Watermark2011

Cover photograph by Señorita Kelley

Pope John Paul II High School Hyannis, MA

June 2011

Watermark

Watermark

This is the second annual edition of Pope John Paul II high school’s literary magazine, titled Watermark. Before you read on, you should know a little about

where the title’s name came from. The title Watermark hearkens back to older days, and incorporates a variety of symbolism-both literary and ocean-inspired. What a fitting title for a publication put out by a school on the

Cape! Watermark has grown significantly in this edi-tion, both in the quality and number of submissions as well as the amount of students involved in its publica-tion. This was the first year that Creative Writing was offered at Pope John Paul II High School, and at least

one submission from each student in the course is featured in Watermark. This edition was lovingly as-sembled by the three remaining students left in Cre-

ative Writing after the seniors graduated. This edition of Watermark is multi-faceted. The works within the

magazine consist of: short stories, poems, non-fiction pieces, one-act plays and beautiful artwork.

The Watermark staff thanks all of this year’s contribu-tors for their words and art, plus the administration,

and our angels of digital art (Ms. Kelley and Sean Banks), for making this literary magazine possible. We

hope you enjoy it!

-The Editors, Watermark 2011

Eric CabralRobby Dombrowski

Ali Robert

Summer Rain Emily Fennucio

Melody Liz Rossi

The Reflection Hannah Dulmaine

Egypt Anika Bieg

Onset Horizons Jeffrey Born

This is War Eric Cabral

Untitled Eric Cabral

Along the Ocean’s Edge Victoria Sirois

The Sonnet of the Spider Cole Conway

Friendship Samantha Mathieu

Daddy’s Princess Samantha Mathieu

Untitled Tatiana Diaz-Lane

Lunchtime Lipo Ali Robert

Untitled Joanna Fernandez

The Stop Emily DeHainut

and Anika Bieg

Collage Poem Kaitlin Pupa

Untitled Sean Harrington

Untitled Tatiana Diaz-Lane

Depths Hannah Dulmaine

Eggs Brendan Lawlor

TABLE OF CONTENTS

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Untitled Cassie VanKleef

Ship Wrecked Hearts Jeffrey Born

Poema para la clase de Espanole 3 Tyler Botelho

Girl of a Thousand Eyes Ken Stanley

Break Jacquelyn Fellows

What Brings Two People Together is Not Always What Breaks Them Apart

Greta Bieg

The Dying Songbird Christian McCarthy

Reality Is My Anchor; Your Nightmare Is My Ship

Andrew Eddy

The Places I’ve Been Mike Burlingame

A Scurvy Tale Mike Burlingame

Doubt Me Robby Dombrowski

The Tackled Rylan Richard

What is Love? Greta Bieg

The Fall Anika Bieg

Untitled Tyler Burke

New Hampshire 2010 Sean Banks

Idealist Emily Maguire

Scent Emily Maguire

Untitled Patrick Vaughn

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Summer Rain

The heavy summer air was thick in my lungs

The sky was ready to bust,

So was puberty.

Shoes were an option; fun, a necessity.

A few sprinkles turned to a downpour of laughter.

The tears of the sky kissed our freckles

And we splashed back in agreement,

Sending water bullets soaring up from the ground with one fierce jump.

My hair clung to my face as I clung to my youth

Little did we know that all rain showers must end.

Emily Fenuccio

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Melody

The song inside my heartIs resounding a melodyRanging from baritone to sopranoFrom ledger lines to ledger linesThough the tempo may change,The key remains the same.Listening,Your song is in the same keyWill you be my harmony?

Liz Rossi

Greta Bieg

The Reflection

Look in the mirror-what do you see?Is it power, is it truth, is it integrity?Look in the mirror-what do you see?Is it control, is it lies, is it reality?

Look in the mirror-what do you see?Is it happy, is it sad, or is it free?Look in the mirror-what do you see?Is the reflection staring back at you who you want to be?

Hannah Dulmaine

Josiah Boyar

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Egypt

For justice we fight.We fight for freedom

And purpose on Earth.The fight goes on

forever and never dies.When we stop someone

Starts.The fight for

What you want comesFrom your blood.To the heart and

Travels through your Veins to your fingers,

Toes, and head.Your blood hasAll the power.

It keeps us livingWhich keeps us fighting.

Although, we say we Hate fighting. It’s

In us and it isUs. We are the fight...

So we fight.

Anika Bieg

Onset Horizons

Into the sea we sailThe water so cold and frail

The sun is fadingAnd so are we

The sight of us is draining, drainingBattered ships and broken boardsSo sick of what my life’s become

So far away from all we know and all we’re ever fromInto Poseiden’s mouth we sail

We can’t escape the wrathAbandon ship

And sink in the seaI have no lungs to breathe

As the weight of the world crashes down on meLooking up to the heavens

As it shines back down on meMy eyes close

My heart sinks 50 fathoms deepAll hands on deck

The captain speaksYells the order. Kill at will!!!

The cannons roarAnd break down the door

The blood drains on the deckOff the floor boards and into the seasThe ocean turns red. Red as can be

Screams of grown menFill the air

Consumed by the earthNever to be seen again

Jeffrey Born

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This is War

Holding back her tears, afraid as ever, she kissed her husband goodbye. Her husband just left for the War. Days have passed since his departure and she begins to grow worried. She hates the phone. Every time it rings, her heart skips a beat. Not knowing weather or not this is just a typical phone call, or if it is the devastating news of her husband’s death frightens her. Weeks have gone by, now she’s depressed. Having no one to talk to, no one to comfort her, no one to tell her everything will be okay makes her sad. Months have passed, and now she is broken. Yesterday she received the heart-wrenching news of the death of her beloved husband. She is broken. This is war.

Eric Cabral

Josiah Boyar

The Earth warms, as the sun rises to the sky.The day passes,The sun lulls a sweet goodbye.

You lay in bedReminiscing the sweet summer day.As you gather with your friends and relax by the bay.

You walk along the beach, the water cool between your toes.You try to avoid the shellsSome short, like thorns on a rose.

Then you gather around the fire as the night brings in cool air.You laugh, joke and relax, living free without a care.

The Earth warms up, as the sun rises to the sky.The day passes,The sun lulls a sweet goodbye.

Eric Cabral

Eric Cabral

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Along the Ocean’s Edge

Along the ocean’s edge I wait.All time has stopped since you have gone,

To meet the water’s darkest fate.The gloom of night never to become dawn.

The rolling white caps of the waves,Are what is left with me.

Nowhere to rest in peaceful graves,Because you died at sea.

