Shaker High School's Art & Literary Magazine
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?”
She sits on the icy swing
The air damp
Like her clothes
She listens
To the sound of the rain
Hitting the ground
As the wind softly blows against her face
Back and forth
She swings
Flying freely through the air
And the pouring rain
A thick breeze blows back
Her wet and tangled hair
So lost in thought
She almost doesn’t notice
A slight squeaking
Just off to the left
She sits frozen
The lonely night slowly fills
As she turns her head
Inch by inch
Ignoring her instincts
And her shaky hands
But once she looks
All that’s left is the swing
Rocking back and forth
And the reminiscence
Of what was once there.
It was no secret
I wasn’t hard hard to please
Just give me that little star shaped, sparkling, sticker
No bigger than a push pin yet as sparkly as a disco ball hanging in a forgotten ballroom,
The namesake STAR something that represents life, distance, freedom, and excellence.
They are given so sparingly from your teacher after you answer a question in class, from a friend on a hard day, or from the universe when one appears on your test when you get a 100%.
They sit there on the wax paper
ready to be peeled away to be separated from their joy to bring us JOY
Summer’s warmth, in the noonday light
Gentle waves, embrace the shore
Sun-kissed days, where laughter rings
Blossoms bloom in vibrant array
In summer’s arms we find delight
Winter’s cold, a silent night
Icy winds where snowflakes soar
Frost nights, where silence stings,
Frozen landscapes in shades of gray
Winter’s touch, a tranquil sight
Learning to love you
Was like burning a bruised patch
Into my pale skin
I am a water sign
As tranquil as that sounds
My thoughts never seem to align
Disconnected from grounds, my mind knows no bounds
I write, draw, read, and bake
but that’s only a piece
because no matter what I make
it’s always the process that brings me peace
I once grasped my identity
Now I’m just lost
Desperately seeking serenity
I wonder what that will cost
Far
So far from reality
It’s truly bizarre
how I’m patching my life with morality
I was once adamant
about what I was destined for
Now I’m stagnant
Wanting nothing more
Inure
to things I never thought could endure
but I continue to ensure
that these scenarios will only let me mature
I am whatever the universe makes of me
So much potential wasted
apathy
manipulated
The Christine Curley Memorial Award for Creative Writing has been established by Christine’s parents to be presented annually to the students who display interest and potential in creative writing.
During Christine’s high school years, she showed great promise as a poet, and the hope of her parents is that this award will encourage other students to pursue in their writing the spirit with Christine so beautifully demonstrated in her own.
A faculty committee has chosen
I am not a poet
But a woman albeit
The earth is my page
Aged by existence
But its blank- nothing
Is untouched but the trees
Seized to write
The way of the world
Hurled me into a whole
Hole of conformation
Molded my cognation to believe
And perceive that the difference
Is an inference between women and girls
Dream and women don’t
Live in fantasies but
Face reality through silent
Understanding manning the being
Seeing but never freeing
The light in my throat
Matches the words I never wrote
To my daughter’s mother
Another letter to explain
That I am not a woman
But a poet peeling a persimmon
To reveal the golden core
Adored by girls around the world
Dare to dream it seems
That if to be a woman is to give
Up the most beautiful something
Than I’d rather have nothing
But my pen and paper
Taper but I am unfazed
And raised by the notion
Of never being a poet for
I am a poette.
souls twirling in a dance
on chance- we met
our eyes the keys
unlocking the willow trees- perched
upon the hill- filled
a gap between us grows
apart from galaxies of light
gleaming citrine, mauve, azure- sure
shine upon skin- akin
flames burning blood
rushes through bodies not souls
in the stars- molten gold
hardens to keys
of maple
traveling far far away
to partake in a universal dance
on chance- upon continents
on opposite ends of the same string
interlinked.
Courageous Echo
In the face of silence,
courage makes its choice to speak.
Reflecting Worth
In the mirror’s truth,
our reflection of worth is our greatest art.
Clarity
Beneath the chaos,
the stillness of purpose finds its way.
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.