Celebrating 40 years of Kellenberg Memorial.
Learn more about the milestone here.
Celebrating 40 years of Kellenberg Memorial.
Learn more about the milestone here.
Poem by Aren Saraydarian ’26 O Ararat, thy pure and snow capped peak Shines brighter than the sun that beams above, Where Noah sent the olive bearing dove, Where rays of brilliant light from heaven streak. O Ararat, thy fatherly embrace Surrounds, protects, and sanctifies our lands; So mighty and unparalleled
Poem by Danielle Kercy ’26 Look at yourself: Your fiery hair, heated with passion, matted from your fight, once-graceful, dancing curls now-interlocked threads of flame grappling and nipping like rabid fiends. Your face, once beautiful, so youthful and smooth, now wrinkled with rage, your pouting lips cowering behind fortified sinews
Poem by Elizabeth Califano ’28 in a friendship there are days where alone grows colder and darker throughout the day my mind gets busier like the city during the late afternoon noisy overstimulating until i found you and the noise gets cancelled out the sun shines through the clouds and
Poetry by Aren Saraydarian ’26 There comes a time in lives of men in which it must be asked Whether there is more to life than just a blank routine. Are we just robots on repeat completing what is tasked? Or is there hidden deep within a purpose yet
by Anthony Custodio-Pena ’26 One drop, one single torrent of water that lasts for a second, That’s all it takes, so simple, so small, yet why this feeling, My body feels like its on fire yet my cheeks feel moist, My mind is at ease and thoughts are clear, no
by Danielle Kercy ’26 “Bring back sprinkle munchkins!” I say to anyone who will listen. Dunkin’ Donuts used to sell plain munchkins covered in rainbow sprinkles that my elementary classmates would gladly brawl over. To be fair, they didn’t taste particularly better than the other flavors. The sprinkles added a
heal the hurt by Elizabeth Califano, ’28 sometimes it’s hard for me to understand myself to understand my own thoughts to speak them out ever so mindlessly and try to feel for a meaning, fumbling for a light switch in the dark scanning the wall and reaching out searching
“What woman is this?” Viktoria Vakser, ‘26 What woman is this? If I look in the glass I spy no one deserving of such name. I know my fiery eyes are yet aflame With some unbridled passion. If— alas!— If woman be meek, my obstinance outweighs Any vain fancies that
Mourning Dove by Danielle Kercy ’26 Its cheeks are round with youth, and its eyes are wide with innocence, Bringing me to recall my own. Its melancholic voice, gently calling for what’s lost, begging for the return of a morning that has passed, a morning we cannot get back,