Victoria Sirois

Pat Ryan

Ben Gibson

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Brendan Mulhearn

Shane Lawlor

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Victoria Sirois

Caroline Wojciechowicz

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Cassie VanKleef

The Sonnet of the Spider

I spin my web to catch my prey, as I wait, reclined.Slowly I move around.Then the flies buzz, they wish to dine,I dare not make a sound. Only when one considerate fool,becomes entranced by my beauty,does he himself get caught in my spool,looking, as always, quite fruity.I make my way over to this thing,him eager to gaze at my physique.I move in, so close to him,that he cannot even speak.I coddle him with my legs,and tighten my grip on his flesh.Until, at last, I give him one final kiss,Thus entombing him in my mesh.This may sound odd, but you must understand!A girl has to maintain her figure.After all, and most of you can agree, better die with a bang than a whimper.

Cole Conway

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Friendship

Friendship has no limitations,Telling what the other is feeling merely by observa-

tions.A true friend is hard to find,

But you are what I have always had in mind.

You come to my rescue,Whenever I am feeling blue.

I’m always there for you,And you the same for me.

I consider you a part of my family tree.

You are the definition of a best friend,And I know we will have each other until the end.

I love you more than you know,This for the world to show.

Samantha Mathieu

Jenna Cornwall

Joanna Fernandez

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Kiley Hoffman

Daddy’s Princess

My daddy always called me his princessI dressed up in big poofy dressJust so I could feel like I was.I played ring-around-the-rosie

With my brother on one side, andMy stuffed Barney on the other,

Not knowing what the song really meant.I would sit on my coffee table in my dalmation

printeddress,

Singing the Beatles, along with my daddy.When asked who I love I would always say “Dad-

dy.”I hated walking, my daddy carried me.

My daddy always called me his princess,And I was.

Samantha Mathieu

Kelsey Sabens

Mackenzie Johnson

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Riley Major

“Hello?” Rebecca called out. “Is anyone there?”It was a Friday night, and she was taking a quick shower before what was sure to be the biggest party of the weekend. She was excited, but, as soon as she had finished her shower, something felt off. No one else was in the communal shower, which was definitely not normal, especially before such a huge party. Rebecca toweled off, grabbed her shower caddy, and began walking towards the exit. When she was only a few steps away from the door, all of the lights turned off. “What the hell?!” Rebecca exclaimed. She continued walking in the direction towards the door, and reached out for the doorknob. However, when she tried turning it, it wouldn’t budge. “Haha, very funny,” she remarked sarcastically. “Come unlock the door. I don’t have time for this tonight.”There was no answer. The lights remained off, the bathroom remained eerily silent, and the doorknob remained unmovable. After a few more attempts at opening the door and/or finding the light switch, Rebecca gave up. “Okay, the joke’s over,” Rebecca sighed in frustration. “I have things to do and places to be. I really don’t have time for this.” Once again, there was no response. But this time, Rebecca heard someone – or something – breathing in close prox-imity to her. “Hello? I can hear you. I know you’re there.” Rebecca peered into the darkness and contin-ued listening for another sound or some form of in-dication that someone else was still in the room with her. The silence in the room was like a heavy blan-ket, and she longed to hear something – anything –

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that would break through the surrounding eeriness. Enough was enough. Someone was clearly very bored with their life and had nothing else to do but mess with her, and Rebecca didn’t have the time or patience to politely wait for them to stop. She began walking in the general direction of the other door of the bathroom, treading slowly as to avoid running into anything. Suddenly, somewhere in the commu-nal bathroom, a shower turned on. The abrupt burst of water hitting the floor startled Rebecca. “What the hell?” Rebecca yelled. “I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish here, but the joke’s over. I’m leaving!” Her outburst of frustration was met with the sound of two more showers turning on. The steam from the showers encircled her, making the air warm and damp. Rebecca started towards the exit again, more quickly this time, as someone proceeded to turn on all the showers in the room. When Rebecca finally found the doorknob to the opposite entrance, she found that it too was immovable. “Open the goddamn door!” Rebecca shouted. By this time, the steam from all the show-ers had turned the bathroom into a sauna. Rebecca wasn’t sure whether the heat she was feeling was from the steam or her mounting frustration. Just as she felt she was about to explode, the lights turned on. Although the immense amount of steam clouded her vision considerably, Rebecca could make out a figure emerging through the fog. About time, Rebecca thought in annoyance. When the figure had finally made their way through the steam, Rebecca was relieved to see a familiar face. Although she was annoyed they had

decided to play such an obnoxious prank on her, she was nonetheless glad it wasn’t some serial killer or someone equally dangerous. “Oh, it’s you,” Rebecca half-laughed. “You scared me half to death. I thought…” She trailed off when she saw the glint of the blade in their hand. “W-what the hell is that? P-p-put it away. T-that’s not e-even funny.” “It’s not supposed to be,” said the figure with a menacing smirk. And with that, they raised the shiny silver knife over their head and plunged it deep into Rebecca’s throat, before she had the chance to scream – or even react. As Rebecca hit the floor, clutching her neck and gasping for air, the figure stood over her, mak-ing sure the job was done. It wasn’t until a pool of Rebecca’s blood began mixing with the hot running water of the showers that they finally turned to leave.

∞●∞ It was the second murder on campus in a week. The first murder, in which Jennifer Evans’s throat had been violently slashed just days ago, had been considered an isolated incident up until Rebecca’s lifeless body was also discovered. Upon closer examination, the police discovered that the two college girls’ murders were indeed the work of the same person. In spite of their attempts to keep the information on the down low, news of the two connected murders spread fast. Soon, worried col-lege students swarmed the latest crime scene, des-perate for any scrap of information they could get their hands on. When reporters began showing up and the crowd began getting out of control, Officer

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Nelson decided to hold a press conference to de-brief the student body and general public about the events that had transpired over the past few days. Although he had held off on holding a conference after the first murder until the police department had gotten further in the investigation, the second mur-der made holding such a conference a necessity. The possibility of a serial killer on campus was too much of a threat to ignore. The next day, thousands of students and a few lucky reporters with press passes gathered in the huge college auditorium, waiting to hear the information they had been seeking since the initial murder. The usual roar of chatter amongst students was almost nonexistent; a somber silence filled the room. Officer Nelson stood behind the podium, scanned the crowd for a few moments, cleared his throat, and began speaking. “I understand that many rumors have been circulating around about the two crimes that took place on this campus,” he began. “I’d like to take this time to clear up any misunderstandings and help put your minds somewhat at rest. First off, the murders of Jennifer Evans and Rebecca Clark were crimes committed by the same person. However, I do not believe any of you are in any immediate danger. The crimes were committed in such a way that leads us to believe these were not random at-tacks. The killer knew both of these young women personally and may have harmed them as an act of vengeance.” “Does this mean that the killer is still loose on campus?” a reporter shouted out, notebook in hand. “We will be taking questions at the end,”

