and ran to the mountain. It was a rocky start. By the time we were a quarter up (65 meters high) we had already lost someone. Sarah had collapsed right there in the hot sun and no one had dared to stop after that. All of us had cuts and bandages on our hands. Blisters burned our feet and pools of sweat ran down our necks. The rocks were sharp and hard as steel. There were crevices that shaded us from the burning sun. Everyone was tearing through food and taking off layers. Chad let his empty backpack drop down until it got stuck on a ledge. Seconds, minutes, hours passed by but it felt like they weren’t moving at all.
Eva lost her footing and slipped but Zach grabbed her arm and pulled her up. They then remembered their mission and leapt up onto the rocks once more. We unexpectedly heard a scream. Harry gasped and fell down the rocky mountain. It looked as though he was in slow motion and Eva screamed again. She sat down in a crevice wailing at the sight of her husband plunging to his death. She wept and sobbed as we all passed her. Eva, her face red from crying, snarled and dashed up the rocky terrain angrily. She was fueled by pure madness and sadness. Everyone’s hands bled and feet ached. We could soon see the tip and with relief we pulled ourselves up with courage. Anna was the first to make it up, then Zach, then Eva, then Chad and Olivia. Another person in black held a vile with a purple substance. Anna suddenly lost all feeling in her legs and crumpled off the ledge. Chad dived to save her but was too late and she disappeared over the edge.
The man in black gave us each a vile and we gulped down the antidote. Then, the remaining people who were safe sat down and took a breath. Our socks were caked in blood and sweat. We all got a drive home and went to the doctor. One secret though is who did it?
Tian Chang W. ’28
Two Haikus
by: Arya G. ’27
Thanksgiving:
Happy Thanksgiving
Even if I can’t see you
Know that I miss you
Turtle getting caught:
Turtles swimming
Sometimes getting caught in nets
Dying slowly
Taylor S. ’25
Covid
by: Theo A. ’27
Covid doing a lot
Covid hospitalizing a lot
Covid destroying fun
Police making a bad move
Starting protests and violence too
People not wearing masks
People not doing their tasks
And they think things will change
Summer, we want to reopen
They opened up but the world was still copin’
With countries and relationships
And Covid
Covid wrecking many lives
Breaking many hearts
But even though on the outside we looked hopeless
We were strong inside
We wore are masks
We did are tasks
And opened the gateway to fun
Six feet apart
2020 has been the worst year of our lives
Wrecking our plans
And fun and travel, cut by a knives
Or scythes
Or anything that destroys happiness
We’re strong, we’re tough
And even though Covid was rough
We are rougher and tougher than a virus will ever be
If we are together
If we work as one
Skylar v. ’26
Where I’m From
by: Meron B. ’28
I am from cozy apartments
From Sephora skincare and Burt’s Bees chapstick
I am from the town-house
Home-like, lively
It sounded like never ending phone calls from the basement
I am from the front yard daisies
Lavender bushes
sweet smelling, surrounded by bumblebees and butterflies
I’m from the church sundays and black coffee
from Tata’s cookies and Dad’s greenthumb
I’m from the Saturday hikes with mom
and painting and sewing in Tata and Ababa’s basement
From “Keep your hair down, it wont be frizzy”
and “Wear a dress, it’s warm out”
I’m from kolo, served under church arches
From donations, bread, and sour grape juice
I’m from Ethiopia and North America
Blackout chocolate cupcakes and vegan burgers
From the hours of raking, picking up leaves, and creating and growing life with dad
To the wet sneakers, and smudged t-shirts from crossing my backyard waterfall with my neighbors.
I am from scented lotion, lipgloss, and earrings. I am from books, from pointe shoes, from sunflowers. I am from African culture, from reggae music, from ripped leggings. I am from where I’m from, no matter where I am.
Ryan C. ’25
Embers
by: Jayson P. ’27
In the air
on the ground
as if no one would see
the spark in us.
The flickering light
or the volatile wind ahead.
With no one thinking about us
no one wanting to have us
just wanting to watch us
Slowly fly away to an unpredictable fate
or rather, be an opportunity for us
or something worse
as cold winds have it
putting everything out.
Hearing the popping and crackle
of the heart-warm fire flickering.
The wood’s odd smell
and the burning sensation
of being released
to an uncertain destiny.
Rebecca I. ’25
Ways of seeing skis
by: Josh G. ’27
———-
They are worn, used, taken off, and put away.
The dirty smell of dust fills the room.
Once every glacial season in the midst of cold, taken out and put to use.
———-
Put in a car on a long journey
carried on shoulders
thrown on the wet snow –
a giant’s shoe.
———
Traces of others
imprinted in the ground
big and small
the first taste of snow
on a yellow welcoming sunrise.
