“In a Blink of an Eye” by Elena Hymes / “Drifting Through Doubt” by Samaita Ahmed

“Drifting Through Doubt”

Samaita Ahmed

“In a Blink of an Eye”

Elena Hymes

I don’t like to blink, if I blink everything goes away.
she said ¨In the blink of an eye it’s gone..̈ What if that’s true,
In one blink
In one second
Everything is gone.
I tried to stop blinking, to keep the moment, to pause time.
I keep my eyes open. Prying them open with two hands, making them burn hot like fire, my tears unwillingly crawl down my face.
It’s not enough.
it’s never enough, I always blink and the moment is gone
her love is gone.
I reach and Claw at my eyes, wanting to grab what I once saw
I need to go back to the feeling, bring me back to the moments.
In one blink of an eye, I now see things differently.
it’s true, she was right it’s all gone in the blink of an eye.

“Chocolate Milk” by Miguel Arnias Dania / “Childhood” by Marley Ruberti

“Childhood”

Marley Ruberti

“Chocolate Milk”

Miguel Arnias Dania

Chocolate milk, a childhood dream,

A swirl of cocoa in a creamy stream.

Poured in a glass, so rich and smooth,

A sip of joy that always soothes.

Morning light or evening’s end,

Chocolate milk’s a timeless friend.

A blend of sweet and dairy delight,

Turning every moment right.

From lunchbox days to midnight drink,

A comforting taste that never lacks.

Chocolate milk, so pure and sweet,

A simple pleasure, always a treat.

“Sweet November” by Nawaf Kassem / “Untitled” by Elena Hymes

Untitled

Elena Hymes

“Sweet November”

Nawaf Kassem

The brisk and tend’r graze of autumn
Saccharine but piquant aromas whisp’r through gale
Sylvan foliage ad’rn’d in hues of auburn and aurum
A warmeth embrace amidst quills of ail

Though the gleam of the radiant beacon wast curtail’d
the dreamweav’r’s lighteth int’rminably burns silv’r in the colli’d sky
through the wheat fields the caw of raven trail’d
while the scarecrow saunt’r’d in the rye

Och’r pumpkins splay’d out across the meadow
and amb’r bales of hay did kiss by dusk
the gentle blossoming of f’rment’d dough
and the windeth which cradles the harvest’s husk

Steps invoking a crackling symphony
Sublime mist holding a sacr’d tiffany

“Left Behind” by Yirou Kao / “Untitled” by Kate Condon

Untitled

Kate Condon

“Left Behind”

Yirou Kao

Falling
Falling
Tumbling down
Wind swept under feet
Making a ‘woosh’ sound

Trying to grasp the ledge
As I fall down
I reach out to you
Trying to make a sound

You’re oh so close
Close enough to grasp
Only for you
To turn back around

And not look back
As I tumble
tumble my way down

Ode to Odes #10 – 6

#10: Ode to Pickles

Gracie Rigney

Crunchy yet sweet,
The most perfect treat.
Glass jar lasts a week,
Eating on repeat.
Green like the grinch,
Eat the last, you’ll get pinched,
Vinegar and spices, swirling tight,
A combination of tastes, bold and bright.
I always try to savor,
But I LOVE the flavor.
They brighten days with no cheer,
Pickles are always welcome here.

#9: Ode to Touch

Elizabeth LaBarge

The force of a ruler
Swiftly
Brought against skin
Sometimes enough
To bleed.
The pulling motion
Of something sharp
Across tender flesh
A reminder
That you
Can feel.
A soft cloth moves
Down the nape of the neck
Back
Into the warm water
That caresses
The rest
Of you.
Braiding the hair
That falls into your face
Gentle tugging,
Soft brushing
That reminder
Once again.

#8: Ode to Nature’s Changes

Ella Roberts

The way the leaves turn a different
Shade. And the sky’s crumble when it begins to rain.
Why do we fear the uncertainty?
Is it something we can fix, or just our humanity?
Personally, I love the way
The leaves fall and sway,
Although it means that winter is near,
I can’t wait to see the night sky,
The stars so bright and clear.
Maybe someday when the weather gets colder,
You won’t need to cry on a loved one’s shoulder.

#7: Ode to Melody

Kevin Lu

Singing with friends during late night calls. 
Falling into a trance while listening to a Spotify playlist.
Hitting the transition from an F7 to an Eb7 while improvising. 
Music isn’t just a concept, it’s an experience.
It is something that you can smile at. 
It is something that you can cry to.
It is something that you can fall in love with. 
For me, music is a symbol of freedom.
The melodies I play and listen to
Have no bounds to them.
Which is why I find them beautiful. 

#6: Ode to Books

Camryn Horne

A world that is not mine
But feels catered to me.

You’re an escape from my reality
Of grief and sorrows, guilt and shame,
To a land full of fantasy and fun
Allowing me to choose my destiny.

You allow me to read a story like mine
You allow me to feel heard and seen
You make me feel like i’m not the only one
You allow me to find new words to express myself.

You dont judge me for being upset
Not for crying, or laughing
When it hurts too much to do much else.
That is what makes you great.

