Valentine’s Day Contest 2019 – 1st Place Winner Arts 

Valentine’s Day Contest 2019 – 1st Place Winner

Little Steps To The Beat     “Wow, he sucks.” “What are you talking about?” “That guy was clearly open to score a three point, but nope. Kendrick thought he could score when four people are blocking him.” “Like you would’ve done that?” “Uhm, I always pass the ball.” “Oh, really? How many passes you made last game?” “Come on, they didn’t want to pass me the ball, so why should I?” “All you needed was time to be recognized. You didn’t listen and look what happened,” she scolded me…

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Valentine’s Day Contest 2019 – 3rd Place Winner Arts 

Valentine’s Day Contest 2019 – 3rd Place Winner

Life is too short to dwell over losers s s He broke your heart? Sew it back together. He ghosted you? Act like he was never there. She rejected you? You dodged a bullet. She’s sending you mixed signals? Change the channel. They never text you first? They aren’t worth your time. “Easier said than done.” Not really, though. Once you face the truth, Instead of believing in the lies, You can stop wasting your time, And move onto someone worth it. s s Poem by: Sophie Dufresne

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Soapbox Arts 


My opinion is that people have grown lazy And no longer consider what should be considered in their poetry or life It must be my opinion I don’t think I could think so just about myself only One day I’ll do it perfectly And everyone will love me   Poem by: Samuel Helguero

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Hold Me Arts 

Hold Me

Oh, hold me in your arms I don’t wanna let you go But I need to   It’s still early in the morning Yet the sun has risen I’m holding onto the serene Expression on your face In this perfect setting Where all meant nothing I’m holding onto the memories I can’t erase   Tell me why’d you have to go? Tell me why I have been moving on? Where did everything go wrong? Why are you fading?   I’ve been thinking about you lately The feelings keep coming back…

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What’s left of my father Arts 

What’s left of my father

When I look at my father all I see is body. I see a pile of bones, some flesh and a dim flame that’s been burning for far too long. Where once was a mountain now rests an abandoned field covered in snow, but he sets himself on fire in order to keep himself warm. My father is always breathless, like an actor after a performance, he crawls back to his body and sews himself back into his old skin, hoping that it still fits. My father is no Van…

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Notes From A Student Forum Campus 

Notes From A Student Forum

Professor Ara K. had come into the newsroom to pitch his story. I put on my thinking cap and adjusted my collar. It was a classic forum, 8 students, 3 teachers, given the chance to play a part in a parliamentary simulation. “Political activity in the belly of our educational system,” I thought. “This should be good.” I took the case and K. left. The next time I saw Ara K. he had brought company. Sitting across from me was Melissa Paradis, a political scientist just like K., humble, thoughtful….

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