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Quetzal | University of Waterloo’s Online Arts Magazine2019-11-17T16:01:16-05:00

Photography

Poetry & Prose

“Don’t Go” by by Naomi Turner

Don’t Go

by Naomi Turner

They think it’s funny.

You think it’s grand.

The idea of grasping that gun 

in the palm of your hand.

The pull of the trigger.

The sound of the fire.

To see the eyes of someone, 

who no longer feels desire.

The change in your tone,

When I read your letter.

You look alone,

Man in that camo sweater.

You step off the plane

After what feels like eternity,

And I’m so happy I start to cry,

But you will forever hold,

That look in your eye.

Don’t go.

“One” by Varun Batta

One

by Varun Batta

Just a moment, a sight, a thought
Of just one person, one feeling, one dream
Always leads to a physical reaction
In core muscles throughout my being

Da‐dum, Da‐dum, Da‐dum, Da‐dum
Heart is beating normally, until I view
Just a few letters change beating to racing
When the origin of those letters is my darling, you

Just a wait, a stay, a longing
For just one event, one time, one instant
Always seems to take forever
Time just passing, seeming distant

Tick‐tock, Tick‐tock, Tick‐tock, Tick‐tock
The clock is bidding the moments adieu
Moments last forever, they never fade
When they are the moments I share with my dearest, you

Just a check, a swipe, a peek
To see one source, one view, one block
Always I am sending and receiving
Just a few words, to reply and talk

Da‐ding, Da‐ding, Da‐ding, Da‐ding
Notifications continue to come anew
Only one of which curves my lips
When from the love of my life, you

“A Stranger’s Summer” by Jacob Kechichian

A Stranger’s Summer

by Jacob Kechichian


It was the first summer night of the season. I stood against the railing on my balcony and gazed upon the small city. Faint sounds of laughter and music flowed through the air and the soft warm breeze kissed my face. It was a cloudless sky that evening and a full moon, which shone bright, stared back at me as I to it. The stars, hidden behind the city’s immense lights, pushed through and radiated unto the sky. Nights like these were ones I lived for, where I could sit and silently observe the city; a self-deified stranger to a godless city.

“A Poem for Peace” by Jean-Pierre de Levay

A Poem for Peace

by Jean-Pierre de Levay

A playful boy
In the cover of the Iron Dome
His youth unleashed unto legos and cars
And, yet, his sister with no such toys
Here, where Arabic glides in the air
In tears subdued
Her father no longer there
Her mother’s heart shattered beyond repair
Her neighbors fleeing the wickedness of this hell
The screeching sirens chaotically continue
Thrusting the devil’s command of hissing missiles
The yells of innocence hastily echo on shell-shocked cheeks
That peace that once was, has stormed away
Her diluted pupils a fearless pain avow
Sculpted in the somber edges of her eyelashes
Her brother from across the ungodly divide
The motion of his toy cars stops
Up, he stands, grasping ferociously his heart
Ready to hold in place the dying cosmos
To his loving mother, he charges
Asking but what had happened?
As if to hear a tragedy of stellar gravity
But the monotonous, ghostly words
“Nothing new, son”
The only fading reply

“Diamond Promises” by Khadeeja Sajid

Diamond Promises

by Khadeeja Sajid

My Dear,

“I promise I’ll change,”

is a diamond promise.

And I wonder if you know

that diamonds can be found

in abundance.

There are many myths about diamonds:

that they are the most valuable gem;

that they are precious, rare;

that they are the most refractive.

No. The only true thing

about this gem is that

it is the hardest on our earth.

So, when you make 

your diamond promises,

remember that I’ve seen this promise before.

The world has seen it in abundance,

the promise is not sacred,

nor special, nor healing.

No. Unfortunately,

the only thing this promise is,

is hard.

“Golden Stars” by Rachel Hannusch

Golden Stars

by Rachel Hannusch

The golden stars dance

across the sky,

and in my arms

the baby cries.

Hold on hope,

do not die,

and in the dark,

the ravens fly.

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Visual Arts

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Short Stories

“New Beginnings” by Edward Liu

 New Beginnings by Edward Liu It was a troubling time. Seventeen years into life; too many left until the end of my days. “Too many indeed.” What was that voice? “It’s me! You’ve known me for awhile now.” What were those thoughts I didn’t want circulating through my head? “I have feelings too, you know?” What were those disheartening memories? “She only broke up with you a few months ago! You couldn’t have already forgotten.” I hadn’t forgotten, but I had tried to. “I miss her.” I missed her too, but I could not afford to miss her. I could not afford to think about her any longer. “That’s impossible. We will practically see her everyday. With him.” It didn’t matter. I had to work my way around it. I willed myself to, “Yeah, okay. Good luck with that.” I had to somehow make it through my final year of high school with two unwanted parties tagging along with me, holding me back. It was a difficult task, and I attempted to accomplish it through willpower alone for a small while. “You tried your best for two months. It just wasn’t meant to be.” Two months was approximately [...]

