Creeks and Currents:

Making Waves

2017 Volume 10

P. K. Yonge DRS

I Am Here (Volume 3)

Chanterelle Davis, 7th

Now

Forever in the present

Not a moment too soon

Not a moment too late

Not living before my time

Or after my time

But in my time

Good memories are appreciated

But the only way to make new ones

Is not to dwell on the bad ones

My future is bright and exciting

But the only way to have one

Is to pay attention to the things happening

Today

Right now

Because that’s where I am

Focusing On Life Adam Maxwell, 12th

Student Body President, 2016-17

I live life to the fullest

But when will life be full?

When will my time be up?

Death can’t be that cool.

Some say we live to die

But I see it in a different light

With a preference to live

I stay in the ring and fight.

Without focusing on the end

I take time to accept the pain

Oh, the joy overcoming

The excitement I can’t contain.

I live life to the fullest

Though I know that death is certain

I stand on stage and give my rendition

And never close the curtain..

We wish there were a way for you to experience

(or re-read) the past nine volumes of Creeks and Currents:

Making Waves. Looking back through these magazines as

we worked on spreads for our final issue, it’s clear to us

why every magazine received gold medals, crowns, and

many other top national journalism awards.

Nine previous volumes highlighted poetry of

many formats including pantoums, blank and free verse,

sonnets, concrete, cinquains, haiku, imagery, to name a

few. Prose offered field notes, personal essays, literary

explorations, short stories…we could go on and on.

Superior art, ceramics and photography added

dimension along with tip-in touches of “envelope

packages” and brochures, mini-programs, and doodle

pages. Even candy, bubble gum and faux mirrors have

made our magazine stand out through the years.

The magazine has featured a plethora of student

writers and artists. Before we expanded to K-12 after

publishing Volume 5, we counted works from 335

different middle school writers and artists. Adding at

least that many more in the next four volumes, it is

obvious that creative talent abounds in our small school.

In Volume 10, which you are preparing to peruse

now, you will meet 270 PKY writers and artists through

their work. Most of the content is new to the magazine,

but we wanted to reprint appropriate pieces from past

issues as well since it has become clear that history

repeats itself in the wonderings, warnings, celebrations,

and outpourings of ideas emotion, and thoughts of

students over the last decade.

In the future, student literary-art magazines at

PKY will continue in various venues, and surely you will

hear voices that continue to make waves and to follow

and create currents for decades to come.

Mrs. Harrell and the 2017 staff

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Looking Forward and Back, cover art is

photo and graphite by Loren Castillo, 11th

Cresting, water color, Katherine Robinson, 11th Cresting, watercolor, Katherine Robinson, 11th

Water Poems

Water Poems The poetic water art here is an extension

of the Sister City project where 7th and 8th

grade students met with artists from

Haiti and created a community

finger painting based on water.

Guided by poet and blogger, Michelle

Barnes, students wrote poems about

what water means to them. Then they

formatted the poems in a way they

thought expressed a concept of water.

Finally, Ms. Johnson, the middle school

art teacher, overlaid the poems on

sections of the paintings students had

previously made with the Haitian artists.

Poets top to bottom,

left to right:

Marietta Long

Miranda Barnes

Ian Flores-Rodriguez

Isabel Vernon

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Poets top to bottom,

left to right

Samantha White

Catalina Aguirre

Ellie Shreve

Kaitlyn Bates

Alicia Jean-Charles

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The color I feel when a smile lands on my face

It courses through my veins like a whirlwind of emotion

Relaxing on the Farm (Volume 3) Sierra Holsbeke, 7th

Add to one hay net

Two handfuls of horses A squirt of fly spray

Four cups of sweet feed One rainbow colored sunset

One saddle, of course It’s something you need

Sprinkle a pinch of light feather mist Closing in on the trail

Stir in a cup of sweet lemonade Or maybe an ice cream cone, hand made

Add a secluded spot to hide in And a lake to boat

With an optional root beer float

Yellow Focus, photography, Emanuella Torres-Marquis, 11th

Synesthesia Zane Vesper, 6th

It tastes like the sweetest honey

on a hot summer day Yellow looks like happiness.

The rays of the sun land gently across my cheeks.

