By Louisa Wang In honor of Valentine’s Day, I wanted to write an ode to myself because today is all about love and self-love.
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It’s Always April 02: “Abandoned House,” by Rosario Ferré
By Carys Bowen Poem: I chose today’s poem because it touches on a subject I was discussing recently with a friend—we were wondering what sadness would taste like. “Abandoned House/Casa Abandonado” by Rosario Ferré (daughter of Luis A. Ferré, the third elected governor of Puerto Rico) discusses what an abandoned house smells like, which turns…
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00:00:00
By Louisa Wang The ticking of the clock fades into the buzzing noise, But if you stop to listen you will hear The finite passing of each second Flawless and unfaltering in its meter. The sands of time glitter in the eyes of the makers Drifting closer to the end. What frivolous trouble we spent…
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Prism
By Noel Ullom To my friends that feel hidden, Unrecognized, Concealed in the shadows of the very figures You had expected to hold and lift you up: To my friends that have fought endless battles, Ones fought mostly behind the scenes Yet leave the scars of unbearable arrows Aimed indirectly yet completely at your heart…
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It’s Always April 01: “Pi,” by Wislawa Szymborska
By Carys Bowen 2020 has been and will (in all probability) continue to be a very crazy year, no matter how many times that gets said. I didn’t know just how much the year affected me until April got near to ending. April is National Poetry Month, and the Cuyahoga County Public Library celebrates with…
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Fall
By Ishita Kopparapu To the eyes so colorful To the nose so pungent To the hands so soft To the mouth so full of spice To the ears so blissful To the eyes so colorful They see a spectrum of colors They see the beautiful pumpkins They see the leaves touching the ground ever so…
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A Love Letter to Patriotism
by Torteon A love letter to patriotism: You are the Sun, and I am only an asteroid, cold rock orbiting your brilliance. I fell, spinning, into your greedy embrace. America, I wonder if you will ever truly see me. Curiosity brings me to the water’s edge—what do you see first? That the eyes are open…
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