“My Hands” by Emerald Naylor

My Hands by Emerald Naylor He could hear the murmur of voices on the other side of the wall. There must have been hundreds- no thousands- of people waiting for him. He rolled his shoulders back and tried not to think of the crowd. Priscilla was still standing in the doorway behind him. She glared at his back. “I can’t believe you- doing this again.” Her voice was steady, but he could tell she was trying hard not to shout. He turned around to face her. “I’ve told you, I have to do this. This is who I am; I’m their hero.” He started to turn back towards the arena when something in the shadows caught his eye. “For gods sake! Stop being the damn hero!” She was yelling now. She sounded exasperated. He took a step towards the shadows. “You don’t have to be their hero. Come home with me; be mine. Be my hero,” She whimpered. “Priscilla, shush.” He narrowed his eyes. There was something there, right in front of him. “Lionel,” He stepped closer. He could make out the outline of the figure through the darkness. There was something in its hands. The shadowy figure [...]

“A Spoken Word” by Muhammad Zaid Bin Amer

A Spoken Word by Muhammad Zaid Bin Amer Hey My name is Muhammad Zaid Bin Amer. You may have heard of me And to be quite frank I’m not always 100% sure I’m spelling Muhammad right. Is it M u, M o, I don't know- it's confusing. I was born on June 21st 1999, in some ghetto army base within Peshawar, a small city in Pakistan. This is widely been regarded as a terrible idea Now see the reason I wasn’t born in a regular hospital is that we were on the way to the airport, leaving Pakistan as refugees because of some bad business my parents have never went into because they just love keeping secrets This just goes to show, people wanted me dead even before I was born I’m often terrible at staying quiet, being loud and shattering the solid silence, I mean what can I say I was born sleeping and have been messed up ever since I like coca-cola Alot I go to The University of Waterloo I’m in first year and I still don't have my drivers license And for as long as I can remember I’ve loved cheap food... and bad jokes [...]

“Confessions of A Creative Woman” by Tasnia Nasar

Confessions of a Creative Woman by Tasnia Nasar It’s the top skill discussed in an interview, the ability most highlighted in my resume, and the characteristic I’m most known for by my friends and family. I laugh at my own Instagram captions and marvel at how witty my tweets are. I take an extra 20 minutes to make my meals look presentable only to eat it a few seconds later. The stationary section at Chapters is like my Disneyland and overpriced lattes are my chardonnay. If I just told your life story, you my friend, are creative. We’re often misunderstood. We’re often ‘self-employed’. But we’re also a lot of other things. So it’s time I sat down and confessed why we are– the way we are. Our life is an organized chaos I have a laptop case in my purse without a laptop in it. I have a wallet too, but my debit and credit cards are usually in the side pockets. When I’m hungry, I indulge in the smell of gum wrappers and dig through to find a few tangerines…at least that’s what they used to be.  Give me a ring while my phone is in [...]

“Summer in the Suburbs” by Erin Taylor

Summer in the Suburbs by Erin Taylor I‘m on my leadoff from second base when a girl shows up and leans against our dugout fence. I pause, trying to make out who it is, before I hear the scuffle of the backcatcher's shin guards as she jumps up and my coach screams, "Morris! Down!" So I dive face-first under the sweeping glove and slap the tips of my fingers on the bag. Our cleanup batter brings me home. Coach Jen hesitates, tells me to look, then run. She knows I have a good slide. I scoop up the bat and hustle back to the dugout, grinning and dusting off my batting gloves on my shorts. Annette is standing on the other side of the fence, behind my teammates, the fingers of her left hand hooked in the chain links. I shriek and jump on the bench. There’s a commotion by third and my teammates all rise. I reach her through the fence. I’m shouting, "You're back!" She’s laughing and nodding, and then she looks over my shoulder. "They need you out there, Sarah." I look back. Everyone has taken the field. "Can you stay?" "I'll be here." [...]

“Understand Me” by Eunice Adubea Owusu Amoah

Was he dead? Or was he alive? His skin felt warm and flushed all over. Was he dying? Or was he still in love? Something warm and sticky was in his hand. Blood.   His? Hers? A face appeared before him. Someone screaming his name. Or maybe just screaming. Screeches of fear. Or pain. Or surprise. Was it her? Was she beside him? Screaming for him to stay alive? Or screaming at him to just die?   He didn’t deserve to die, he thought. She was the one who broke him. He thought of the day they met.   “Boo,” she whispered. He quickly spun around to face her. His chin brushed against her short, wet, spiky hair. He looked down at her and she looked up at him. Two complete strangers who had fatefully met in a cemetery on a rainy night.   There was an ambulance. His thoughts begged for the siren to be shut. He was trying to remember.   What had she been wearing? Had she smiled? No. She’d laughed though. Yes she’d-   The siren. The stupid siren. Too fucking loud.   She’d laughed. He’d stared at her in that beautiful moment, unable to pull [...]

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