Winter 2018

Winter 20182019-09-18T16:15:31-04:00

Project Description

Poetry & Prose

Step One

Step One

By Alexandra Tranc

I don’t think homesickness is just missing home.

Homesickness is feeling imprisoned in the most glorified places: places that spoonfeed you unnecessary amounts of hope…for success, growth, prosperity. But, hope can easily mean you’re emptyhanded.

And then you feel guilty for feeling all these feelings and you start believing you’re unthankful and unambitious, but you’re counting your wages and you feel like you’ve got nothing but loneliness and failure and wasted opportunities and you don’t know where to go to no longer feel like that.

But then,

something happens, and you realize homesickness is


a feeling:

Like anger and discomfort and excitement and jealousy and exhaustion and stress…

Feelings that are temporal and spin a few lies now and again.

Realizing that is the first step.

I don’t know what’s the next…



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

Scorching Verse

Scorching Verse

by Stuart Ian Little

I sift through ashes for shreds of paper,

Slips of ink and bone and flesh

Tied, yoked and chained to buried things

Dead poets.

Gaze up at the great pyre of Time,

Time, raging up his flaming pillar,

Time, devouring all.

But for a few.

A few survive. The greats,

Saint-canonized in literature’s scrolls

Great volumes scorched but

Burnt? No. Not burnt.

These I find, here Yeats, there Hopkins, 

Hiding in that pile, Dickinson,

A seeming endless stream

Of paper slips, windblown, cascading

Round the barren grey.

Diamond Promises

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.


Wuv (Love∞)

by Varun Batta

The constant exchange of messages,
An endless list of “To:” and “From:”
Only one name can fill that place
And allow a rush of emotions to come

You always lead to complete excitement
I get eager to see what next you will say
Opening it up, a touch of angst fills my heart
Reading it though, you push all that away

Yearning for a real connection,
I searched and somehow found you
Ever since, my heart and mind drive me
To show you that dreams do come true

You bring a fire to my soul,
I gain power by just the thought
Of you and I being truly together
That is what I truly sought

Passion enflamed, urges fulfilled
By someone special, someone like you
Worries calmed, angst subsided
At the moment we met and it was true

You lead to feelings remarkably strong
I think I cannot express with just love
My true desire is love of an infinite strength
I know! What I feel is what I call wuv



by Amy Zi Xuan Liou

It’s like time neither stood still

Nor sped forward with urge,

When your hearts are wholesome and warm

But too fragile for goodbye words,

Bold and injured.

These bodies tangle as they should,

We do what two young humans do

When they lean in closer to the soul

That stirs beneath me, beneath you,

Make me your pursuit.

There was no room for excessive fear,

In the moment, we were willing to give,

Receiving hugs, kisses and heaven,

But ask me to commit

And I would run from all of this.

Because my father was noble and brave,

And my mother has never felt the agony

Of losing your first true love,

When you were swept off your feet,

With the most heartless ending.

So we don’t look for new beginnings,

We seek no means to an end,

Just the sway of my hips and the comfort of his chest,

When he’s a special kind of friend

On the weekends.

A friend.

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