quill and - 4.files.edl.io · quill and ink staff 2017-2018 coeditors zoe woodruff and sydney frost...

Quill and Ink 2017-2018

Student Art and Literature from North

Davidson High School

7227 Old U.S. Highway 52 Lexington, North Carolina 27295

Volume 3, Issue 1

Each volume of ND’s Quill and Ink magazine has been formed by the work of the students, and is a fair representation of the issues and moments experienced by the ND student body. For this year’s issue of the Quill and Ink magazine, the majority of submissions were focused on finding and promoting self-love. This common thread connected students from ages 14-18 and from students of all backgrounds and experiences.

Literature & Teens

“Literature is an important avenue for teenagers to place their own experiences in context with the world around them.” - John Day

“Sometimes people complain about their English classes, asking why the subject is important. I try to tell them: Writing is the way that we learn who we really are, and reading is the way that we understand how to live. It isn’t what is, but what isn’t important in the subject?” - Paul Piatkowski

About Quill & Ink

Quill and Ink meets every Tuesday and Thursday at 7:30 AM and 3:00 PM in Mr. PK’s room ( room #106). The club unites lovers of English and is a great way to enhance writing styles and meet new friends.

Quill and Ink Staff 2017-2018

Coeditors

Zoe Woodruff and Sydney Frost

Junior Editor

Erin Yandell

Staff Advisor

Paul Piatkowski

Writing Club Staff

Jillian Jordan

Justin Fuchs

Marshall Parvin

Gabe Ramirez

Quill and Ink 2018 1

Table of Contents

Cover Art by Marya Sorn

Table of contents………………………………………………………………………………………………...2

Poetry

Section Page Art by Natalie Flinchum………………………………………………………………………………………...4

I Bow to You by Kathryn Watson………………………………………………………………………………………………...5

I asked Myself by Rachel Rose…………………………………………………………………………………………………….6

Uneasy by Briana Rodriguez………………………………………………………………………………………………………...7

Love by Briana Rodriguez……………………………………………………………………………………………………………...8

My World by Alex Johnson……………………………………………………………………………………………………………...9

The Cave by Edmund O. ………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..11

Nature Girl by Gabriel Ramirez………………………………………………………………………………………………………..13

Moon by Gabriel Ramirez………………………………………………………………………………………………………………...14

The Sketched Girl by Anonymous…………………………………………………………………………………………………….15

Silent Killing by Dalton Downer……………………………………………………………………………………………………..17

Sonnet 910 by Sarah Lane………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..18

Nature Writing by Susan Flick…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..19

[Inside the Branch was a whole ecosystem] by Hayley Heilman………………………………………………………..20

The Mental Game by Erin Yandell………………………………………………………………………………………………………..21


Prose

Section Page Art by Alanna Perrell………………………………………………………………………………………………...22

Nature Writing by Susan Flick………………………………………………………………………………………………………….23

Nature Writing by Isabelle Yates………………………………………………………………………………………………………...23

Nature Writing by Daci Grubert…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..23

Nature Writing by Lilyen Souen…………………………………………………………………………………………………………23

Nature Writing by Mia Redi………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….23

Nature Writing by Summer Reich…………………………………………………………………………………………………………24

Artwork

Art by Alanna Perrell…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………25


Poetry

Artwork by Natalie Flinchum


I Bow to You by Kathryn Watson I bow to you while I am Vulnerable Otherwise I wouldn’t unless forced I bow down in front of you in pain Embarrassed by my stance and unable to hold back In public hopefully no one hears At home hopefully no one hears Uncomfortable no matter where I am in this occurrence Bowing just intensifies how un-incontrol I feel I didn’t do anything for this to happen Why do i feel like I am being punished? The feeling wakes me up and it lasts for so long before the climax I wait, dreading the future happening Sickness mentally or physically, Forced or unforced, makes anyone vulnerable and weak. It makes it even harder to try to feel strong again, But it can be done.


I Asked Myself by Rachel Rose

I asked my Mind, He told me to be strong.

This gave me pause and made me think at length.

I asked my Soul, It told me to last long.

So I went on a journey to gain strength.

Once my quest finished, Body in armor,

I thought I had found an answer suffice.

For I had searched great lengths for my power.

But found my Heart, lying without much life.

“You forgot me--left me here,” She pleaded,

“To complete yourself, you left behind all

Feeling and compassion that you needed.

If unfixed, everything you are will fall.”

Tears streaming down my face, Heart in my hands.

And then I set out for softer, kinder lands.


Uneasy by Briana Rodriguez

As the darkened falls and the windows fog the sun lingers.

I close my eyes in hopes that the night will fade away briskly,

So that my mind no longer has to feel uneasy.


Love by Briana Rodriguez

People wish and dream for fame and fortune.

I on the other hand wish and dream for love.

