We are back for a new year with some editors from last year, some new editors, and lots of new ideas to make this year's magazine posts grand! Enjoy our opening pieces for the year, and look for a few more soon. In the meantime, join us at the annual Holicong Coffeehouse, the evening of November 4th to hear Holicong students perform their own music and poetry.
Exercises for an Artist
(after Tanya Shadrick, after Wendell Berry)
Stare at the beauty
Analyze the meaning, the story
Pick up your pencil, pen, paper
Let your hand flow lightly
A small moth flapping its
wings and gliding in the air
Ask: are you happy with it?
If not, change it, recreate
it, take flight again
Strike your pen down like
lightning
Give life to your art.
by Nia H., Grade 9
 |
| Artwork by Mackenzie J., Grade 9 |
Today
I saw a deer,
Munching
on some grass.
Wrapped
in a golden blanket of sunshine,
Showered
in warmth.
Still,
he seemed lonely,
Sitting
on that hill alone.
I
brought him a friend,
A
small puppy.
The
puppy was as dark as the mud beneath the grass,
His
fur as soft as a bird's feathers,
His
goofy smile stretching for miles,
As
he lopes around the grassy hill.
They
have fun, those two.
Maybe
they understand each other?
Maybe
they never really had a barrier between them at all
Because
of their love for the sun.
When
the deer grows old, he can no longer dance with the dog;
Maybe
he doesn't want to.
But
the dog stays loyal, old as well,
And
stays by his side.
But then the deer found the one he holds close,
And he no longer wants to be with the dog.
Though the dog indeed was his best friend,
Their dancing was already out of sync.
Today
I saw a baby boy,
Sucking
on his finger.
Wrapped
tightly in cotton blankets,
Showered
in hugs and kisses.
Still,
he seemed lonely,
Sitting
in that cradle alone.
I
brought him a friend,
One
he would remember, long into his life.
A
small, stuffed puppy.
by Richard W., Grade 8
 |
| Artwork by Julia N., Grade 9 |
My Off-White Sweater
That long-lasting embrace of soft polyester
My
only lover, my off-white sweater
A
shield from the cold, the chill, the wind
A
shield from the sorrow, and all I’ve sinned.
It
holds my strengths and happiness within,
weaved
through the stitches, weaved into my skin.
For
the so-called sweater, not sweater at all
But
a layer of protection, with it’s help I wont fall.
My
sweater holds me when no one else will,
The
holes in my heart, my sweater will fill.
The
soft polyester will be there forever,
My
only lover, my off-white sweater.
 |
| Artwork by Richard W., Grade 8 |
Finding
Old Comforts In A Fresh Start
Stop
and look around.
Take:
1, Scene: 1, Episode: 1, Season: 1.
I
swear, I’ve seen you before.
In
another life.
Welcome
back, I missed those eyes.
My
Hiraeth.
by Jaime P., Grade 9