Like caramel, it melts inside of me Like lemonade, refreshes me

Yellow

Happiness No difference, really

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Joy Andrea Wright, 7th

From the shining rays of the sun

From steam drifting

around chicken noodle soup

Warmth comes

From a snuggle on a cold winter night

From the fuzzy socks in your closet or

under the bed

Comfort comes

From exercising with friends

To gathering around the summer campfire

From sweet hot cocoa swirling in your mug

From the happiness of an A+ on a test

Everywhere you go

Joy emerges

Cat Contentment, acrylic, Heather Weston, 11th

Making Waves, photography, George McDonald, 11th

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Albert Camus once said, “The evil that is in the world almost always comes of ignorance, and

good intentions may do as much harm as malevolence if they lack understanding.” I believe people

aren’t naturally good, nor are they evil. It is the experiences and teachings that shape our opinions

and who we are even if what we learn isn’t true. No human is born evil or good. However, the

ignorance or knowledge that is exposed to them will teach the lessons and principles that they will

most likely retain.

John Locke believed in the idea of

Tabula Rasa, a Latin phrase that translates

into blank slate. He believed every person is

born with no built-in mental content other

than simple primordial principles of eat or

be eaten. Through our life, our “slate” of

mind is painted through experiences and

teachings we’ve had. They change our

perspective on life and our perception of

right and wrong. An animal protection

person could hate and try to stop people

from hunting animals in all ways, but a

person who hunts to put food on

the table would think otherwise. Some arguments don’t always have all the facts and

are stated with ignorance. People dwell on ignorance because after all, life is easier to

go through with your eyes closed. Humans are raised as blank slates, and experiences

can change them for the better or the worse. But no person is purely evil or good.

Because of the blank slate, everyone has good and bad inside of them since they go through

both in their lives. Because of these experiences, their views on right and wrong also change.

Someone who has a loving dog as a pet will obviously like dogs, while a person mauled by a dog will

most likely not like dogs. These experiences change our views of right and wrong, sometimes

drastically. Therefore, we sometimes perform actions we think are right, but are actually

not good. But few people perform actions simply to hurt others for no reason. Every

action we do is usually done to help the most important person in our lives; ourselves.

We do things thinking that since it makes us feel better it’s okay, right? However, these

ignorant actions can cause problems. Taking lessons from what you’ve been through is

fine, but when you stick by opinions so strongly that you don’t take into account someone

else’s opinion and ignore the facts, it can sometimes lead to devastating problems. People will do

things thinking they are in the right only to develop clouded judgment and ignore voices that

challenge them to deeper thinking. Our experiences teach and guide us on how to deal with and

solve problems, but when we get too attached to them, they cloud our judgment and common sense.

Our perspective of how we view the world around us is dependent on what we’ve seen in it.

Two people could have opposite opinions on a subject because they’ve had different experiences

with it. Our perspective of things depends on what we know about it. Our

actions are done to help ourselves in the world.

Blank Slate Adrian Velez, 8th

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continued on next page

A Good Path (Volume 3) With inspiration from Jonathan Livingston Seagull

Kirsten Dana, 8th

No limits

Soaring high

Fulfilling your dreams

Arriving at a new place

A better place

Being worried

About what society thinks

Society who?

You will lead us to a new life

A better life

Showing us the meaning of life

Finding your inner self

And finding that

Taking the road

Less travelled

Will

Make all the difference.

Jonathan

Livingston

Seagull (Volume 3)

Hasquilla Cauchon, 8th

More to life than what is shown

You haven’t lived

If you haven’t flown

Sing out your knowing

Teach the flock

Yet watch yourself

Near walls of rock

Yes, you are dead but still alive

Breaking 62 at a steep dive

Taking chances

Get it right

Help them see

If it takes all night

However, sometimes our experiences cloud our

common sense and cause us to do brash actions to others.

We judge something only from what we know about it,

not from the all-around knowledge of what it is. To

become better, we must accept another person’s thoughts

and knowledge to create a better understanding of the

world we live in and what we can do for it. If we cloud

our thoughts with ignorance, we can lose the good we

have in us. As Jonathan Livingston Seagull was told in

Richard Bach’s novella, “Don’t believe what your eyes are

telling you. All they show is limitation. Look with your

understanding. Find out what you already know and you

will see the way to find it.”