another officer called back over the worried murmurs of the crowd. “Anyway,” Officer Nelson continued, “we are going to do everything in our power to protect this campus and all its resi-dents. Officers will be stationed around each building on campus as a security precaution. Instead of walking from building to building, we encourage you to ride the shuttle busses. If you are walking, you are encouraged to use the buddy system. Have at least one other person with you at all times. In addition to these guidelines, an 11pm curfew will be established. Everyone must be in their dorm by 11pm at latest, no excuses. Meanwhile, we will be hard at work gathering evidence, conducting interviews, and continuing our investigation. Jennifer Evans and Rebecca Clark’s deaths will not be in vain; we will find who did this and ensure it will never happen again. We will catch this killer, they will be brought to justice, and you will all receive the closure you need.” A few sobs broke out in the audience, clearly mourners of the two deceased members of the Westminster College com-munity. Most remained silent, mulling over what the officer had just told them, but others nervously began talking to each other. Although they did not show it, the officers were just as anxious and unsure as they were. They were from the department of a relatively small area; most of them had never dealt with a crime of this magnitude before. Officer Nelson cleared his throat again, then began calling on the reporters, hoping that none of them would catch onto the fact that he and his department, so far, had come up empty on any leads. As the question and answer segment of the conference went on, the murderer caught onto what the students, faculty, and reporters didn’t: the police had no leads, suspects, or anything else that would help their investiga-tion. The cops know nothing. And perhaps, they thought with a satisfied smile, they never will. Tatiana Diaz-Lane

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Ashley Laird

Lunchtime Lipo

Setting: David’s Bridal, N.Y.C, Friday May 13th

Characters: Penelope (Bride), Ashley (seamstress)

Props: Wedding dress, scissors, ribbon, lace, glue gun

Plot: Penelope is getting married to her true love Oscar. To-day she is going to get her wedding dress at David’s Bridal. Unfortunately, she encounters many problems with her now not –fitting dress. The seamstress is now help whatsoever. On top of it all her wedding is tomorrow.

Penelope walks hurriedly off the busy streets of N.Y.C into David’s Bridal. The bell dings as the door opens and secre-tary looks up from desk.

Secretary: (in a French accent) Welcome to David’s Bridal. I’m Chloé. How may I help you?

Penelope: Yes, I’m here for my 1:00 appointment to get my wedding dress fitted.

Chloé: Who is your appointment with?

Penelope: Ashley, I think her name was.

Chloé: (Into walkie talkie) Ashley, your 1:00 is here. (At Pe-nelope) If you tell me the item number of your dress I will get it from the back for you.

Penelope: Oh thank you. It’s 1126743.

Chloé: (writing it down) Okay. (Gets dress from back then

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returns to Penelope) Please follow me to the fitting rooms. (They walk down a hallway until they reach the farthest door) Ashley should be waiting for you inside. (Walks away)

Penelope walks into room tripping over an assortment of dresses and nearly dodges stepping on a pin cushion.

Ashley: (in an indistinguishable accent) Ah Penny! Hello! How are my dear?

Penelope: It’s Penelope and I’m go-

Ashley: Well let’s not waste time, go try your dress on! Oh you will look exquisite!

Penelope: Oh Okay. (Starts heading to dressing rooms on opposite side of room) I’ll just go ov-

Ashley: No don’t go that way I didn’t finish cleaning that side. Go to the changing rooms back the way you came in. Much cleaner.

Penelope looks in the direction she was headed then back to the way she came in. The only difference is that the unclean side had a few more dresses on the ground and a few pairs of scissors lying there as well.

Penelope: (trying to be nice) Oh it’s not that messy.

Ashley: (waves it off) Hurry! Hurry! (Gently pushes Penel-ope into changing room)

Penelope: (while changing) Uhh. Uh Oh.

Ashley: Everything okay in there dear?

Penelope: Well it seems as though my dress won’t go on over my hips.

Ashley: Oh I’m sure you just didn’t unlace it all the way. Open the door and let me help.

Penelope: (opens door while trying to pull dress down over her hips) This is not good. Bad. Very bad.

Ashley: (tugging at dress) Oh my. Hm. You seem to have gained a few extra pounds. 10 I would say.

Penelope: (gasps) Excuse me!

Ashley: Only the truth dear. Maybe you should have been watching what you were eating.

Penelope: Well I kinda lost track of time and thought I had more time than I did and now I am rushing to get every-thing done.

Ashley: Tisk Tisk. Maybe a diet could help you lose the weight you gained in time for the wedding.

Penelope: Over night liposuction?

Ashley: (laughs) Sure. Got a million dollars? (Laughs) well don’t fret, you still have time.

Penelope: uhhh…

Ashley: (fiddling with dress and contemplating what to do) Something else wrong dear?

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Penelope: I thought I told when my wedding was.

Ashley: You did sweetie. And I’m sorry if you’re upset that I couldn’t get you in here at the usual six to eight weeks before the wedding, but when you called I was extremely busy and couldn’t fit you in ‘till now. You’ll be fine with only four weeks.

Penelope: (still looking distressed) uhh..

Ashley: If I can’t fix it, I can always send it somewhere…

Penelope: The weddings tomorrow.

Ashley: (stops fiddling with dress and stares at her) Tomor-row.

Penelope: Tomorrow!

Ashley: Tomorrow?

Penelope: I am getting married tomorrow.

Ashley: You are getting married tomorrow. Penelope: (pause)

Ashley: (pause)

(Dress makes huge ripping noise from the back of the dress. Dress falls over Penelope’s hips.)

Penelope: Oh. My. God!

Ashley: Your wedding is tomorrow... (Still taking it in)

Ashley: (finally grasping the situation) Are you crazy?!?! You are crazy!!!! I don’t know if I can help you! I’m not a miracle worker!! Do you see miracle worker written on my fore-head!! No you don’t!! It’s because I can’t make miracles!!

Penelope: (bawling) Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Just please help.

Ashley: (exasperated sigh) Fine. We’ll see what I can do. Come with me. (Gently leads her out of the room and onto the platform in front of the full wall mirror.)

Penelope: (sniffling) What a disaster. I can’t believe I let this happen!

Ashley: Darling, please don’t cry, I can’t think straight. (Pe-nelope looks ashamed) hmmm… I’ll be right back I have an idea. (Walks off to other side of room and rummages through some things on the floor and comes back with scis-sors, ribbon, and lace.)

Penelope: What are you gonna do?

Ashley: You’ll see! I have a good feeling about this!

Penelope: I would like to have some input. It is my dress.

Ashley: Trust me darling!

Penelope: Well I am in no position to refuse help and I don’t have much to loose, so okay.