———-
A fun tool
used by many
made long ago, forged by sweet hickory.
———
A new and scary experience
the dark black fear of falling
———–
The slopes are open
skis are on it.
————
A pair.
Twins, never separated.
————
Noah H. ’28
More Than Tomatoes and Cheese
by: Olivia H. ’27
A picture of a little girl on a step stool, with sauce all over her, next to her aunt, sits on the desk. That picture was taken six years ago, showing how long Friday pizza night has been a tradition. Over time, the recipe for pizza has advanced; now, instead of store-bought dough, my mother goes through the tedious task of making the dough. She rolls, kneads, shapes, and feeds her own sourdough starter. While she’s rolling the dough, she always allows taste tests. She lets my siblings and I help roll the dough, and then hold it up so it spreads using gravity. The dough sinks down as if it had just jumped to the moon and was now falling. The dough is as soft as a cloud. Then, we spread the tomato sauce leaving a thin strip around the edges. After the first cooking of the crust, my mom adds the toppings, then she puts the pizzas back in the oven to cook the cheese and tomato sauce into the crust. From anywhere and everywhere in our house, you can smell the aroma of meat, cheese, and tomatoes blending. It smells as familiar as if it was part of home. Flavors have advanced as well, currently a favorite is sourdough crust with olive oil, feta cheese, scallions, and pancetta. Every Friday night, my family sits at the counter; at the first bite of my pizza, I feel the solid but soft crust, the tomato sauce and cheese singing a delicious harmony, and the pancetta adding some salt and texture. It melts in your mouth, like an ice cube, it’s gone all too fast. It tastes so good that before you know it, you’ve eaten 10 slices. Friday pizza night is special to my family because we always do it together. Most nights we have activities and homework, but pizza time is together time. We sit around the white table in the breakfast room. We talk about our days, things in our lives, upcoming vacations, and past memories. There are many people who are busy in my family. My Dad works hard at his job all day, and my Mom works all day helping my siblings and I, doing errands, and chores. My siblings and I are either at school, working on homework, studying, or going to all of our after-school activities. I am thankful for all my family’s hard work, but I love how on Fridays we all convene and talk. Friday pizza night is a very long dinner. We might sit as long as an hour and a half talking and eating. Friday night marks the end of the week, and it always feels joyous. My family all look forward to Friday, and so do I.
Nick F. ’28
A Magnificent Culinary Experience (With a Side of Couscous)
by: Rani B. ’27
The first time I tried chicken tagine was in Morocco, when I was roughly five years old. My Mima (grandma), my aunt, and my mom made it in a very large tagine pot. I was playing outside with my cousins, and I could smell all the flavors, like the onions and the brothy, thick sauce. You could smell the paprika, pepper, and salt in the air. I was hypnotized by the amazing smell, and I came to watch the adults making the delicious-smelling food. I watched the art of making and layering the sauce and the beautiful form of placing all the different ingredients like chicken stock, couscous and onions. They spent so much time arranging it.
When we were called to eat, there were heaps and heaps of couscous, mountains of chicken smothered in sauce, and onions that were so tender and soft they melted in your mouth like a savory version of chocolate. The chicken was soft and tender too, and the skin was crispy and flavorful. The couscous mixed with sauce created an artistic reaction. It tasted like heaven on a plate with extra onions. The chicken was equally amazing. It was a magnificent experience, and I love eating the delicious sauce, chicken, and onions. It was a culinary delight. The aromatic food tasted very, very amazing. The members of my family have different ways of cooking it. My grandma puts a lot of onions, my aunt puts more couscous, and my mom puts lots of sauce. I am working on my own way to do it, because I am still learning how to make it, but I hope I will master it soon.
Mia S. ’28
Ways of Seeing Golf Clubs
by: Sadie G. ’27
A generic toy
passed from one hand to the next
to help the ball through the windmill
in the salty heat of a summer night on the Cape.
An experiment with the laws of physics;
half a pendulum;
a tap, a push, a whack.
3.
A head, a hosel, a shaft, a grip;
irons, wedges, woods, putters;
endless options for your path to victory.
A yearly investment to up your game
until outgrown, upgraded, and replaced by
the sparkling smoothness of new technology.
5.
An orchestra of instruments
like wind chimes tinkling in my bag
creating metallic sweetness to my ears and
imitating my stride beat by beat.
An extension of my body,
like a fifth limb dancing through
plugging mud, stinging sand, tickling grass, and uplifting air.
Precise as a surgeon’s scalpel
or an artist’s brush
requiring choice, strategy, and trust.
The pressure of a confident handshake,
no more, no less;
fingers intertwined and woven
like my grandmother’s sweater.
A best friend
who can sometimes betray you
with a crushing hook or slice.