No Limits, water color, Julian Febo, 11th

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What Makes Us Good/Evil? (Volume 3)

10% summary of December 7, 2007, Time Magazine article, Chanterelle Davis, 8th

Humans have many contradictory emotions sometimes happening at the same time. Our species

can accomplish great kindness as well as great destruction. As science progresses in behavioral studies,

it becomes harder to explain the idea that we are a unique species on earth. The qualities that we

believed separated us from other species, such as language, have recently been proved to exist in other

animals. But the one thing that surely sets us apart is our ability to differentiate right and wrong.

Morality is an interesting concept to grasp, but humans learn it quickly. We instinctively know the rules

even if we don’t always follow them.

The core of morality is the phenomenon of empathy, of understanding another’s pain as if it

were your own. This trait is not actually unique to humans. Some believe that the reason empathy is

present in so many species is because a group thrives when there is a sort of give-and-take system. I’ll

do a favor for you today; you’ll do a favor for me tomorrow. But other scientists believe that there is

more to it than that. They believe that empathy is a natural instinct that is at the core of all animals,

including humans. Sometimes just the presence of a moral compass doesn’t lead us in the right

direction. What helps push us in the right direction is community. In a community there are

expectations and punishments, and the people around you can help you understand how to apply your

basic moral building blocks.

So if we have such foolproof guiding systems to keep us moral, why do some people jump off the

bandwagon? In high scale cases like the case of a serial killer, it is probably insanity. On a smaller scale,

it is insiders vs outsiders. Do the same rules of morality apply to someone of your nationality as to

someone of a different race? Thinking about it, the answer should be yes, but it is not always so.

Masking, photography, Leandra Lopez, 11th

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Be(lie)ve (Volume 3)

Marta Olmos 7th

As little fish

with our shallow smiles

and our air filled words

we swim

Endlessly and unfailingly

with an easy backstroke

and a perfect score.

We know ourselves

like we know the air

A mystery

and a question

painted over with

the rush of the tide.

And the time

to see the truth

will only come

when the pond is dry.

Maybe Believing (Volume 3)

Rafaela Pelegrina 8th

Do you believe in the world now? Rough, hard, sad, unable to see

Do you believe in it?

Or maybe society

Shunning, cold, greedy; too frightened to change.

Do you believe in it?

Do you believe in wars, pain, hate, anger, money,

violence?

Or maybe, just maybe

You believe in your dreams

Without taking note of the consequences.

You believe in fulfilling your quest to find yourself

Your undoubtable sense of honesty and truth

Caring for the ones who loathe your company

Your power to teach them

To show them gratitude, hope, and respect

To share what you’ve learned

Do you believe in that?

Or maybe it’s just your imperishable force

Of love.

Pondering, photography, Abby Freiden, 8th

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Five Oranges Jupiter Jones, 8th

A sunset

Lying

In the palm of my hand

The pearl necklace

Of the tree

Outside my house

A flame

Extinguishable

By peeling

A tiny globe

With a juicy core

And craterous surface

Eat like an apple

If you can stand the rind

Nature Nathaniel Ruszczyk, 3rd

Mounds of dirt rising

Out of the ground

Upon it there are trees

Narrow ledges

Thousands of ants

Insects everywhere

Nests in bushes

Stars in the night sky Mushroom Man, acrylic, Andrew Thomas, 11th

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Wind rustles bushes

Lightning sparks the midnight sky

Storms brew in darkness

Sun Rebecca Schlafke, 7th

Luminous rays

Pristine haze

Peaceful feeling

Glowing, appealing

God’s great hands

A bright, strong stand

Commodious sky

Higher than high

In darkness she works

Dawn breaks, her masterpiece shines

The spider’s trap laid

It sprouted from a seed

Birds perch on its strong branches

The great oak stands tall

Phases (Volume 2)

Abby Austin, 7th

Sun

Distant, bright

Blinding, scorching, shining

Star, space, eclipse, crater

Explored, glowing, beaming

Luminous, crescent

Moon

Five Haiku (Volume 2)

Kyra Fulton, 6th

Wind blows through his mane

He runs on the open plain

The captured horse dreams

Sparkles in the sky

Guiding glitters in darkness

Starlight falls from them

Flower Fireworks, photography, George McDonald, 12th

Vine Nest, photography, Andrea Wright. 11th

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'

A dragon will fly,

High in the sky

He’d wanted to swallow the sun

But then came a knight,

Who flew up to fight,

And to him the battle was won.

