by Z.L. Zhou

Photo by Joe Black, Freshman

O Lord, let my soul rise up to meet you,
sicut erat in principio,
as the day rises to meet the sun,
let us shout upon the rites of men;
Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui sancto;
et nunc,
as the night sets to greet my soul,
et semper,
as I grow weak;
grant me understanding,
that I may live;
et in saecula saeculorum :

May he bring you home rejoicing :
As your senses fail :

Amen.

]]> http://www.uhsperspective.org/2012/05/07/commonprayer/feed/ 0 http://www.uhsperspective.org/2012/05/07/12-pm-free-verse/ http://www.uhsperspective.org/2012/05/07/12-pm-free-verse/#comments Tue, 08 May 2012 05:20:41 +0000 Editors http://www.uhsperspective.org/?p=4711 12 PM: Free verse

by Z.L. Zhou

Photo by Emma Barrett, Freshman

Plaintive
that is how i would describe the violin.
He is a sad character, hounded
by ice age after snow age
old man after new man
often borrowed
sometimes blue.

To hear a violin’s chords
is to become a king for a glance
or a leper.
Viola! You solemner than most
you know all of heartbreak
the pain of leaving.
But your little sister knows too.

A berceuse
a humoresque
Träumerei;
they are all
longing.
A rising in a bed far from home
light so bright you think it’s frost
what you remember as you see the harvest moon.

health

by Allyson Yoder

Photo by Diana Pham, Junior

if you want to lose the love

handles you have to get better frontal lobes.

you have to get better lobes in the front

al. your problem?(you’re-easily-distracted-you-have-trouble-paying-attentio

n-you’re-chronically-love-handled)well,

it’s all in your head.

Think of your pre-frontal cortex as the CEO

of your brain(a memo for you, brain stem. how better to turn

a profit, cerebrum?)and let it do the work,

take control of your destiny.

How many blueberries must I eat, Doctor?

At least

an acre a day. That should be enough

to turn your brain a nice shade of blue.

But first you must define all the words in Lesson 8.

The students

are restless in their seats, waiting for class to end

so they can go to another small room

and wait for class to end.

So busy diagramming “amygdala”

they don’t even notice when the teacher leaps

onto his desk, flings the textbook across the classroom, and sings

with operatic gusto:

if you waaaaaaaaant to change your bodies,

you fiiiiiiiiirst must change your minds!

By Sydney Huetter

Photo by Laurence Wolf, Freshman

A great love fills up my heart,

Bubbling to the surface

Like a radiant melody.

Some want to teach the world to sing

In perfect harmony,

But I want to teach the world to love,

In selfless ecstasy.

The rapture of cacophony,

Rising from the hills,

Brings sweet music to my ears

Whispering blithe pleasures of

The dancing feet around the world,

Who sing the songs of freedom blessed.

Joining hands of brothers and sisters,

All throughout the globe,

Smiling faces upturned toward sun,

Rejoicing in the day renewed.

So as the people dance and sing

In perfect harmony,

I want to teach the world to love

In selfless ecstasy.

Ode to Time

I did surf the ever expanding dunes that my ancestors painted before me

Waves of sinusoidal motions have cascaded across my window pane

Wiping away the dust particle had me discovered and elucidated

The backbones of Earth, backbones before me and became

An interpretive dance and a thing of the past behind me

I was not sunk yet however I was sinking into

Imaginary pieces of folklore that I did

Pick and choose for the time being

See how the time went?

 It started to fly.
tick, tock

The clock is set

See how the hands go?

They are not waving goodbye.

They will only hold you for so long.

Take notice and they will not let you down.

Forward you will go forever down the infinite line.

Interpret what will be left behind, imagine what will come.

Still surfing dunes, the waters collide and will breathe new life.

The sands will not run out if you take the time, turning upside-down.

Continuing down the line, repeating the motions for when you next dawn.

by Shelia Dong

No longer does it seem that time’s a gift

Compressing near the end and then the snap –

A climb and then a fall into the rift.

In childhood, days are lazy golden drift

As green as trees, as sweet and slow as sap

Despite bright ribbons, time a cast-off gift.

On beaches, hourglass sands through fingers sift,

The waves a metronome that coldly lap

At climbing feet that soon will meet the rift.

Then Monday sinks its teeth, you’re in the lift

Wishing you could only take a nap

No longer sure if time’s a valid gift.

Your lover’s acting distant since you tiffed

The argument inane – a leaky tap

Your voices climbed, then fell into a rift.