Ashley: That’s the spirit! Now let me get started! (She takes the ribbon and wraps it around Penelope’s waist several times to cover the top half of the rip.) Oh shoot!

Penelope: What? What’s wrong?!

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Ashley: I didn’t bring my needles over. Here, hold this ex-actly like this and don’t move! I’ll be right back! (Searches around room for needles for several minutes) Ugh! I can’t find them anywhere!

Penelope: (Slightly annoyed) I’m sure you can find needles somewhere else in this store.

Ashley: And deprive some other seamstress of their nee-dles? Uh uh. Nooo way! They might need them to help a customer!

Penelope: I’m a customer.

Ashley: But your not Susanne’s customer! Or Natalie’s! Or Damian's! So you can’t just use their needles! Uh uh. Nooo way. We’ll just have to find another way to hold your dress together! (Starts searching around)

Penelope: (very annoyed) IT’S JUST NEEDLES!

Ashley: (stared at Penelope and shakes her head) You just don’t get it do you?

Penelope: (dumbfounded) You’re—

Ashley: Ah ha! This glue gun will work just fine! (Walks back to Penelope and plugs in glue gun)

Penelope: You want to glue my wedding dress??

Ashley: Oh relax! It’ll work! (Starts fiddling with dress again)

Penelope: I’m not letting you glue my dress! (Gestures at

ribbon) What are you even doing here?! This looks stupid!

Ashley: You were right when you said you are in no position to refuse help, you know. I know what I’m doing! (Takes glues gun and glues ribbon to dress)

Penelope: Ahh! Hot!

Ashley: Don’t move then! (picks up lace and glues it to dress so it makes a train to cover bottom half of the rip) There! Done!

Penelope: (twirls in front of mirror once, twice, and again, completely horrified) What have you done?! You could have just sown it back together! I trusted you!

Ashley: (offended) I made it better! Before it was boring but now it looks fabulous; because of me!

Penelope: It’s my wedding dress, for my wedding! Not yours, (in a mocking voice) or Susanne’s! Or Natalie’s! Or Damian’s! You can’t just ruin my wedding dress like this! (Completely outraged) I paid so much money! And for this?!

Ashley: I was helping you!

Penelope: No! You were helping yourself! You’re the crazy one! You know what? I’ll fix it myself! (Starts walking out of room then whips around) I am reporting you too! (Gestures to room) This is unsafe and unsanitary! I am disgusted! (Storms out of room still wearing dress and slams door)

Ashley: (calls out after her) Wait no!! Come back! I can fix it! I’m sorry! Penelope!!(Penelope continues storming down hallway to entrance)

Chloé: Hello Miss. Did Ashley fit your dress for you?

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(Ignores Chloé at the front counter and continues to front door)

Chloé: Miss is everything alright?

Chloé: (as Penelope is about to walk out the door) Miss!

Penelope: (whips around to face Chloé, one hand on the door handle) WHAT?

Chloé: (now scared) Uhh. You are going to need to pay for your dress.

Penelope: UGH! (Turns and walks out the door and bell dings)

Ali Robert

Chorus:

Strange means unusual

Jaded; delusional

Boy you’ve got nothing on

Everything I’ve seen

I’ve started fires on bridges

Smoothed the rough around ridges

Made a few bets and won

If you know what I mean

I try to keep some rhythm in life where no one counts

I like to keep tabs but boy I hate amounts

Man, how I like loving

But how I hate to like

There’s no green blue purple red orange

just black and then there’s white

I’m ill, no more I’m empty than that jar filled with half

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You say that I’m a pessimist but hey-I’m just doing math

So shut your mouth, close your doors

Turn off the lights, get on the floor

You better watch out because I’m starting to think

Rationalistically

While I’m on a roll, I’ll continue to speculate

Why I hate to love

And how much I love to hate

It’s not because I’m angry-Lord knows I love to laugh

I believe it’s because, plain and simply I’m no draft

So explain yourself quickly-explain yourself fast

And while you’re at it make it interesting my short term memories not bound to last

Joanna Fernandez

The Stop

All the lies that you know

The ones that bring you shame,

Are the reasons you’re so low.

You act as if I’m your foe

And why your sadness came

All the lies that you know.

It’s like your putting on a show

To take hold of the fame,

This is the reason you’re so low.

All I want to say is no

Because you’re acting as if you’re tame,

Because of all the lies you know.

You walk around with a glow

Like I’m the one to blame,

These are the reasons you’re so low.

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I’m the stop to your flow

The umbrella to your rain,

All the lies that you know

Are the reason you’re so low.

Emily DeHainut and Anika Bieg

John Kent

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In Semester One of Creative Writing, students were given the task of creating a poem using only text that they found in newspapers - either headlines or phrases, advertisements or section headings.

This poem, “written” by Kaitlin Pupa, is one result of that activity...

Leandra Smith

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Antonio Marcantonio

Caroline Wojciechowicz

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John Neal

Greta Bieg

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Joe Stickney

Get up right nowGet off the floorHave you forgottenWhat you’re fighting for?

Don’t you dare back downDon’t you dare complainDon’t ever surrenderEspecially to pain

You cannot loose Not before your last breathYou will have victoryOr you will have death

You wont retreat! You wont quit!Get up off your kneesThe body can shatterBut the fighting spirit never flees

It’s a little death, don’t you know?If you see how far you’ll go To save yourself or save a friendYou’ll sell out and your soul will rendYou’ll justify, say it’s alrightFact is you gave up, you wouldn’t fight.

Sean Harrington

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Get up right nowGet off the floorHave you forgottenWhat you’re fighting for?

Don’t you dare back downDon’t you dare complainDon’t ever surrenderEspecially to pain

You cannot loose Not before your last breathYou will have victoryOr you will have death

You wont retreat! You wont quit!Get up off your kneesThe body can shatterBut the fighting spirit never flees

It’s a little death, don’t you know?If you see how far you’ll go To save yourself or save a friendYou’ll sell out and your soul will rendYou’ll justify, say it’s alrightFact is you gave up, you wouldn’t fight.

Sean Harrington

Why do I feel this way?I’m not supposed to care.

I’m not supposed to fall in love.It really isn’t fair.

Love is a sign of weakness, And I just want to be strong.

Yet when you hold me in your arms,I feel like that’s where i belong.

At night, I wait by the phone,Longing to hear your voice.

And when you call as always,We talk for hours and I rejoice.

This poem just sounds so cornyBecause I never write poetry.

It’s like my heart’s been locked forever,But you opened it with a key.

I can’t stop thinking about us,And I just wish you could see,Without me saying anything

About how we’re meant to be.

I know you truly love me, But honestly- I’m scared

That you’ll manage to break my heartFor which I’m just so unprepared.

