by Alexa Wescott Alexa Wescott is a 17 yeard-old Junior at FHS. He required the bitter cold,
The touch of ice made him whole, He hated warmth of any sort, That’s why he was alone, What a surprise to not love another, Until tragic demise, He had learned the bitter loss, The needles in his heart, Pricked like rose thorns on thick vines, For in frigid conditions he remembered, A sentiment, To his frozen heart. She had tan skin, The sun’s radiance was in the palm of her hand, Buried in forced artificial heat, Teased by subtle breeze, She lays there in sweat, To feel her pulse, Desiring the sound, Of rapid obligatory beats, Not the space between, She hoped for it not to stop, A sentiment, To her wind up heart. When the heatwaves changed course, Accommodations were made, Flights reminding them of a forever vacay, An escape due to circumstance, Never standing in one place, Never to experience all of the seasons, Nor another common face, Relying on things out of control, To take over them whole, In an ongoing stymie life, To sacrifice their own self interest, To outlive their time. They would meet while crossing paths A simple touch could never last, For when within reach, Their hearts desired a single direction, Their stability was second to necessary, Their hearts off beat, Yet tied in sync, Until they both lay dead of what once was, Undesirable things. by Jackie L i fear your eyes.
they’re a gateway into what you think… what you want… what you love. they’re a soft gray that stains my mind. warm but intense are they when your gaze meets mine. so strong it feels, that i have to look away. so captivating are they that i stare anyway. when they’re on me, your words ring true as if they themself whisper, “i love you”. if i look back at you, i accept your words. and i feel the same but accepting hurts. truly my fear doesn’t come from your eyes on me but the thought that if we’re truly happy, what disaster beginning could this be? by Jackie L Green with envy because I knew you wouldn’t love me
So caught up in all her yellows It’s sad… That the only time you saw me was with light casted down on me, But even then, the only spectrum you saw was her. Orange signs posted around me and the flags all bleeding red couldn’t deter me Because to me, you were the perfect violet. Sadness mixed with passion inside a bow-wrapped gift which I thought that I could unwrap. Until all of your true colors poured out. by Jackie L Sheer naivety soothed my doubts.
Hope sheltered my emotions. Happiness blinded the truth. A truth that I was once hyper-aware of but hid away from the present. The winds of an end felt like failure, So I worked harder to avoid it. Learning from the previous layer, Building higher to escape, And doubting the signs that came my way. Now at the top, I could smile and gaze at what’s been done. Everything felt perfect until the flaws began to show. Desperate to fill the cracks and repair what could be fixed But I know that it’s too late. The gust has passed and everything I’ve tried to keep is scattered on the ground. by Jonathan H Jonathan is a Junior in Franklin High School who also participates in Boy Scouts. Speech 1
There comes a point where you simply have to accept the new reality of the emerging communism and leave the past behind; we are no longer what we used to be, and to believe otherwise makes you nothing more than a blind man. We, the Chinese people, endured hostilities of barbaric, insolent fools who know nothing of civilization, who only know how to slaughter their way to the top. We’ve endured the white man’s self righteous, pretentious, greedy nature as they pick and choose what they want from our land as if we’re nothing more than a buffet for them to gorde themselves with. We’ve endured violations of our human rights by our overseas neighbors, no, ravenous monsters, as they exploited our loved ones who became nothing more than objects for them to abuse and pleasure themselves while selfishly encroaching on more of our sacred continent. At what point do we say enough is enough; hasn’t our endurance been tested long enough? History has made it apparent that our once prideful middle-of-the-world kingdom has dissolved into the world’s favorite subservient country that is awfully easy to capitalize on -- but not for any longer. by Khadijah Bangurah Khadija Bangurah is a Junior at FHS who enjoys watching YouTube as well as drawing and all types of art. She plans to major in economics when she goes to college. The chlorine fumes burnt my nose hair as I soaked in the mustard colored tub.
“Ouch!” I winced as the liquid entered old cuts and wounds. A tear rolled down my cheek as the gas irritated my eyes. Despite this, I had to stay strong. I was tired. Tired of being ugly. Tar Baby. Darkie. Burnt. I had heard it all. I wanted to finally be that beautiful blonde, blue- eyed woman I saw in the covergirl magazines. I wanted to be like Heather. Heather got all the boys without trying, and everyone liked her for her beauty. Her amazing, olive tone skin with her long, brunette hair. I, on the other hand, with my dark skin, kinky, short hair, and my big nose got no one. After this month, however, I would have taken a big step in the positive direction. My lips started to separate and my cheeks started to rise as I imagined how beautiful I would be after a month of taking these. If this bath succeeds, I would move onto my face, no matter the detrimental consequences. I would be as light as my half sister who my father favored over me. The water flowing down my cheeks finally came to a halt. I would finally be pretty. I squeezed my eyes and looked at the brown clock on the wall. Only 1 hour left until the start of my new, beautiful skin. Suddenly, I heard the keys to the front door start to jingle. by Bhavya S Bhavya is a 16 year old student. She likes to enjoy different kinds of art. Egg cracks on the horizon
And spreads on upper blue bays Coral magenta swirls on the orb With reaching rays It’s like a warm goodbye with lovely affection How pretty, darling How gorgeous, darling Golden fireworks fall from the sky Smooth cream puffs voyage across left and right, side to side, as The hot breeze kisses your skin Feel it, let your heart fly, take a deep breath It’s the sensation of summer shimmers Look at the sunset Do you like how the sky glitters? Honey silhouette That paints the world above me The air tastes like herbal tea Eyeful aura of summer shimmers A sunset I won't forget by Aditi Jacob Aditi Mary Jacob is a Junior who loves playing piano and cello, performing in musicals, catching waves, and (on rainy days) a hot cup of tea and a good book. THE CANYON
Once, when we were kids, we would explore the canyon. Always, we held the fear of rattlesnakes in our chests. There was a tree with a tire swing, off limits. There was a Trader Joe’s bag, crumpled by wind and stuffed with ratty clothes. We thought both the bag and tire swing belonged to a wizard. That the scattered sticks were wands. But the tire swing disappeared a long time ago. Nobody can remember if we found the rope frayed, or if the whole thing simply vanished. If that meant the wizard really was a wizard. by Ayanna Hope Ayanna is a 17 year-old Junior at FHS who plans to become a nurse practitioner. She enjoys writing as a way to get away from the struggles of the real world. She strives to always do her best, and endeavors to ensure her work reflects that goal. Being Black is something to be proud to be
But carries a weight heavier than the heaviest animal Being Black gets you labeled Gets you on the list as number one suspect Or dead on the ground as if you didn’t matter Being Black comes with the tails of our ancestors Their trials and tribulations as slaves to the Masters who imprisoned them. Being Black comes with our hair From curly to coily Too Thick or Thin Beauty in every way by Ayanna Hope Ayanna is a 17 year-old Junior at FHS who plans to become a nurse practitioner. She enjoys writing as a way to get away from the struggles of the real world. She strives to always do her best, and endeavors to ensure her work reflects that goal. I am who I am
From the color of my skin To the texture of my hair. I am who I am From the trials and tribulations faced throughout my life From the experiences that have crafted me into the person, I am now. I am who I am Because of my mother, the woman who has made me into who I am. I am who I am Because I am strong and unafraid of what others think of me. I am who I am And I am proud to be me. |
About EpiphanyEpiphany Literary Magazine is a safe space for students at Franklin High School to share their creativity. |