Gone are languid days when you what-iffed

Your lonely lunch done too, now toss the wrap

No longer does it seem that time’s a gift –

A climb and then a fall into the rift.

Photo by Joe Black, Freshman

A poem by Katie Collins:

bruised

the child studied the apple

quivering from its corner of the counter

spider webs entangling the rotting fruit

as if no one quite recognized

the purpleblackgray

Scars

Swallowing it up

One

By one

shadows crawled over the tile

the child wondered then

how long the light bulb

had been shattered

Reflections of Mada*

By Karen Wang

She is a soap bubble:

Ebullient

with properties of things that taste like summer

such as secret champagne and meadows,

hammocks in dappled sunshine.

it makes sense that she grows bolder as the days grow longer

warmer air rises after all.

Iridescent

possessing a rainbow hue of emotions

that shine and delight

outsiders from a distance

with her vibrant expression

that runs as deep as her skin.

Transparent

honest, and on display for all to see

for themselves, in themselves.

but empty and hollow,

a thin film pocketing air.

air that is her life

essential to respiration and buoyancy

and keeping her insides from caving in.

“cave squared” is too much -

just breathe.

Evanescent

the worry that pales her frail body

as it fuels her desperate fall colors

is that one day they will stop looking

and she will cease to amaze,

to matter, to exist.

Spent

she thinks the pressure from the outside is too much

when really it’s the loss of internal energy.

what she fears makes her shrink

into this compact little sphere

it’s endearing like kittens in teacups

on calendars that last a year.

she envies their longevity when it’s winter -

just breathe

but she just doesn’t realize that

all this time

her inhalation of air

meant her exhalation of life.

she gave too much.

She is a soap bubble:

let’s watch her pop, it’s what she would’ve wanted.

let’s watch her destruction in Our image and then -

just breathe.

* Mada is pride in Hindu theology and a vice that must be overcome in order to escape the eternal suffering.

By Allyson Yoder

Photo by Haley Duncan, Sophomore

Because I have been wounded by hard nails that

glimmer like jewels on fingertips and toes,

I will not.

Because the sirens who smile perpetually

through loud pages of magazines

couldn’t take those faces with them

into motherhood and sagging hips,

because they can’t kiss fully

through painted lips,

and their arms do not soften on embrace,

and their slender feet are afraid of roots,

I will not.

And when someday their babies lean in for the hungry suckle

their breasts will leak not milk but silicon,

and they will quiet their uneasiness not

with the gentle drift of lullabies,

but with currents of dizzy sound from the television,

and their children will wail high and empty—

Then

I will offer brown bread and red

apples from my hands.

And I will know sorrow

and compassion

and prayer

but I will not,

no,

I will never

know

envy.

]]> http://www.uhsperspective.org/2012/05/07/in-defiance-of-cosmo/feed/ 0 http://www.uhsperspective.org/2012/05/07/just-a-moment/ http://www.uhsperspective.org/2012/05/07/just-a-moment/#comments Tue, 08 May 2012 01:09:28 +0000 Sydney Huetter http://www.uhsperspective.org/?p=4701 Just a Moment

By Sydney Huetter

Photo by Amanda Robinson, Junior

People flocking back and forth

Moving in herds

These insecure creatures that we are

Unwilling to stand alone

For just a moment

So misunderstood in every way

What do people see when they look at us?

A mob, a group, a crowd

Such a lonely crowd

No one can see what lies beneath

The masks of every face

In the pack

For just a moment

The seconds tick by

And those who reside

Behind the empty lie

Care not for the moments

Flying past

For no one else cares either

So don’t be different,

Don’t be brave,

Don’t do the unexpected

For just a moment

What would it be

If people could see

The difference of us all?

Don’t stand back,

Hiding behind the pack

Don’t be afraid to rise to the call

These introverted people

So closed, sealed up

Inside a hollow shell

We don’t see the time

As it flies by

And runs away out of our grasp

The seconds we spend wasted on

Doing nothing at all

This clock keeps turning

Ocean waves churning

A hummingbird’s kiss goodnight

Full moon at dawn

Stars so bright

In the clear summer sky

When the winter’s done and gone

These are the things we miss

By wasting, wasting, wasting time

The petty things we hold sublime

Really have no purpose here

So for a moment, stop to think

About the time that’s spent on Earth

Our lives are but a second here

A drop in the ocean of time

What do we really care

If we spend our days away

Secured away from the rest of the world

Where no one may see our face

We must learn to stand out

And in this crowd we find our place

For there’s not much time

To waste

And every second’s precious

So imagine

For just a moment