Poetry in the style of T.S. Eliot
College
by Sammie Blicker
​
They say the process is easy
If you don't procrastinate
I’d have to disagree
As I'm standing at the gate
​
Anxiety enters my body
Like an infections pandemic disease
I'm standing in front of the gate
Without any of the keys.
​
So much to do
With such little time
The list continues to grow
Like a hurricane grocery line
​
For three long years we have striven
The wondrous goal to gain
But now as I stand at the gate
My ankle gets yanked by a chain
​
The future is on the other side
In a bright white castle
Who knew this whole process
Would be such a hassle
​
My heart races fast enough
to light fire to the land
An eye like Mars’
to threaten and command.
Hopes for a Future
by Flower Cintron
​
A young girl can dream of what she will be.
She can have hopes for a future she cannot see.
Maybe she will grow up and follow after Ginsburg;
But maybe she will become an even greater female activist.
Either way,
Time passes before the blink of an eye.
Relapsing into a quickly ending cycle of all memories and emotions.
It seems that mouse could run around the clock an infinite number to times;
and she will still have a clock full of memories, and dreams.
The question is; will she learn how to make the best use of her time?
As a young girl, all she has is time.
She has a plan she wishes to carry out;
A dream to be Gloria Steinem,
Perhaps a dream to be the next Rankin.
A dream to be a person of change in this world.
But in the end, the universe will decide for her.
She has learned; that throughout time,
The plan she had for her life will not always occur.
Disappointment has occurred, but in the end, she will acquire success.
A young girl can dream of what she will be.
Eventually she will feel a sense of fear
A sense of her stomach dropping at the thought of not succeeding.
In the end, she must cast all of her cares, which may be difficult,
But lucky for her, time will momentarily be on her side.
Faded Attraction
by Maxine Danni
I
He commenced a slight attraction to her
And made his commitment clear as day
He grew anxious
All he wanted was to be spotted
by the girl he admired.
II
She was certain of his attraction for her
At first, she was afraid
Afraid of rejection
Afraid of her heart breaking like a piece of glass
And afraid of committing.
III
He began making his desire more clear
He realized he wanted her and only her
Communications between them grew strong
The butterflies in his stomach expanded until he couldn’t feel anything else
But butterflies drifted away swiftly.
IV
Meanwhile, her butterflies grew larger and larger each day
Her affection strengthened every time he looked at her
Her happiness shined brighter than the sun
She looked forward to everyday that she saw him
Her life was all figured out.
V
Suddenly his commitment faded
His anxiety left his body
And his admiration became non-existent
All that was left
Was a girl, head over heals for a guy that didn’t want her anymore.
Secret Escape of the Mind
by Shelby Coleman
​
The point where the water affectionately kissed the sand
Miniature foot-stamps lined the moldable ground
The occasional seashell punctured soft skin
White-capping rhythmically
​
II.
A picturesque escape for the brain
I visited that piece of paradise often that summer
When the thunder violently rolled its tongue
I simply hopped on a boat
And went
​
III.
To be completely transparent,
Sometimes even that fair dream isle
Succumbed to the compulsion of the storm
Palm fronds displaced throughout
The area of the once idyllic land
​
IV.
That sinful parasite
It poisoned my blood and polluted my thoughts
Only to be cured by the brisk and blissful
Scent of salt and tropics
V.
A secret escape of the mind
It will be the salvation for us all
The point where the water affectionately kissed the sand
Turn away from evil and do good;
Seek peace and pursue it
Picture in the Mirror
by Sara Goodwich
​
I
Mirrors swallow hatred
They engulf the words
That bullies the mind
We stand as bystanders
II
We watch the show it presents to us
Investing ourselves in the plot
Critiquing the story
Bolding the parts that spoil the story
That just do not make sense
III
The mirror only displays an outline
But this doesn't stand permanent
A stretch can be erased
Removed and changed
It's up to us to draw
To grab a brush
Forcefully swipe it
To be the painter, the creator
IV
Can we accept?