I fancied myself a heartbreaker,But now I’m at risk too

For having my heart stomped onAnd broken into two.

I thought I was exemptFrom this kind of think.

But now I’m browsing Tiffany’sAnd looking for engagement rings.

Tatiana Diaz-Lane

Depths

Nights felt so long, I waited for morning sunkept thinkin’ ‘bout my past, how things used to beDays dragged on and on, wanted night to come

I couldn’t stand to face all the hurt that he had donewithout any warning, he quickly slipped away from me

Nights felt so long, waited for morning sunI sank to depths so deep, thought I’d never overcomeDarkness surrounded me, it was all that I could see

Days dragged on and on, wanted night to comeHe said it was final, something that couldn’t be undone.

Yet still I held on, us together was my pleaNights felt so long, waited for morning sun

The shadows that followed me, I could not outrunI was consumed, convinced nothing could set me free

Days dragged on and on, wanted night to comeCouldn’t get over this love, thought he was the oneTraveld far from home, was a stranger to the sea

Nights felt so long, waited for morning sunDays dragged on and on, wanted night to come

Hannah Dulmaine

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Josiah Boyar

Eggs

I’d really like an eggI cook them in a pan

There’s shaking in my legSean eats them with Meg

So Tatiana hits him with a vanI’d really like an eggI eat them with Craig

But instead I get hit with a canThere’s shaking in my legI need to talk to the man

I’d really like an eggBut I really dont want to beg

The man’s name was DanThere’s shaking in my leg

My leg finally broke and now I need a pirate pegNow I can’t move so I sit in the sun and tan

I’d really like an eggThere’s shaking in my leg

Brendan Lawlor

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I wish I could erase, the painful peace less past,The memories are stained, into the borders of my brain.At night they wash upon me, with an awful icy blast,I try to drive them all away, but nothing breaks the chain.The tears, they flow like a steady stream, no longer can I hold them,Repressed for many years – they surmount the walls I’ve built.Now alone I stand, free from you who will condemn,All that you have left behind is a nauseous sense of guilt.An emptiness fills my soul, a longing I’ve never knownI’ll spend my life time searching, for that solitary something,I’ve tried so many things, to ease my aching heart, like slic-ing through skin and bone.Often leaving me abandoned, with an awful disdainful sting.

In the end I will be okay,I’ve always found a way.

Cassie VanKleef

Ship Wrecked Hearts

We sit hereas I hold you tight

counting down the minutes til night5, 4, 3, 2, 1

the moon shines so brightnot another soul insight

The waves crash on the shoretheres nothing, nothing more

I could ever ask for

The light house guides the shipsships that carry two heartsthat got lost on a journeyand traveled so far apart

When we are doneand so far gone

I will come back to this spotand remember all our thoughts

everything you told me- all I ever wanted to hearand I told you my deepest darkest fears

We could be considered two ship wreckssiply fasing in the sandy depths

trying to find a homewith no path for us to be shown

We got caught up in the momentmaking promises we wouldnt keep

these days are so hardand I could barely sleep

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I’ll comeback to the very same place that started usthe place that brought us our lust

I sit here in the same spotand I hear your voice in the wind

I remember as the moonlight shined

I held you close telling you I’d never let you go

come to show. I didnt know how hard it wasto keep you close

I might not be able to speak to you againbut for now, this will be it

so I’ll close it by telling youby promising you

I’ll remember everythingand I will always

<3

Jeffrey Born

Joe Stickney

Poema para la clase de Español 3

¿Me faltas también? Do you miss me too?Faltándote es como Missing you is likeescribir con un writing with alápiz roto; broken pencil;sin sentido. pointless.

Amándote es como Loving you is likedibujar con un drawing with a lápiz de color, colored pencil,lo más brillante the brightest thingpara hacer. to do.

Peleando contigo Fighting with youes como un is like aconductor borracho, drunk driver,sin cuidado. wreckless.

Cuando estás cerca, When you are near,mi cuerpo my whole bodyentero knows it.lo sabe.

Tyler Botelho

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Antonia Boyar

Girl of a Thousand Eyes

Girl of a thousand eyesGirl of a thousand triesFrom boys eager with hope But end in feeling like a dopeSo tricky not to stareWhen you have such flairFor leaving us asking how And the audience gasping wowTo your beauty we fall preyFailed advances ruin the dayTo me you are a piece of artAny chances you’d thwartA piece of art no one shall touchThe slightest-it’d be too muchWhile others deeply gazeAnd fall into your mazeI watch from afarSit back and watch like the starsThere I can have my dreamYou wear a smile, your eyes they beamSo confident, with trustIn my life she’s a mustBut no where near the center From heaven, god has sent herGirl of a million eyesThey’ll keep and follow your eyesThey’ll make a million triesBecause you, you mesmerizeMy love for you growingBut it’s not showing Ken Stanley

Break

A fence that you put up.A chain that holds me back.

A link that will forever be known as the weakest.A game to be played.

A solution made.An instance that could have never been fortold.

A fence cemented into place.A spade hovers above my chain.

So break! I command you. Break! See what I can do.A fence that I put up.

A fence you were able to tear down.A chain that holds me back.

A hand to let that chain go slack.A link, that was once intact,

Now broken.

Jacquelyn Fellows

Joanna Fernandez

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What Brings Two People Together is Not Always What Breaks Them Apart

*David Blaine and his jock friend are driving to White Castle.Blaine: What are you going to get?Jock: Probably about 20 burgers, you?Blaine: Well, since I dont go to the gym 24/7 and it’s very difficult to “magic” away all of the fat, I’ll probably have the salad...Jock: Why are we friends again?Blaine: We have similar taste in women and enjoy arguing with each other. Jock: Oh yeah.*Car breaks down in middle of nowhere. They get out and start trying to fix it.Blaine: Dang!, this would happen. I didnt pray to Satan enough again. Jock: Hey, its fine. I’ll fix it, since I’m a real man.* The jock flexes his muscles. Blaine: Hah! I’ll fix it with magic.*They both attempt to fix the car, arguing as they try to figure out what exactly went wrong. All of a sudden they are surrounded by canibals. Jock: Where the hell did these hungry things come from?!?*The cannibals begin attacking them, each attempting to fight them off with very different methods. Blaine: Stop hitting them with the tire jack and help me chant!Jock: Like thats doing anything! I’m amazed you still have your lips! Pick up that crowbar and start bashing heads like a real man.*They keep fighting the cannibals, but obviously Blaine gets more and more wounded, and the Jock is too busy saving himself to come to Blaines rescue. Thus, Blaine dies. Jock: I’m coming David! These cannibals are no match for my brawn. David? Crap!, now how am I going to hook up with easy gothic chicks?

