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Volume 2 Spring 2017 Volume 2 Spring 2017 The Quill of the Mind Cygnus Volume 2 Spring 2017 A Message from the Quill of the Mind’s Advisor Table of Contents o have a two-volume literary magazine or creative journal in a Thigh school is rare; I am honored to have worked with the writers Cell 5 who share their works with you in this, Cygnus, the second volume of Summer Greens 5 Two Sides of a Mask 6 Quill of the Mind. The first volume, Orion’s Belt, is also being pub- Poem 7 lished at this time with corrections and edits missed in the rush to meet Operation Cowboy 7 a deadline last December. I am proud to know both volumes, twin con- Feb. 20, 2017 4:19 A.M. Thoughts 8 stellations of student creativity, will be on our web site for the summer. Thoughts on Words 9 Next year as we begin another opportunity to publish student work, I Writing A Poem: A Failed Attempt Number 104 9 hope Quill will be as rich in creative talent as this year’s. Warm Home 9 The Dark Lord 10 Color 10 Nancy Dashcund Amiens 10 Advisor A Play in One Act--The Shakespeare Club 11 Grey 29 Commencement 31 A Literary Take on a Good Meme 32 The Waiting Room--One Act Play 34 An Ordinary Day 38 Ice 38 Collected Poems of Lou Craig 39 The Smell of Death 40 The Weight of the World 40 Under the Lilacs 40 Snowball 40 Verdun 41 Three Seasons 41 Three Smiths 41 Chosen 42 Stardust Man 43 Editorial and Production Team Cell Anonymous “Why, friend, you know what I must do. Here follows a list of the editors and producers who worked on the production of this magazine. This is what the poem has been leading to!” These people have put in hours of their time to be a part of creating this magazine. When two cells come on out to play And with a step, and with a grimace, Without them, this dream wouldn’t have become a reality. And in the silent stream they lay she reached her foot up, and, without a miss… They soon stumble upon a fish, struggling in a Petri dish. She slammed it down! And suddenly… Cell 1 cried for the first time in recent history: Layout Design: Contributing Writers and Poets Kenny Latulippe (Grade 10) The cells held out their hands right then And took the fish back to their den “MY TOE, SIS!” Sylvia Officer (Grade 10) Teebh Al Freihy “Hey, there, thanks!” He grinned in glee. Ashley Chepulis “You’ve helped to make history!” Amanda Clarke Lou Craig Cover Design: “History?” They asked in doubt Summer Greens Skylar DiPietro Maggie Valvano (Grade 9) “Why, yes, indeed! Come on out!” Keddy Duato Rebecca Gosiewski Recolored by Kenny Latulippe (Grade 10) And out walked Thomas Jefferson Jessica gagnon With the Constitution in hand Rebecca Gosiewski Summer days dawn with pale pastels, Henry Jaques sunlight falling over dew-lit lawns. “You guys really proved yourselves! Title: Phoebe Johnson Morning forests waking slowly You stopped my fish from being shelved!” Alina Parsons (Grade 10) Kenny Latulippe After a cool night filled with minty starlight. The cells just stopped and thought a bit Valerie Matarazzo Sunlight filters through the leaves, But decided not to think too much of it Miranda Oveson Turning their undersides translucent Editors: Diana Le Like a green peridot ring Then Thomas Jefferson walked out gleaming in the window of a jewelry shop, Kenny Latulippe (Grade 10) Yvette Pallazola Yelling that he’d bail them out just opened for the day on Main Street. Kat Swenson (Grade 9) Allison Richardson If they ever got in jail Green like the tubes of paint a little girl bought Jessica Gagnon (Grade 9) Zach Robinson “Go on, please, give me a wail!” in the art store next door. Hallie Gagnon (Grade 9) Kat Swenson She brings them home, Henry Jaques (Grade 9) Of course, cells can’t be put in there the bottoms of plastic bags brushing Diana Le (Grade 9) Unless they commit something… bare over blades of grass, Elsie Ronan (Grade 9) Photography And by bare, I mean bare of life shaking away the last of last night’s rain. Diana Le All meaning sliced out with a knife She hurries up to her room, Advisor: Hallie Gagnon scrambles over her oak-framed bed, Nancy Dashcund So of course, killing another cell across emerald covers scattered with paintbrushes Would probably count as well colored with chipped mossy paint, When Cell 1 committed the act settling at the window It was