Should we agree?
Are we really pretty?
Does a thank you reply
Make us stuck up?
Does pink help us see ourselves for acceptance?
Or is it play?
V
The mirror can throw up
It can take its words
Crumble them up and cast them away
We can change the mirror
We can show who our reflections are from inside.
Roads Unknown
by Samara Jivani
​
Lying at our feet
Are the roads
Consumed with hopes and fears,
Dreams and nightmares,
Motivations and expectations
​
We stand still only to envision
An inch of our future, that continues to build
Our roads leading into jungles of honking horns and screeching breaks,
calming beaches with powdery snow backed by steep chalky cliffs,
And tiny towns neighbored by tinier towns
​
The roads cross over
bleeding the present into futures
That we can only imagine
With glimmers of hope in our eyes
​
Those on our path will seek,
what other paths would detest
Our roads today line up,
yet two hundred and forty days from now will disband
Each road now filled with new hopes and alternate fears
The roads that continue to evolve Till life realizes its end
The Beautiful Cycle
by Danielle Jaffe
I
A petal falls
The imperfect flower sits
And it gifts its shedding weight
to a shelf below.
We watch
And slowly a crack appears.
Another petal falls.
So small and insignificant
But the crack below grows.
A petal falls,
The imperfect flower sits
Oh, the things we must carry!
II
To bear the weight
We often find ourselves
Falling,
Cracking,
Breaking,
We gasp for air.
We try to carry the burden
But with each petal
our shoulders hurt
And the crack grows.
Row Row Row your boat
We must keep going
III
Such a small thing
One single petal
It effortlessly floats and lands,
Unaware of its contribution.
It's almost as if the weight could go unnoticed,
But it doesn't
We see it
We feel it
IV
The shelf continues to crack.
One petite petal falls,
But it lands on the hundreds
that have already fallen,
All of which balance
on a cracked surface.
Yet, after some time
the petals get removed,
Or they fall off of the shelf,
Or they fall through the crack.
They are gone,
And the cracked surface is repaired
And we can finally breathe.
V
As the petal plummets
We catch it.
As the crack grows
It is fixed.
We no longer gasp for air.
The imperfect flower grows new petals,
And the cycle continues.
Floating Between Two Seas
by Ceci Nakfoor
​
I.
She is the girl who floats
The girl who doesn’t belong
And wishes
That she could dive
Into the water, wherever or whatever
That may be and
Experience what the others see
She floats between two seas, the
South and North
Waves pull her in both directions
Simultaneously
Dancing with Mason and Dixon.
II.
She feels the currents
From both seas yet
The North’s swell tends to be stronger
My waves are the best in the world
It says
But the Southern sea seems surprisingly familiar
Her ship is ready but
Will she sail for England or for Spain?
Her mother swims below in the South Sea
Her father in the North
So she continues to float
And simply waves down at them from above
Winds blow in both directions
or not at all
Doldrums.
III
Sometimes she surrenders to a pull
And takes a dip
More frequently under
The North Sea’s surface
Coming up to breathe
Coming up to breathe
Breathe
Breathe
Breathe
Don’t Cry for Me Argentina
More lost than Magellan
There’s no place like home
And the tornado is coming
Where’s the yellow road?
IV
The girl who floats
Stares aimlessly at the sky
Trying to forget her displacement
Oh Beautiful for Spacious Skies
Sometimes she sees birds
Fly high and by
But where is
The thing with feathers?
V
But the tides they are a-changin’
And the tempest is almost here so
Choose
You must
Must take a side
This is how it ends
This is how it ends
Above her waves make grand collisions
She sinks without a firm decision.