Greta Bieg

The Dying Songbird

A young girl, blinded by lust.Big brown eyes laced with dust.

Her voice fades away, the cries for help aren’t heard.She thinks she knows, the dying songbird.

Succumbing to the dark, she needs a light.

Not really a big one, just a little bright.Alone she stands, the fear is growing.

No pain, no feeling, at least she’s showing.

An angel stands by, waiting for her hand.It seems she’s stuck, in dangerous sinking sand.

She wants love, to be reassured.No one will listen to the dying songbird.

As years will pass, the pain will numb,A child in her arms, an act of dumb.

She stands alone, despite being surrounded.Upstairs, upset and eternally grounded.

If only she’d have listened, if only she cared.

If only she’d let the pain be shared.But now she’s alone, her cries go unheard,the faint, raspy voice of a dying songbird.

Christian McCarthy

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The Dying Songbird

A young girl, blinded by lust.Big brown eyes laced with dust.

Her voice fades away, the cries for help aren’t heard.She thinks she knows, the dying songbird.

Succumbing to the dark, she needs a light.

Not really a big one, just a little bright.Alone she stands, the fear is growing.

No pain, no feeling, at least she’s showing.

An angel stands by, waiting for her hand.It seems she’s stuck, in dangerous sinking sand.

She wants love, to be reassured.No one will listen to the dying songbird.

As years will pass, the pain will numb,A child in her arms, an act of dumb.

She stands alone, despite being surrounded.Upstairs, upset and eternally grounded.

If only she’d have listened, if only she cared.

If only she’d let the pain be shared.But now she’s alone, her cries go unheard,the faint, raspy voice of a dying songbird.

Christian McCarthy

Reality Is My Anchor; Your Nightmare Is My Ship

Open seas and endless skies, is what I see in your mind’s eye.The men I walk with shout goodbyes, as if they will be back in due time.

Their wives will watch for the safe return of our ship, lit by lanterns.Crash and splash the waves of white, upon the receding shore, day and night.

May Poseidon watch our stalwart march, toward the sea under the moon’s crescent arch.Like contrast in elegant art, he decides to have a change in heart.

Waves rise up from calm waters, to gree and meet our alma maters.Abandon ship, to your small life raft, that you have made with your own minds’ craft.

Back and forth, it seems you sway, as if you and the ship are one in the same. Out of control it has become, you and your nightmare are now one.

I watch as men break down in tears, but the sounds have fallen upon deaf ears.The sight I witness that you have created, has been done before; it has been outdated.

I walk the deck through the havoc and chaos; the men scream for their lives, Please dont take us!I stand before you with an austere stare, and you look up from your feet and...

We are back, and you are awake.

Andrew Eddy

John Neal

The places I’ve been

18 Pineneedle Path, my hone for many years, the home where I chose to go to Pope John Paul II High School

13009 Debarr Lane, Austin Texas, staying out with friends till the wee hours in the morning, and biking to school

67 Uncle Barneys Road, West Dennis Ma, beach, boating, driving the corvette, spending time with family

555 Park Shore Drive, Naples Fl, palm trees, warm weather, amazing beaches, and just running

Greensboro, NC, the apartment complexes, and going to the stream after it rained to try and catch turtles

Raleigh NC, where I learned to ride a bike, seeing white squir-rels, and playing cops and robbers

13 Capt. Freemans Road, Yarmouth MA, where I got my bike and had my first birthday

The places I’ve been and the Memories I’ve lived

Mike Burlingame

Shannon Murphy

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A Scurvy Tale

Captain Burly- A large, unintelligent man who is a pirate Sneaky Pete- He is a smart guy who is very cleverCB- Why me sea dogs be laying when they should be a rowin’?SP- It be mine supposition that a pox be the causin’ of yee list-less company.CB- Ehh, what you mean boy?SP- They be sick sir!CB- What be wrong with me crew?SP- Scorbutic Collagen, well I’d say scorbutic lethargy Collagen Deficiency sir.CB- What’s with your entire gibberish boy? Speak normally!SP- Scurvy sir, it be Scurvy.CB- How do we go about the scurvy?SP- We need to administer citrus; lemons, oranges, other fruit of that manorCB- Do we just feed it to emmm?SP- No, it will take to long.. if only we had a faster way..CB- YARG!!! Me load me blunderbuss full o lemons, and blast ye scurvy to Davey Jones Locker!!!!

Mike Burlingame

Doubt Me

Doubt meIt’s nothing I haven’t seen before,hundreds of eyes watching me,

thinking in their heads that I’ve got nothing more.

Doubt meI’ve already come this far,

it’s fine if that’s your opinion of me,but honestly I’m more like a star.

Doubt meYou say thats all I’ll ever give,and it’s all because I’m me,

but I’ve got more dreams to live.

Doubt meYou cant hold me down forever,I’m me and I will always be me,

I can only thank you for the kind endevour.

Robby Dombrowski

Anthony Marcantonio

The Tackled (Sight)

His feet give out under him,He flies like a ragdoll throught the air,His spit and beads of sweat still afloat,

Eyes closed,Mouth guard fallen out

He lands on the ground motionless

The Tackled (Sound)

The crackle of the pads,Like crushing a car, Graoning from pain,

Ribs snapping, growling from strength,Clacking,

From screaming you can tell, He’s going through hell,

People cheering,The player got tackled,

And then,The sound of jaws dropping

Rylan Richard

Andrew Eddy

What is Love?

When I couldnt write a poem about itI figured my creative juices were trying to tell me something-

EitherI knew what it was

But was afraid to delve into the subject;I know what it was

But am afraid a poem will jinx it;Or I have never known what it is

But dont feel the indecency to pretend.Perhaps the rain is at fault,

And I need the sun to awaken me.More likely it’s my chronic skepticism

Thats keeping me in the figurative “dark.”But I can’t shake the feeling

That it’s not the past Or the weather

Causing the hiatus in my heart.For if I could spend one day with him-

With you-I could write pages.

Greta Bieg

Sean Banks

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The Fall

I’m a deer enthusiast and the prettiest deer ran by me on the way to work. I stopped my car and chased it through a patch of woods. I stopped short and went flying forward with momentum. Hurdling down the cliff I woke up with a

jolt and realized...I wasn’t dreaming.

Anika Bieg

John Farrington

Came falling, heard the calling.

Came to be what no one could see.

Live to die, enternal life.

Tried to end this social strife.

Open heart, open wings.

Love and care is what I bring.

You see the girl you want to love.

I try to help, it only ends.

What isn’t true, but what isn’t fake.

This opportunity is yours to take.

Angels, angels one and all.

I came here, answered the call.

No one can see what isn’t there.

All is fixed with no despair.

I plant the seed which you must grow.

Left with wisdom for all to know.