worse than a bear attack! overlooking the farm next door. Tiny fences enclose rolling jade pastures, Of course, since they both were cells filling with horses just freed from sleepy barn stalls. And basically the same as well Farmhands in olive green fleeces They couldn’t discover whose soul was dead Cross the stable yard with fiery chestnuts, so they threw them both in instead! Mahogany bays, And ebony black horses, Cell 2 was quite sad about this, Setting them free into the morning green. and at that moment, made a wish! “In two years, and without a ‘no’, I want to step on my sister’s toe.” So two years past, and deep in crime, Cell 1 had become a mime! Of course, they could no longer talk, so to Jefferson they couldn’t bawk. But at that moment, suddenly, the wish had come true! And with glee, our friend Cell 2 comes over here, and shoots Cell 1 a silent leer. 44. 5. Two Sides Of A Mask Stardust Man Rebecca Gosiewski Kenny Latulippe Who am I? I’m in no rush, I thought, What eyes do I hide behind staring down the street. this mask of shadows and glossy black raven For once, I’m in no rush, Feathers and bared teeth of wild wolves bounding through snow? I have some time to think. But wait…could this dark be not on the outside… You see, the clouds had opened up that day, but inside, on the back of a white mask gleaming and unleashed a mighty downpour. with sparkling diamonds that catch the light around I like the rain, me, reflecting it outward, instead of absorbing it in? I so here I’ll stay, could not, I would not, I can’t! I refuse, and it was would jacketless in the storm. make no difference, the rain pooling inside is too much, too deep, to even try, so why bother? I stood on the street corner, I’m drowning, I can’t swim; there’s no one to throw that uneventful day, Me a life jacket. The storm is growing. I gave myself a moment to feel I need to know. the forgiving summer rain. Who am I? I closed my eyes and opened my heart, I am the sun I let my mind go, I let my doubt rot. on wooden kitchen floors For a moment in time, the rain droplets were stars, Warm and smooth beneath sock-clad The wind was simply the orbit of mars. Feet. The open window letting in the ocean breeze I The pitter-patter of the rain were rockets passing by, can feel it sifting through my hair, blowing away the storm, an endless procession of new things to find. my mask, so my tired eyes can feel its freshness. My body was stardust, my mind was a comet, I am the raucous seagulls. wheeling overhead, my limbs were shooting stars reaching out of their sockets. Free, unbound, soaring above the world. Maybe someone at home would see me soaring, I am the pounding waves on the shore, and the sound maybe someone somewhere else will notice my yearning. of guitars and harps and jaded saxophones under starry skies, and the smell of grilling food by a campfire surrounded by friends My eyes snapped open that sweet summer day, and maybe a dog or two. I am a classic car roaring down I was grounded on Earth and that’s where I’d stay. an empty highway, laughing into the wind, With a sigh I quickened my pace to make it back home, dust trailing out behind me. I can’t wander forever, This is who No matter how much I wish to roam. I am. 6. 43. Poem Operation Cowboy Ashley Chepulis Rebecca Gosiewski “He ducked his head, bringing his eyes closer, the ancient gaze pulling me into light and dark, sun and moon, Lin and Gan. I have been walking for awhile, with no clue for how long He was birth and death. He was Hua. But all is still and quiet with not another broken soul in sight The Second World War was starting to wind down He was the Mirror Dragon. The Lost Dragon.” 115 My clothes are worn, wrist marked and I have no destination Yet Podhajsky was pacing the floor with a frown. and all that I can hear is a seagull’s cry and the rushing of water His horses were in trouble Chosen With the Soviets bearing down on the double. Rebecca Gosiewski As I walk on I once again must face the bridge All help cut off and no way out And out of habit, decided to go past the railing to the edge Then he saw it- “Patton!” he called with a shout. Five hundred years without a sound To look at the swelling of the sea and the barren sky A war hero with no more war to fight Lying in wait.
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