A Tribute to RGB
by Abby Sinberg
​
The loss of an idol leaves me hopeless
A country run by men
Taking away my rights
This grievance is today
Tomorrow we fight
She fought
Women’s Rights matter
2nd woman to sit in
Changing the entire game
I look for a leader
Kamala I follow
Paving the way
Black and Asian
Feminine and powerful
We need a voice
Caring yet impactful
Not undermining the work
Women are not subject
Like it says so in the book
America needs to rise up
Wise up
Her job is not done
No where close
Not until 9
Anxiety
by Ariana Kodad
Like worn rope
Dark but faded
Rough against skin
Numbing among thoughts
Twist and turns around and within
Pulling closer
Pulling farther
Pulling tighter
Like worn thoughts
Dark and infinite
Effortlessly pushing
Effortlessly hurting
Nails break the skin
But thoughts break the heart
Hands gipped around rope
Pulling them farther apart
Like worn emotions
Dizzy and lost
Spun upside down in a world of thoughts
Like worn rope
Used and torn
Shiloh
by Sydney Schiller
​
​
I.
Trouble walks on four legs
Trouble walks on four skinny long legs.
Covered in thin strands of fur,
Smelling of whisky and cigaret-butts.
Trouble keeps their head close to the ground.
Sniffing for loose hamburger buns
And the sweet powdered sugar from old beignets.
​
Wary of strangers, yet knew who to trust.
Like the morning star just after he’d fallen
trouble was bruised, beaten, and vengeful.
II
A cacophony of trumpets, loud drunkards, and taxis. Trouble hated the marching bands,
But not as much as the drunkards.
Trouble had a tail.
Had a long silk tail indeed,
Her tail now a lusterless pinkish-grey
Slowly sweeping the grime away.
This was a fools den
And trouble ran the show
Unbeknownst to them.
III
The city is bloated with tourists
And trouble despised tourists.
And their gremlins especially
Not for the reason one thinks
No not at all
It is anger
Frustration.
Abandonment.
Fear.
Every time one would go near
The loud booms of thunder
And thrashing rains soaked her body
She was back in the yard.
As some terrible exertion named Katrina
Lay waste to her old life.
Tied up like a beast
Expendable.
How could they do that to her?
IV
As some terrible exertion named Katrina
Lay waste to her old life.
Tied up like a beast
Expendable.
How could they do that to her?
No more little girls.
No more pigtails and
Absolutely no more sleepovers.
The trumpets grew louder
as trouble trots along side
Horse drawn carriages.
The smell of crawfish and daiquiris.
Her nose perks up.
She sees him.
V
Trouble is fast
Wickedly fast.
Terribly and utterly fast.
Sprinting past the old tombs and beaten down
cable cars.
Trouble is flying through the night
New Orleans beneath her chewed up ears.
Trouble feels joy
For the first time in a long time
Practically jumping into big hairy arms.
Trouble has stinky breath and an enormous tongue. “Shilo! Shilo! Oh I missed you so much girl”
Then Trouble remembered.
She remembered her name
in the arms of a new life.
This is the City
by Jamie Trope
​
I
This is where
The city lives.
Exposed to air,
A dirty skinned knee
Against the body of the land.
From the sill of a window
Lies the stars,
With planets standing up on
Knees just as dirty.
Air thin enough to gasp,
Hoping the window closed
Fast enough.
II
This is where
The city works.
Stone pillars span from
Floor to ceiling –
Flecks of dirt fall in
Snowflake formation from above.
Here, the butterflies squirm
Along the ground.
Pupa, larvae, ants.
They will never grow wings.
III
This is where
The city never goes,
Where the city used to live,
Where the city now throws its trash.
Splitting headache,
With the upperworld
Held above on strong shoulders.
Live moves slowly where the city never goes.
Ground thick with
Sluggish slime and ooze,
Holding the city structure together with a
Belt
Quickly running out of holes.
IV
This is where
The city’s Foolish venture,
Where they try to pry upon things past.
Dull minerals embedded,
The city’s rivets,
Can thrust the Foolish up towards the stars
And butterflies with real wings.
A shame no one ever returns –
Toxic air and all.
V
This is where
The city always sleeps.