A bitter weapon hurled in anger,
unjustly blamed and
smashed on the innocent blades of grass.
11.
Comfort in the palms of my hands;
a perfect fit like Cinderella’s glass slipper,
customized uniquely for me.
12.
A trophy finish
held high in the air and
captured in gleaming gold.
Lola F. ’27
CRAZY TALK!
by: Kalin H. ’26
I thought I’d make a birthday cake for my best friend. I totally goofed! Turns out I had accidently made a rotten chicken and mustard pie that looked like a bog trog sitting on a log eating eggnog. I don’t know why I picked chicken to put in the batter but it looked awfully wet so I thought everyone likes chicken and chicken is hard, so why not put it in a cake and make it hard. The icing was not a good color so I put a gallon of mustard to help stabilize the color. Sadly, I had accidently put the cake in my chipotle which I unthinkably put in the oven. My friend is coming so I plan to tell him that my cat ate and messed up the cake, for she was a cat who had recently ate a bat and was quite fat. This awfully reminds me of the time I took a fried chive, and I went to the strong tide with a kite to catch a fly which was surprisingly hard so I took my fried chive and taped it to the kite which was alive and added the chive with tape and then I got the fly! But I had no fried chive so I blamed it on the cat who had ate my hat so my friend Tat thought I was still good at making habitats, and that was that!
“Tis a tongue twister”
Leila D. ’26
Winding Wind
by: Micah J. ’26
I break hard to see the dawn,
Were blacks and whites get along
And sing a song
I pray to god for harmony as my brothers and sisters gather by me
The teens hit hard cause their Pa can swing along
Left without love a endless decay of life,
The drug hit hard that no one can fight
The AKs so strong that people can’t walk the street at night
I heard the cries of those who died from police and bothered brothers
I saw the son and daughters so caught up in their body they couldn’t smile one time
That they had to hide and throw all them feelings away
I sing a song were no matter what color you are you live in piece’
That drugs and guns didn’t ever hit the street
I wish that people didn’t worry bout’ their looks cause,
everyone’s beautiful in their own way
Keira P. ’26
The Three Little Pigs as told by the Wolf
by: Sasha H. ’25
One day I craved some boar
So when I spied one at my front door
I opened my maw
And blew down his house of straw
But still I hungered for more
Then I saw a fat pig
It really was very big
I really love meat
And I knew he’d be quite a treat
So I blew down his house made of twig
I spotted the last hog I’d picked
Hidden in a house he had bricked
I blew gale after gale
But couldn’t prevail
And I knew I was finally licked
Kareena P. ’26
Third Cardinal Sin
by: N’Darri P. ’25
The blinding lights mangled her focus. She wouldn’t be deterred; it was instilled in her to be everything but. Her opponent sitting across from her; a villain who was dealt the same cards as her but somehow managed to hold them all in her deceitful palm. With all her cards on the table, she realized she should’ve seen the signs. She knew that love, life, and everything in between was a game of chance, but she never expected anything like this. She at least thought her feelings, her very being at the least, would have been respected, which made her feel even stupider for not realizing her mistake sooner. Never again. Now, she knew better. She knew not to be so trusting, knew that who she was didn’t matter to people who cheated in this gamble. She picked up her hand, her choices laid before her. There was only one out. With a flick of the wrist, a final decision was laid across the table. A joker. Forever the wild one, unpredictable, often undealt and unwanted, but when given the chance, would make or break the game. A replacement had been given, and a choice had been made, and another day had been gifted to her. Her luck wouldn’t last forever, but in her eyes, good things come to those who are forever greedy.
Juno Y. ’26
The Ocean Blue
by: Fernanda P. ’25
As blue as the sky
As loud as a train passing by
As deep as a dog’s love for their owner
The ocean blue
As scary as going to bed after watching a horror movie
As fun as going to the park as a toddler
As calming as curling up into cozy flannel sheets
The ocean blue
As nerve wracking as taking a test
As exciting as trying something new
The ocean blue
Is an old friend
Once you leave
And come back
The ocean blue
Will always recall you
John Pierre N. ’26
Lovely Songs
by: Tyler C. ’26
There is a song that I love
And once it gets into my eardrum
Once i hear those guitar notes
Than I know it can’t go wrong
My mom always has it on the radio
Sometimes even on her phone
I will listen to it with earbuds
Or even with headphones
Jackie R. ’28
Assorted poems
by: Pippa G. ’28
Put your eyes to the test
Work really hard
And do your best!
That is what my teacher said
When I could not focus
My mind is blank
I can not think
There is no point in rhyming
I should try something else
Like dancing
Or swimming
I could possibly
Do miming
Graceful and bright,
Smooth like ice
The most interesting thing on earth
Majestic and proud
Abstract and loud
Is how my friend
Describes mice
Giulia S. ’25