Tyler Burke

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New Hampshire 2010

On one rather cold February vacation, Tyler Burke and I went to his grandmother’s cottage in New Hampshire to spend three days in the mountains of New London and Lebanon. On the three and a half hour car ride down to NH, Tyler’s sister Maggie and her best friend Sabrina took pictures obnoxiously with their flash cameras, while Tyler and I listened to Avenged Sevenfold and Hollywood Undead trying our best to ignore the spontaneous and continuous flashes. We stopped at a rest area to stretch and use the rest-rooms. Little did Maggie and Sabrina know, Tyler and I were plot-ting our masterful payback for the constant flash photography in the seats next to us. Maggie just bought a bag of Fritos to munch on for the rest of the car ride, and Tyler and I bought monsters and 2nd degree burn Doritos. On our way back to the car, Tyler’s mom was still in the bathroom giving Tyler and I the perfect opportunity for vengeance. Tyler snuck up from behind his sister and stole her unopened bag of chippy deliciousness and ran away from her. As she was chasing after him I ran next to them with my hands up awaiting the pass from Tyler. He passed me the Fritos and I ran the opposite direc-tion avoiding his sister. This went on for a good five minutes until we made a fare trade, no more pictures in exchange for the Fritos. After this was finished Tyler’s mother unlocked the car and we all scrambled in trying to avoid the middle seat in the back of the car because it gives one horrendous butt cramps. Tyler got stuck with the pain in the butt seat… literally! Once we got to Tyler’s grandmother’s house we ran inside to claim our beds. Tyler and I got the good beds leaving Maggie and Sabrina with the squeaky uncomfortable beds! There was still a couple hours of daylight left so of course, we had to find something to do that was entertaining enough for the rest of the day. Maggie and Sabrina were being bums so they decided to be boring and watch T.V. This was definitely not fun for Tyler and I. We went outside to roam the forest in his grandmother’s backyard. We came upon a stream in which a large supply of crawfish lived. Tyler then decided that we should try to catch them so I went along with the

idea and we proceeded to be pinched and clawed without catching one crawfish. We then gave up and went out to dinner where we were quite entertained by the fat people eating pasta at the table next to us. The day ended and night came upon us so we went back to the house and watched Death Race. The next morning Tyler and I spent the whole day exploring the forest pushing boulders and tree stumps down a massive hill into the stream. This was enough fun to last us the whole day until yet again, we went out to eat. It was prom time in New London, NH that night so we were bombarded with girls and boys in dresses and tuxes every color of the rainbow. After waiting a good hour for our meal, my steak finally came. I got my fork and knife ready and I was just about to go to town on this nice juicy steak until I realized there was no steak sauce. I then asked the waitress if she could get me some A1 steak sauce. I was flabbergasted when she replied, “What’s that?” I was about to get up and leave when I said it’s a spicy steak sauce!!! She could tell that I was not happy with the lack of steak sauce knowledge so she went to the head chef and told him that I wanted steak sauce. After ten minutes had passed the chef walked out with a steamy cup of homemade steak sauce that was better than any other steak sauce I had ever tasted. I devoured my t-bone Angus steak in minutes and thus, it was time for desert. Everyone knows that no matter how full you feel, as soon as dinner is over, and you hear the word desert, you are instantaneously not hungry anymore. We all then ordered everything we could think of. I had two pieces of the best cheesecake my mouth had ever tasted. Full and exhaust-ed, we all went back to the house and yet again, Tyler and I went to the stream to try and catch the crawfish. This time, however, we came prepared. We were going to show those crawfish who was boss. We armed ourselves with pasta strainers, flashlights, and tongs. This ended in a demolition derby of crawfish catching and we were then satisfied. We took our bucket of creatures back to the house for bragging rights. We got our ten minutes of glory until the basking was put to a stop when we were told to put them back where we found them. Devastated and demoralized, we set our trophies back where we had caught them swearing to them that we would be back one day to catch them again.

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At the end of our last day in the mountains of New Hampshire, we were packing the car when Maggie took a picture. Tyler and I chased after her and took her snacks for the ride home to ensure that there would be no picture taking on the long trip back home. Stuck with the butt cramp seat, I was dared by Tyler to eat five 2nd degree burn chips without drinking anything. I accepted the challenge and ate the chips. My mouth felt like someone poured gasoline in my mouth and set it on fire. The pain lasted all three hours of the ride back, but I took it like a champ and won the dare. Sad and depressed that our journeys were over, I got out of the car and proceeded to my own house. Tyler yelled after me and said, ‘Just wait until this April vacation!”…. To be continued.

Sean Banks

James Tierney

Idealist

Fairies, ponies, dragons and wizardsEating hot dogs and DQ blizzardsA world of magic at my fingertipsSparkly pink lipstick on my lips

I used to run around my neighborhoodMisinterpreting the world as pure and good

Casting spells with my magic wandOver this the neighborhood gang would bond

In my world of PokémonThings were perfect from duck to dawn

Scent

Once musky, mildew, a scent of potent moldNow fresh fruit roams my nose

You’re ever changing just like the weatherYou’ve endured the rain, the sleet, the snow

You take me everywhere I need to goEvery day is something new

But regardless of your stench, I’ll always love you.

Emily Maguire

Antonia Boyar

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I drove slowly down the street. I’d passed it a million times but I never had stopped and taken the time to distin-guish its features. I passed by the post office and the shoe store on the corner. Now it was foreign and unfamiliar, and I wished it would stretch on for another hundred miles or so. I looked over at my younger brother’s face. He sat there trying to pick out faces, buildings, or anything familiar out the window, his blank expression unrevealing, but I knew he was nervous too. It’s not like I was new at this. I’d switched schools four or five times already, so I’d had practice. I knew it wouldn’t be harder this time around, but changing schools is never easy. I think substituting worlds for schools would be more appropriate. I was looking for a break and a fresh start, something I was told I had gotten before, but in the last two years, I had never seen it. At school, I’d spent them looking for friends and a place to feel at home, but I realized that nobody really had friends, and nobody really felt at home. The school I’d gone to was supposed to be the answer; it was supposed to make me feel happy about going to school again. I wasn’t happy, but I’d survived, and there were many people I knew who hadn’t. Friends had disappeared, often broken and emotionally shattered, and I’d stopped wondering where they went. There was always an excuse, but they all left for the same reason; to get away. They had tested me; pushed me to the ground to see how many times I would get back up again; to see who would lead, and who would follow. I was in with the aca-demic elite, those who had committed to uphold the school’s four pillars of respect, honesty, scholarship, and compassion. I strongly supported these core virtues, yet I was sickened