I’m so grateful for you
And the papercuts of love you bring
That make me feel so alive

ODES #5-1

Ode to Odes #5 – 1

#5: Ode to Music

Oliver Goff

What makes a song?
Is it a melody? Vocals? Multiple sections? Instruments?
The thunder of trombones,
chilling the spine
Resonance of guitar chords
Ear twitching rhythm of drums and symbols
Passionate hums of human souls
projected out in a whirl of sounds
With or without meaning to external ears
Every song is a story
And every story deserves to be told

#4: Ode to No

Angelina Ortiz

The word “no” stands firm, a guardian bold,
In a world that often seeks to mold.
It shields our time, our dream, our heart,
From paths that tear our soul apart.
A simple word, yet strong and sure,
It keeps our boundaries safe and pure.
Unappreciated, yet its power is vast,
It helps us find our way, steadfast
So honor “no,” for it paves the way,
To live our truth, come what may.

#3: Ode to Chocolate Milk

Miguel Dania

Chocolate milk, a childhood dream,
A swirl of cocoa in a creamy stream.
Poured in a glass, so rich and smooth,
A sip of joy that always soothes.
Morning light or evening’s end,
Chocolate milk’s a timeless friend.
A blend of sweet and dairy delight,
Turning every moment right.
From lunchbox days to midnight drink,
A comforting taste that never lacks.
Chocolate milk, so pure and sweet,
A simple pleasure, always a treat.

#2: Ode to Rain

Somara Wilkinson

Oh gentle rain, you grace the earth,
with droplets kiss upon the ground,
A symphony of soothing sound
you dance upon the leaves and trees,
A whisper carried by the breeze.
In silver threads, you weave a tale,
Of natures love, so pure and pale.
Your presence brings a calm embrace,
To every heart, to every place.
Oh rain, dear rain, you softly fall,
A gift of life, a balm of all.

#1: Ode to Rain

Nawaf Kassem

Though your cold tears trickle from the heavens,
saturating the earth and wilting the dianthus;
accompanied by crisp petrichor—
gloomy clouds and shades of gray blind the imperial eye.
Though they dread it’s abundance:
Droplets of bliss and misery,
their beseeching palms are elevated to implore you,
calling upon your blessed caress over the arid land.
Though tendrils of darkness and greed engulf you,
Poison and envy lurking beneath your eyes:
Ravenous pupils as thunderous skies—
Repulsive beauty.
I find solace in your distress, though.
When the world is made mum,
and your grief envelops puddles
I heed the patter in the mirrors you’ve forged

“Anagram” by Graeme Teal / “Riot” by Jakob Womer

“Riot”

Jakob Womer

“Anagram”

Graeme Teal

Typing the letters of my name,

Google tells me what I am.

Algae meter? No, I told Google.

Not how I feel. Try try again!

Gamete Earl, it said. I don’t

Like that one, but it’s better

sounding.

Meager Late. At least it’s

Something. Could be better.

I do like coffee.

LAME ERA GET?!?! No,

I am not lame, not cool

GOOGLE.

Eager metal! This is my favorite, I guess.

I am eager,

tough like a metal,

Thanks google.

Two Sentence Horror Story

Suhaas Poka

The cabin isn’t the same as when we had arrived, I can’t remember how we arrived here; the woods are twisted, mangled; as if the world itself is wrong. I don’t remember it looking like this, why do the trees have eyes; red yet translucent maggots crawling in and out of them, a fog so red and thick it could be an ocean: my smiling friends hanging from the branches.

Raghav Manohar

The natural stench of dirt fills my nose as I wake up trapped in a small rectangular box.

Disoriented, I can make out “may god rest his soul,” and my family crying above me.

Zen Watanabe

I heard the faucet dripping again along with creaking, there’s nothing wrong with this, it happens all the time. That was the moment I saw my brother’s headless body hanging from the ceiling, that was when I realized what the creaking was.

Aubriana Fiorini

As I answered the phone, I heard my dad’s hoarse voice. This made my skin crawl since today marks the five year anniversary since I murdered him.

Giuliana Famoso

The police are talking about me, “She’s a case gone cold,” the radio crackles and he turns to me, his navy blue uniform barely visible in the dark basement and his badge glinting in the dim light, “They’ve given up on you… any last words?”

“Two Roads” by Henry Unser / “Natural Beauty” by Mohanad Nahhas

“Natural Beauty”

Mohanad Nahhas

“Two Roads”

Henry Unser

There I stood, alone, cold, damp. I pulled my cloak tightly around me, trying to save as much heat as possible. I contemplated the direction that I take now, I was so content following the path that I just want to keep going forward. If I go left, I keep venturing into the forest, hoping to find my purpose that I’ve been looking for. If I go right to the village, I could also find the purpose I’ve been looking for. I hear music in the distance, accordions to my right and birds to my left. I see purpose in both paths, to the right I could prove myself as a useful person, but to the left I prove useful as an independent body. Ultimately, it’s my choice, but I’m so conflicted. I think I’m going to go my own way, make a new path, and head straight. Or I could turn around, now I’m conflicted again. I want to make my own path but go my own way. I’m confused now, the right path looks more worn, and the left seems more wild. I want to take the path less traveled but someone still has traveled it. You know what, never mind, I don’t know. Left, right, forward, backward. Well, I’m not going back, so backward is out. I don’t want to deal with people, so right it out. Now, forward or left. I think I’ll go left, but I do want to stay straight, it’s comforting. But I want to be uncomfortable, test myself. You know what, I’m done. I’m going left, and that’s that.