Column archives

Creative Writing

Issue 4 Poetry

July 31, 2019 5:24pm |

The Game Called Love By Marco Zhao, Guest Contributor  Love is an emotion,always in motion.Love leads to greatness,but when that greatness turns to weakness.Love is the one to blame,they say 'love is just a game.'Oh, Cupid aims,oh, Venus' fame.Everlasting love is a bluff,finding true love is enough. The Revealing By Marco Zhao, Guest Contributor  All things must come to an end,whether its positive or negative.I hope the rules can bend, but alas, this is always so…

Week 3 Poetry

July 24, 2019 4:29pm |

Alone By Marco Zhao, Outside Contributor A black cat bringing horror,                           and you feel like a foreigner                walking down a midnight street,                  listening to a melancholic beat.                      The fear that shivers down your spine,                     as if predators were creeping behind.                    The wind moans…

Memories

July 17, 2019 4:12pm |

By Marco Zhao, Guest Contributor  I lost a friend today,I'm trying not to be blue, butWho knows how many more will go,the clock is ticking.Savor every memory,for we don't know which is our last.Remember all that goes by,the love, the world around us,and even the disagreements, because it's those experiences that help us grow.Savor your time,for it does not last.The clock is ticking. …

Imagine

July 10, 2019 8:25pm |

By Marco Zhao, Contributing Writer Imagine Imagine this, You are the lord of darkness Demons surrounding you Sitting on the grand throne None dares to challenge Then, suddenly, up above you A hole in the ceiling appears And all chaos turns loose As you are blinded by the sharp daggers of light As you slowly recover You find yourself binded by chains Tons of heavy metal weighs you down Your fall from grace A high king of a realm to a lowly prisoner …

Iris

July 10, 2019 8:23pm |

By Maya Isabella Alva, Contributing Writer Iris.  The delicate petals Dyed bright indigo Make me wonder When did everything get so beautiful? Dark  But not drab Light But not joyous.  Something in between. Something different. Painted with amazing colors Drops of yellow Play in the middle Almost like the sun In empty space.  A blast of color In quilts of green. Stuck in a beautiful bliss A bliss simply called Iri…

Rolling Black, Rolling White

July 10, 2019 8:17pm |

By Saanie S. Moodie, Contributing Writer Rolling black, rolling white  A newspaper but instead of focusing on the white part of the paper  They focus on the black  The bold  The reason behind the season Black and white are the two colors  Oops, I meant “shades” but black stands for “colored”  Am I right or am I wrong  I am black, I am proud  Black lives matter  All lives matter  Wait.....  Are you undermining my statement by ma…

Too Slow, Too Fast

August 1, 2018 7:56pm | Poom Siripakorn

Based on Brown Girl Dreaming: End of Summer by Jacqueline Woodson Too fast to let the summer leave us, we meet, talk, walk, play together at 100th Exeter Summer it might be the last time that we will not see each other again. The first week of the summer, it felt like everything is very slow and boring. Some of us even homesick. Now, we nearly reach the end of 2018 summer. It will feel slow during the rst week, Mr. Schieber says. But the rest of the summer, time will fly and you will…

Faith in Fate

July 18, 2018 6:25pm | Derin Kutlay

It wasn't Britain's fault Neither your ancestors' nor yours It was how it all started, with fire And how it will all end in ice Not in the two poles but in our hearts. How we would die alone, a prophecy foretold How Anne would die violently, how Henry wouldn't remain victorious Told before Samuel met Lilith, Adam met Eve Now that you aren't here anymore, God stands beside your bed With luck and charm clear in the corner Wiping tears from laughter as the other's plan…

Broad Face

July 11, 2018 8:32pm | Derin Kutlay

I could really like a romantic pastoral life With the pastel pink aesthetic And a lovable farmer, hills of serene white grass A church we attend every Sunday Red cheeked children running along the erased and redrawn corners of lakes But there is the ignorance, the apathy Something inside twisting and turning to break away free A spit on the graves of close minded mayors And another on every alive and robust fellow With no admiration to the starry night, or its god. …

Where I am From

August 5, 2015 8:56pm | Isabella Luciani Abouhamad

Sunny and pretty days surround me, “click, click” photographs everywhere. I feel locked in a bubble, full of blue skies and pretty smiling faces. I am from the beauty of mountains, that cover you with a hug every morning. I am from family and friends, from pictures that keep memories. I am from helping others without expecting something back. From dedication and hard work. From a place full of heroes and leaders, but also from big lies and injustice. Peopl…