The Beginning

Allan Bernard-Pantin, 11th

Encroaching Vines, photography,

Miranda Barnes, 8th

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Hello, I’m The Giant Dragon Story by Blake Long, 2nd Illustrations by Gabbi Christie, 11th

I am quiet and shy I wonder if it is all just a dream I hear the will o’ the wisps cry

I see the clouds in the sky I want a perfect life

I yearn for a world where no one leaves me I pretend that nothing is going to change unless I want it to

I dream of finding my voice I am forever lost in a lucid dream.

Lucid Dreaming Leslie Alday, 6th

Once upon a time, Little Red Riding Hood was

walking through the forest to blow off steam. Her father had recently remarried, and her step-mother was mean to her. She made Little Red do all the work. Little Red had been to a fancy dance at the castle (they had a DJ), but she had to leave before midnight, and as she ran out, she lost one of her glass crocs.

Earlier, Little Red had gone into woods to have a have a picnic in the clearing when she saw a house. The window was open, and she could smell porridge inside. In her picnic basket, she had packed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Nothing is better than PB & J with porridge, she thought. It couldn’t hurt to just have a bite. So she walked in and took a bite.

Little Red Riding Hood, Three Bears,

and a DJ (Volume 1)

Edward Bonahue, 6th

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.

“Mmmm. This is good!” she exclaimed. “It couldn’t hurt to have one more bite.” So she took another one. The second bite was better than the first. Hmm, she thought, now that I’ve taken two bites, I might as well eat the whole bowl. So she ate it.

When Little Red Riding Hood was finished, she was very tired, so she sat down in one of three chairs. It was comfy, so she watched The Crocodile Hunter for a while. When the show was over, she needed a nap. She went upstairs, lay down on a bed, and went to sleep. While she was asleep, a Mercedes Benz minivan rolled up the driveway, and three bears got out.

“I call the Xbox,” said the smallest bear. “Daddy,” it continued, “will you play Fifa with me?”

“Sure, son,” replied the largest bear.

“Swell,” exclaimed the baby bear.

When they came in, they saw that one of the bowls of porridge was gone. It was the smallest bear’s. He cried, and the father bear became furious. He was heading towards the pantry to get some more porridge when he noticed that his chair had been sat in. He stormed down the hall to check the security system. But when he passed his bedroom, he saw Little Red Riding Hood. He crept up behind her, roared his loudest roar, and ripped her red hood. Little Red screamed, jumped through the window, and ran all the way home.

When she arrived, she heard a totally awesome dance mix. She went in, and to her surprise, saw the DJ from the fancy dance. The DJ had her missing croc. Although the DJ happened to be a wolf, he didn’t seem to be hungry. She and the DJ danced the funky chicken all night. Then they got married and lived happily ever after.

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In the end, there was nothing. No clouds, no rain, no thunder. There was no pain. No yellow or jeans. No fire, no purple or sleep. Neither was there a start. No candles went out. No one held her own against a slur of unfortunate events. There were no ropes.

There was no language or talking. There was nothing to see, nothing to ride, and nothing to break. Trees were not trees. Noise was neither quiet, nor annoying, nor loud. There was no pepper or taste. No trimmed bushes or any plants growing in an endless field.

There were no robbers stealing items. There were neither successions of moments nor sayings. There were no books or brains. No dirt or eggs. No raccoons, hummingbirds, or alligators.

In the start, there were no rules and nothing was different. There was nothing to look at. And no editing or changing of the information of the thing being looked at. Neither were there noses or sight. There were no ants. Bees did not nurture the flowers. There was no growing, no flowers, no bees of any kind. There were no flames.

Talking, writing, melody, books, winning, putting objects in order, and specialty were nothing. There was no length. There were no hurricanes and no change in the air. There was no air and no fighting. There was no sweat or memories of the past, no possibility of dreams. For sweat, memories, and dreams didn’t exist. There was no killing. There were no treasure chests or ideas. There was no blood. Nothing pushed. There was no one or even two even numbers. There was no blue.

In the start, there was nothing to lift and nothing to lift inside the brain. Since there was no start, no end, and no brain. The world also did not exist. Nothing moved. There were no races, no urgencies, no pictures or lack of pictures and no cash. There were no pens. It’s the starting point. There were no people.