Love is an extraordinary feeling of deep affection, fondness, and endearment.

Nothing is more valuable than love.


My World by Alex Johnson It’s not your fault, I was always a mess. When I would speak, I would fail to express. The world is horrible, That much I can saw. It will never be whole, With this price to pay. But it wouldn’t matter either way. Our time is limited, Even if it is long. We are not invincible, Together we’re strong. The world is horrible, That much I can say. But we will cover it up, With our own stage to play. But it wouldn’t matter either way. What does it mean When my heart has been aching? When it has been shaking? Each hour constantly quaking? It means the world is horrible, That much I can saw. I will never stop hurting, When way leads to way. But it wouldn’t matter either way. People argue, yes I know. But why have such quarrel When we have places to go? The ice in our heart is eternal, Because the world is a horrible, Terrible, ruthless world. This much is certain.


What else am I to say? Because it doesn’t matter either way. The world will always scheme, Our lives will always restart. When I look inside my dream, When I look inside my heart, My world is horrible, terrible, Unbearable, Undesirable, and cruel. What else am I to say? With this I close my curtain . . . Because it wouldn’t matter either way.


The Cave By Edmund O. I enter the cave, Dreary, dark, damp, colorless An oppressive fog seeps through Wanting to repel Wanting to keep anything new from entering Deeper and deeper I go Becoming more and more misplaced Feeling my body ebb away. My movements becoming more slow and automatic My thoughts, more simple and grey I wait, wordlessly wondering Listening to my footsteps The sound echoing on the walls and into my head The water drips to an irregular beat Life a drummer boy going to war Like a heartbeat pittering out Thunk Drip Thunk Drip Soon, however, even those noises become little more than a small pitter-patter Becoming as grey as the cave around them Further I travel into darkness The Light of the world long gone Replaced by formations of grey-colored rocks The sound, too, has changed— Whispering dark thoughts Dark memories Dark ideas Dark thoughts Into my mind At the Center I find


A dragon made of stones With wings of dead branches Spitting fire A fire that burns away the soul Leaving nothing But grey I put up my shield Willing myself to move on Trying to make the fire encourage me To drive me forward To keep fighting But there is too much I am plunged into a sea of grey An ocean of flames And I am without a raft SNAP! A notched arrow is let loose Bringing with it a stream of color Fissures emerge to seal away the monster Beating it back Sealing the grey A fissure lifts me up Shrouding me with color Healing the burns The others have subdued the dragon Containing it within a sphere of color We walk out of the cave, and while others cheer, I wonder When the dragon will break free again.


Nature Girl by Gabriel Ramirez The girl, once with grace I think I’ve lost my touch The straw I search in a storm Where I left you, is where I will wait Hold my hand with grace I seek to live Within the green Love whoa Hold my hand with grace I think I’ve lost my touch


Moon by Gabriel Ramirez You’re my moon. Always with me no matter where I am. You change with the seasons You go from waning to waxing As the days pass by You are never the same as I Saw you last but somehow You’re still the same beautiful person I knew You’re constantly moving and growing As a person with Knowledge orbiting through Your beautiful mind that Expands beyond eons. Just as the moon orbits around The earth, you’ll do the same Spreading your knowledge and Beauty.


The Sketched Girl by Anonymous Lines, marks, ticks on the page Swirls for her hair Almond eyes Glowing skin Captivating moles on her neck Sketching ever part of her Eraser marks scattered through Out the page Each mark, swirl, and pencil Shaving makes her the Sketched Girl


Containment by Dalton Downer What is fear of skin touching the same skin? You become dark and sinful? Or is it that you turn into an evil villain that always wins? Should a door to the closet be opened? Or should you just sit there and nest in your own claustrophobia? Coiled into winding hate that tends only to become more visible Along with the tormenting allusions of what you call sanity Given the measurements to the tallness of love Only to be cut down to what you can alter Indenting the youth to ward away the gold they seek With a ring of marriage that is only visible when it's on your finger


Silent Killing by Dalton Downer Painting with the blood of your savior With an unsweetened glory of self gratitude Unashamed of what's to come Unaware of what has been done Acidic enough to deteriorate the canvas Only to find out the blood was of a savior that's no more But still drawn to the very same savior that you depicted Unable to see beyond your own world Still trying to mold around someone whose blood is as bitter as your own Trapping that very soul in an unconditional sphere of misguided emotions, Allowing only your own intentions to be conducted into their mind, Draining their sanity into a cup that you drink to fulfill that unsweetened glory, Which has already been served to you on a silver platter


Sonnet 910 by Sara Lane My heart clings to the shape of your body's form, You stretch your limbs and my chest swells with glee, Like when you laugh and smile and look at me, And at your will sweet emotions do swarm, You fade out the embers of my fiery scorn, I never believed in wishful decree, Now I am wishing on every star I see, Your skin brushes mine, suddenly I'm reborn, Your lips like waves crash into my bare skin, Erupting beneath my breast a fluttering, My heart, a volcano flowing for you, With words like howling wind you draw me in, Delicate fingertips make my bones sing, With every not I fall more deeply for you.