This is the empty.
It is empty.
There is only
Empty.
The empty steals all else
And coughs back up
Nothing.
The empty pulls,
And keeps pulling.
This is where the city
Will lie soon enough,
And then it will be the empty.
And then there will be only
More levels
Above.
The city will sleep in dirt,
With wingless butterflies crawling around
On top,
And one day the foolish will venture to the city,
Just as they have always done.
The city sinks,
And this is not the first time.
The Empty was once the City.
Death's Respiration
by Emma Yurko
​
I
(One breath)
Breathing is a luxury
And it’s one I can no longer afford
I used to breath at my leisure
I no longer have this pleasure
Why didn't I treasure it more?
II
Breathing isn’t supposed to cost a thing
(Two breath)
Yet I owe so much debt
From the bet with Death
That left me wrecked
With no breaths left,
III
Gasping for that familiar taste
Similar to the nothingness in space
(Three breath)
I can’t find a trace
But if I keep breathing at this pace
I’m afraid I’ll be met with his grace,
IV
I know one things for certain
The curtains once risen
Are quickly closed
(Four breath)
And the audience has dozed
But I must keep myself composed,
V
As God’s breath leaves my system
I hope someone will grieve my existence
So as I prepare to leave
But not without my last inhalation
(Five breath)
The signal for my final exhalation,
I think of what I could have achieved
If I hadn’t been so naïve
Believing I could have deceived
Death in a game of peace
Now I must cease
(final breath).
​
The Monster Under the Bed
by Keely Sullivan
​
I
Spotlights slowly fading in and out of the lids of my eyes
Quivering from the circulating wind above
Pulling each layer closer and closer to my body
Fear filling the room as the twilight rises higher each second
​
II
The “monster under the bed” childish mantra hitting me with full force
The black hole peering at me every direction I turn
I can’t get away from it
The haunting complexion stuck in my head like glue
​
III
The Dark creeped closer to me
Starring at me intentionally
He left me with no escape plan
I forcefully shut my eyes.
​
IV
Finally, relief at once
He was gone but not completely
My pulse fluctuating up and down
Sleep tempted His disappearance
​
V
But even behind my eyelids
His face never seemed to fade
"My heart was bursting.
The moment had come. I was face to face with the angel of death."
The Girl Who Wanted
by Nina Pitonakova​
​
I.
Young and innocent
Free and rebellious
All the girl wanted to do was have some fun.
She didn’t want to be bothered by
Love.
She didn’t want to be held down by
School.
All she wanted was to have fun.
To have fun
A sense of escape,
A sense of escape
A feeling of freedom,
A feeling of freedom
Getting a taste of power.
​II.
Wild and lost
Sweet and found
All the girl wanted was to be saved.
She didn’t want to be bothered by
Running.
She didn’t want to be held down by
Fear.
All she wanted was to be saved.
To be saved
A sense of comfort,
A sense of comfort
A feeling of happiness,
A feeling of happiness
Finding a caretaker.
​III.
Selfish and narcissistic
Hardworking and kind
All the girl wanted was to be better.
She didn’t want to have
Forced friends.
She didn’t want to have
Everything handed to her.
All she wanted was to be better.
To be better
A sense of accomplishment,
A sense of accomplishment
A feeling of pride,
A feeling of pride
Realizing she’s now selfless.
​IV.
Honest and fair
Tough and smart
All the girl wanted was to be stronger.
She didn’t want to be
Picked on.
She didn’t want to be
Afraid.
All she wanted was to be stronger.
To be stronger
A sense of safety,
A sense of safety
A feeling of victory,
A feeling of victory
She was finally heard.
​V.
Addicted and depressed
Clean and happy
All she wanted was to break the cage.
She didn’t want to be
Stuck.
She didn’t want to
Alone.
All she wanted was to be free.
To be free
A sense of hope,
A sense of hope
A feeling of certainty,
A feeling of certainty
Making a key.