May Part 3 | 2023

May Part 3 | 2023

May Part 3 | 2023

May Part 3 | 2023

May Part 3 | 2023

May Part 3 | 2023

May Part 3 | 2023

May Part 3 | 2023

Naya Green

Self Portrait

Sailing Through Heaven

Ella Green

To fly through the sky

In a bird-shaped body

With windows and wings

And a bird’s eye view of the earth—

What a strange, spectacular thing!

To be below the clouds

Looking down on the earth,

To be inside a cloud with only pure, fluffy white in sight,

And to be above the clouds,

Soaring through a sky of vibrant, glorious colors,

Blue, white, red, orange, 

And the most beautiful of all,

Glowing gold.

My mind

Glides in and out of dreams

As I sail through Heaven’s stunning seas!


Madelynn Borey

Seven Yellow Butterflies

Ella Green

Seven yellow butterflies

Fragile and urgent look

How they flick and flutter

Their papery wings as they fly

To the mustard gold grasses

And rich red wild clovers

All eternity is in the moment

Where the eyes fly and focus in

On the small, significant beauties of 


Wisdom and thoughtfulness

Are stirred motion of the mind

Seven dancers playfully bounce and prance through

The flowers

Even as bees toward

Their honey-hive paradise fly,

See how they frolic and float through the air

To their home

In the humble tree’s love and care,

See how they thrust their fuzzy, yellow and black-striped bodies

With persistent passion

Into the syrupy honeycomb

Weighing heavy with their labor liquid,

See how they dive into flowers,

Sucking from its center

The honey-milk of nectar.

The butterflies cease their dancing for a second

And hover over the flowers,

Ready and willing to surrender themselves

To the floral universe

. . . 

Now each settles down

On a soft, yellow stage

With red-petalled curtains

Held high above the ground

On a green stem tower


All seven are vigorously drinking

From the red buildings.

Who would have thought it could be so simple?


Ella Green


Make your beautiful appearance now,

Owl, dark bird of brown,

Messenger in song

Of life that is intentional

And death that is inevitable


Whose sonorous song

Comes flaming red

Into the world

From his mouth,

Never stop making your melodious music

Under the watch of the moon.


I have not seen you now 

For far too long a time.

Don’t leave,

Don’t torture me with your absence,

I delight in your comforting presence,



Flapping and clacking

The pulse of your wings,

Your dark, wise head

Oh rise

Out of the thick, fluffy pines

When you peer down on the world

With your amber eyes.

. . . 

How everything 


Then settles and comes to rest

From mere prevalence

Into the beauty of meaning.

Above the Clouds

Ella Green

Above the clouds, I fly,

Seeing the fudgy mountain peaks

Peppered in powdered sugar snow,

The bumpy, red-wrinkled land

That looks like an expanse

Of Mars on Earth,

The green-quilted grasslands,

The rocky-textured land

That splits into rivers and rivulets,

The smooth streaks

Of rosy pink, light orange, and faint yellow

That stain the horizon with their beauty,

And the sparkling city lights

Where stars fell from the dark night

And shattered,

Leaving their glimmering glitter so beautiful and bright.

To be above the clouds—

What a wonderful thing,

To see the world beneath your feet

In a new, different way,

Oh, how refreshing and awe-inspiring!

Dragon by Talitha Lubben

Dear God

Ella Green

“Dear God”, 

I said every night before bed as a little kid

I said hand in hand before dinner at the holiday family gathering

I said after the start of our first period class.

How innocent it was as a little kid

So easy to see what wasn’t there

So easy to talk to an invisible man who promised to always be.

Years went by and the “Dear God” before bed became less frequent.

It was hard to talk to someone that I couldn’t even see. 

What if He's not really there?

What if it was just a youthful imagination that gave me comfort as a kid?

What if I'm pouring my whole life out to nothing?

How do I know?

I can't see this mysterious man.

I want to have control of my own life.

I can’t let this imagination take hold of my vulnerable side.

Nobody can take hold of my vulnerable side. 

I am left alone.

I tell myself I want it that way.

Yet somehow all I feel like I can do is say that simple phrase.

Like maybe I can escape back to that little girl laying in her twin sized bed.

I force a “Dear God” into the dark empty bedroom.

No response yet I keep on.

I share every little thought that goes across my mind.

And somehow I feel Him there.

It's like I'm her again.

Innocent, vulnerable, heard.

No matter how big my Imagination was, God was still there.

He was always there.

I just had to talk to him. 


by Clara Monahan & Ella Green


Darby Hood

At tea with an old friend-

Divinities to the others.

See how I found this end, 

O noble, sacred brother?

Twisted words with clever lies

That I would gain their favor.

Drew a face to suit their eyes

Fight for my birthright’s labor

Won them all and yet somehow

My fate remains the same

I fell for one, who’s left me now

The one they all will blame

Ironic, how the foil of my plan

Should be a child of the sun.

Eight beats the seventh, I die for a man

But better than to live for one

Chance’s favor wanes from my grasp

I’m left with fresh love’s pain inside.

So I sit with you, good friend asp,

And linger with a shame I can’t abide.

One Mistake

Ean Landfare

August | 2023
May Part 2 | 2023
May | 2023
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