Nature Writing by Susan Flick The mature tree scrapes the sky The mature tree has grown into four The tree of four is one I am the tree I'm the tree made of many, many branches The branches of friends and family The branches of creativity and patience The branches of humbleness and courage They all grow as branches from me They all grow from the tree I am the tree The tree is me


Inside the branch was a whole ecosystem by Haley Heilemann I do not fear the sky, I fear the loneliness I will feel When the sky decides to let me go. The one place she felt at home was the sea, She took in the salty smell of the sea air That contradicted with everything sweet that she loved She liked the vastness of her views and it made her feel small—but safe She fell in love with the ever changing horizon and how the colors made her feel free. I picked up the rotting branch, On the outside it looked fit enough to belong to a tree But as I let it rest on my fingers and let it slowly fall apart I realized I didn't know this branch as well as I thought I did. Inside were bugs and dead leaves and lots of life. Maybe I looked at everything this way Maybe every person I knew had another person inside of them One that no one knew but them


The Mental Game By Erin Yandell The sun burns my skin. Sweat trickles down my face. My racket is secure in my grip. My eyes fixate on the ball tossed in the air. My heart pounds in anticipation as the ball glides across the net. My world shrinks, my vision narrows. My arm winds back. The ball strikes my racket strings. The vibration travels up my arm. My entire body rotates with power as the ball hurls over the net. My mind is my first defense against my opponent. I lose sight of my opponent if I let frustration consume my thoughts. Mental strength is my first motivator, second is my swing. Without it, I will be shaking hands with my opponent, faking a smile As I stagger back to my team. Ashamed, knowing I let frustration consume me.


Prose

Art by Alanna Perrell


Life is everywhere, at least it was. Way back when you'd go outside and only see nature. Now in the age of modernization we don't even go out, in fright of what we might see. Occasionally a tree here and a clutter of leaves, but everything is poisoned by men. Over there a tire, next to me cement. Even these aged stools from the death of trees we sit on. We can help the trees and the environment, but not until we help ourselves. If we ourselves are poisoned with greed, carelessness, and hate we become blind. We must regain our sight and filter out the negativity from each other so we can filter the toxins from nature.

—Susan Flick Trees are the very foundation of our living. Providing oxygen, supports, supplies, and giving life. All take on different forms and produce different products. All grow in different ways, take on new forms and adapt based off different events. Looking into the woods, there is a thick canopy. Different heights, different leaves, different bark, different types, all growing in one place. Some half-alive, fighting for life, some thriving and flourishing, others are just simply there. Some young, some old, some short, some tall, some reaching the top, some barely off the ground. We all take on different forms. We are shaped by experience. Some new on this journey, some halfway there, some have reached the end. Some holding on to the little they have and some thriving in the height of success. Different forms, different experiences, but all growing in some form. All together, in one place, on this journey we call life, in one place, all together.

—Isabelle Yates There's a tree in the woods by my school. It starts to grow and then halfway up it splits into two separate branches. Friends are like that too. In elementary and middle school you meet people who you grow with and think you'll be friends with forever. As you go to high school and keep growing and eventually you start to split and grow into different branches. You may still talk and grow together but you're different forms now.

—Daci Grubert There are any things in life that have unexpected turns that can cause problems, but like the tree that's in front of me it continues to go on or u, like life it gets hard to go through, but you have to keep going on. There's many obstacles in life like how the tree continues to have random curves in it while it still goes on to grow. No matter how bad life might get everybody must continue on with life like how many trees change and bends in different ways it still goes on to grow into something better.

—Lilyen Souen

All around they are tall and somewhat overwhelming. Among me I stand in the middle of them, as they so easily sway in the wind and tower over me. I make my way through the large forest and I try to find my place. Tay all seem to fit in and know exactly which way each limb should stick out, but me, I'm still finding my way. Isee that they have all been stuck into the ground, almost to say, "this is where I belong", and as I ponder just a bit longer I feel myself swaying with the wind, I know exactly which way to move. Now, I too have been stuck in the ground, this is where I belong.

—Mia Reid


They tell me plants are friends; the green vines give me the ability to breathe. I water my garden, but when I reach out to touch her, she bites me.My body rejects her feel. She is a plant of poison, and the air she gives off is so sweet to my lungs. She is good for me at a distance. In life, most things are better at a distance. Good things are good until you get too close. Until you see the truth. You do not want to know what lies under the surface of those who provide for you, nor do you need to know. The sweetest kisses come in the forms of bites.

—Summer Reich


Art by Alanna Perrell


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