“Time” by Alyssa Turcotte / “Untitled” by Bess Dunsker
Time
Alyssa Turcotte
The clock ticks on, and
the days flutter by, never
letting me catch up.
The clock ticks on, and
the days flutter by, never
letting me catch up.
The Mask
Mask of light and color
Hands painted silver
Wood swords and costumes,
playful performances on the cushions.
Running in the garden.
Harmonious,
Playful,
secure.
Boundaries are blurred into a vibrant versatile world.
Then comes the shadow,
It meticulously watches your actions.
Precise,
Skeptical,
Neglected.
The garden has died.
Costumes hidden in the cupboard.
Cushions are just a place to sit,
Hands are dull.
And its gone,
The Mask
“Hero”
Seen as happy
Seen as successful
Thought to be immune
Never caught in the act
Life with scandalous secrets
All goes unnoticed
Their happiness kidnapped
Eating away at one’s soul
Tearing relationships apart
All to be a “Hero”
“Villain”
Always lonely
Just wants to be noticed
Sorrowful childhood
Never checked upon
A broken hero
Masses of potential unnoticed
Desire for happiness
Attempting to find their soul
Scared of relationships
No different than our “Hero”
The drops steadily
fall from the heavens to lull
my mind into sleep.
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
to receive this year’s award.
I believe in what babies laugh at The glance of a stranger The peek of an eye behind a hand The gentle passing of white dragons across the sky. Nothing complex, nothing worthwhile, Just the slight of a moment and the captivating air it possesses. I believe in blowing away dandelions Sending wishes into the wind and taking moment to hope that something is listening Letting fairies and dust and magic exist for mere seconds because there’s no reason not to. I believe in early mornings and sunrises Our center blending with the clouds, Creating an irreplicable watercolor above our heads. The silence of the streets and the groans of morning dew Moments of solace, loneliness, Like the world was created for you. I believe in what babies smile about The simplicity of not understanding The touch of another And believing that you, alone, can create the world
poseidon’s horses gallop along the Jetstreams Waves breaking as their hooves hack against the hills there is no holding back the overflowing banks like rivulets of Lava meandering down to the streets yet this new city stands stronger than pompeii the Fire threatens to blind but not to burn the souls that gaze at this mysterious cadeau waiting on the cooling streets the sky foam pirate ships sail through the murky Waters past towers that could block the Sun from kailash only to be cut apart by the iron strings holding together the bridge connecting two sides of the Canyon splitting the streets what would it take? for someone to surf those waves alongside the jockeys and the pirates To fly in such an incandescent manner that their jubilant cries would resonate through the streets
Craving for rigor
Binge-watching “Crash Course” for days
Grinding for that “5”
Long runs and small breaks
Dreading when the clock strikes three
End is near yet far
The candle stands on the dresser.
Surrounded by mundane items
Dripping in wax, it strained to
Bring light to the fine print engrained
On the worn diary until it flickered
And finally blew out.
The days are brighter,
The leaves finally green,
Rain in place of snow
And scurrying bugs and critters.
What I see is new
But seems hidden deep in my memories.
Coming out now I feel
A slight and wonderful
Release.
Escaping from the constraints of four walls
Relishing in the sweet, intoxicating smell of Spring,
Burning in the hot rays of the sun
I am able to break free,
Away from any screen
I can see the world through my own eyes,
Looking toward the skies, it’s clear
Winter is over, here comes
Spring.
wait for the days to come and go
when the rays cross
the breezy wisps across the sky
the moon murmuring in the night
wait.
life,
it’s almost a carousel
spinning, spinning, spinning
until it comes to
a grinding
halt.
wait.
wait for your youth to pass
let the innocence sting like a bee
the memories left behind
tick-tock, tick-tock
wait.
wait for the months to pass
the years to leave
the decades to come
the centuries to remain
time will pass
leave a Mark behind you.
I see the tree we planted, 10 years ago.
Back then it was just a young sap that clashed
Against the rest of the lawn decor
Against the green grass and tidy bushes,
He sat more like a thorn in the roses than the rose of our lawn
Over the years,
He’s grown bigger and taller,
Now, he stands out amongst his peers,
The other shrubs can’t compete with his buds and flowers.
I get a sense of pride
Every time
I look out my window.
I think it’s because I was there from the beginning,
I’ve seen him from the start
Back when he was barely anything
More than a little seed in the dirt.
Now, when the sun sets, I can see the way his petals glow,
Gleaming as they rain down when the wind blows.
I have to leave him behind now.
I don’t want to.
But I have to.
Now, I’m left to dream of the next time I see him,
In another 10 years,
When I look out my window.