by how quickly they were abused and twisted, tossed aside by my classmates, and overlooked by those who were sup-posed to set the examples for the school. I will never forget one of the saddest experiences I had facing this. The tennis team was coming home from a match one day late in the spring and spirits were high over our undefeated winning streak. I was sitting near my friend, who was laughing along with everyone else. Easter had just come and gone, as well as Passover for my friend. I remember the horror on my face when the joking suddenly turned anti-Semitic. One joke became many, and a team-mate proposed that they should have a contest to make the harshest one. They were no longer jokes. I suddenly saw my teammates turning into monsters before my eyes. I knew it was wrong, but I felt trapped and unsure about how to stop them. All I could do was watch my friend slump down in his seat and cover the tear that rolled across his cheek. I sat there, in the grimy yellow bus seat, angry at them and at myself. We were all friends, how could they do this? How could I do nothing? I was alone there and in my thoughts, and distraught at the realization of how helpless I felt. The experience had changed me, molded me, re-fined me, and given me a sharp edge that would strike at whoever appeared as threatening. I am not always proud of that edge, but I have seen what it is like to be defense-less. I never thought I’d think of a school as a warzone, but everyday there were battles; there were only allies and enemies, with no room for friends. At last, I was coming to a new school. I knew no one should see this where I was go-ing, and very few would believe me anyways. I hid the truth behind the stereotypes of what everyone thought the private school would be like. I had always known that high school is supposed to change you. So far, it had only left me with scars and bitterness.

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I made the final turn onto the street. Pope John Paul II High School stood tall and welcoming at the end of the road. As soon as I got to the stop sign, I realized that I had taken the wrong turn. A steady line of cars on either side blocked my view, and it was impossible to turn right. Now my brother and I looked at each other nervously, and I think the phrase, “We’re not in Kansas anymore,” really applied to both of us, even though we were coming from two different schools. I also realized something else; there was no turning back now. In the distance, the statue of John Paul II, a symbol of gentle kindness, was beckoning us forward. However, my uncertainty was holding me back. So caught up in what to do, I didn’t even notice that I’d walked into the school and gone on to my own locker without my brother. It was his first day of high school, and I felt the need to look after him. What if he was lost? In a swarm of students and teachers, I’d lost my little brother. How could this happen? He was completely on his own now, and so was I. I turned my focus back to the wheel on my locker and stared into the gaping pit at the bottom. When I started back down the hallway, I was unbelievably happy to see some familiar faces, and a couple of smiles I had never gotten to see from behind their football helmets. We all walked down the stairs and my eyes began to see and explore the school in a new light. From every corner people poured into the audi-torium and took their seats like clockwork, as if it had been rehearsed weeks before. I sat through announcements and began to wonder how the day would play out. I’d been here before two years ago, sitting in announcements on the first day of school just like this. However, the warm and enthusi-astic atmosphere in the room quickly put the thought out of my mind. It was easy to tell that the laughs and smiles were genuine. Maybe this time would be different, I thought. Maybe this is what it’s supposed to feel like.

When I walked into my house later that night after football, dirty, bruised, and mentally exhausted, I was smil-ing. It had been my first real day at high school, and I had a good feeling. I had opened myself to the possibility that I could have real friends. The four pillars may have been a lie, but the virtues they had mistreated were alive and an es-sential part of the community I had so newly become a part of. I was no longer swimming with the sharks; I was hanging out with friends and making new ones every day. Everyday I wonder what it would be like if I had stayed at my previous school. Would I even recognize my-self? Would I see a monster? I was given a second chance to have a fresh start, and I plan to use it. I’ve learned that accepting things when you believe you can’t change any-thing is wrong, and worse; it will destroy you. There will always be an opportunity to make a change; you just have to be open to finding it. High school is supposed to change you. Only time can tell, but I think I can already safely say, I’m going to feel at home.

Patrick Vaughn

Sean Banks is a member of the class of 2012. He loves being wild and having a good time, no matter what. He loves football and spending time with his friends as much as possible.

Anika Bieg is a freshman at PJP. In her free time she spends time with her recently graduated sister and makes cookies.

Greta Bieg is an avid book junkie who is unconcerned with the fact that this passion will likely not pay her future, rather exorbitant, college bills. She will be attending Union College in the fall, and hopes desperately to have a class as stimulating as Creative Writing (both semesters!) has been.

Jeffrey Born is a member of the class of 2012. He is not really an emotional guy unless he is writing poetry. He loves football with a pas-sion and loves to have fun

Tyler Burke loves poetry. Burke does work and always will. What a silly goose.

Eric Cabral is a member of the class of 2013. Most of Eric’s free time consists of either practicing or playing soccer, but he enjoys writing and reading when he has some extra time on his hands. Eric takes all of his school work very seriously, but he loves to laugh and have a good time while doing it.

Tatiana Diaz-Lane is a graduate of Pope John Paul II High School. Her hobbies include singing, shopping, writing, acting, and styling people who were cursed with a bad fashion sense. She looks forward to moving to New York City in the near future so she may turn one of her hobbies into an established career.

Robby Dombrowski is a member of the class of 2012. Robby loves to play football and baseball as well as hanging out with friends. Robby says that his dogs Annie and Jake are awesome. Robby also enjoys “shredding some narr” while snowboarding in the winter.

Contributor Biographies

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Emily Fenuccio, a recent graduate of the class of 2011, loves to read and write, as well as play soccer and participate in the many theatrical productions that grace the PJP2hs stage. Emily looks forward to being a UVM catamount for the next four years!

Joanna Fernandez is a member of the class of 2013. She doesn’t like words, but revels in them. She appreciates craziness, being insane herself sometimes, and loves art above anything else in the world.

Brendan Lawlor is the coolest kid in the school :D. He likes to play basketball. He likes to go to the beach, and stuff like that :p. And he likes eggs.

Christian McCarthy is a seventeen-going-on-eighteen year old male who likes long walks on the beach. He’s so excited for the completion of yet another wonderful literary magazine with the English goddess Ms. Frega. He enjoys acting, singing, song writing, writing, reading, dancing on the street randomly, petting animals at zoos, and jumping on furniture.

Ali Robert is 17 years old and enjoys reading, writing, cheering, and spending time with her friends. She has never actually been to David’s Bridal but hopes that if she does go this doesn’t happen to her!

Victoria Sirois is currently a Sophomore this year at PJP2. She loves to write poetry and spend time journaling. She gets most of her inspi-rations from nature and people around her, and she is taking a sum-mer writing class to help practice when not in school. Victoria also likes to spend time practicing guitar and playing with her two slobbery puppies, Abu and Jazmine.

Ken Stanley, a rising senior, has written poetry for three years. He likes to write about topics he is passionate about, such as football and relationships. He is also a Jets fan.

Andrew Eddy is in the class of 2012. His junior year has been one of the best years of his life.