Fish Speech (Volume 6)

Fredrick Fang, 7th

Frederic Fang, Grade

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82 I loved the way Carla Harryman, in “Fish Speech,” used lots of words to

say there were no words, so I made a similar story replacing many key words with my own.

The Morning Star cries,

As he readies his lies

The knight goes questing to fail.

The Lord of the Flies

He lives and he dies

As the dragon swallows its tail.

I used to believe that magic wands and ghosts

Were not just in books

That animals talked and potions produced

All sorts of powers that you could cook.

But now I know to depend on that

Is very insecure

The only magic that mystifies

Is what lies in the future.

I Used To, But Now (Volume 1)

Natalie Jones, 7th

Lost in Space, water color, Riley Vaudreuil, 11th

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The End Allan Bernard-Pantin, 11th

Look at That, paint chip collage, Sean Eunice, 12th

Spotty Certainty, pen, Sean Eunice, 12th

The cat in the box is dead

The cat in the box is alive

The cat in the box is in my head

I can’t be late, I must get ahead

I release the break and shift into drive

The cat in the box is dead

Down the road is a sign that read,

“Construction: Keep speed at seventy-five”

The cat in the box is in my head

Rain is pouring from the clouds that bled,

The drops strike hard as they arrive

The cat in the box is dead.

Spinning around I’m filled with dread

I see the water below and hope to survive

The cat in the box is dead.

The cat in the box is in my head.

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The Cat in the Box

Martin Arandia, 12th

Spotty Certainty, pen, Sean Eunice, 12th

Both Martin’s and Chase’s poems are inspired by Robert Francis’ The Hound (printed on page 85). They convey the theme of uncertainty presented in Francis’ original poem.

We adopted a cat months ago

Rather, the cat may have adopted us.

While my love for the cat can only grow

I always find myself without trust.

My sister lets it in and it lies on her lap

My mother questions if it is really tame.

So when I close my eyes for a quick nap

I dream of a cat’s ability to maim

The Cat Chase Bourn, 12th

Cat Nap, acrylic, Auora Young, 10th

85

The Hound by Robert Francis

1901-1987

Life the hound

Equivocal

Comes at a bound

Either to rend me

Or to befriend me.

I cannot tell

The hound’s intent

Till he has sprung

At my bare hand

With teeth or tongue.

Meanwhile I stand

And wait the event.

Warning Words Peyton Collins, 10th

Words can seem broken

As can people

Some are hard and complex to understand

As are people

Some are simple and easy to understand

So are people

Words are different and fascinating

But they can hurt and stab

People use words like these to hurt others

To shape themselves

Words stay and are never lost

As are the people who said them

Words can be friendly and kind

Words can be used to make friends

Not just enemies

They are used to shape others

Not only tear them apart

They are not supposed to be used to harm

They are meant to be used to express emotion.

“From out of the heart…” pencil, Nikki Bennett, 12th

Locked In, photograph, Emanuella Torres-Marquis, 11th

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“the mouth speaks” Luke 6:45

Walking a Mile in My Shoes Kiran Jaishankar, 8th

They shipped me, whipped me

They put me in a chain; I felt the pain

I shed a tear of fear

They abuse me, misuse me

I hide in mud covered in blood

Segregation is a form of domination

Separated from society, differentiated by color

They say they have authorityover my property

I escaped wearing only a cape

I lost my identity; they controlled my destiny

Emphasized as a monster, generalized as a criminal

I sit and cry wishing I could fly

Somewhere, anywhere

White man starting a brand new klan

I’d be shot with a gun if I tried to run

I’m under investigation

Trya reach my destination

I’m in jail without bail

They’re bluffing; said I’ve done something

I’ve done nothing wrong, but I go along

They label; I feel unstable

They have a fixation that we’re one nation

I disagree; I just wanna be free

I try to let out some steam; hoping this is just a dream

I shut my eyes ignoring all the lies

Hazara A poetic representation of Hassan

inspired by Khaled Hosseini’s The Kite Runner

Alex Suarez-Martinez 10th Just a Hazara.

Is that all I am to you Amir Agha?

A good for nothing Hazara

you can’t even admit to being friends with

Oh I’m just a Hazara.

You know the illiterate and ignorant Hazara

who was able to find a plot hole

in a now renowned author’s writing.

Just a Hazara.

Who spent every day tending to your home

Cooking and cleaning

While you were away at school, learning

Just a Hazara.

The loyal Hazara who

has defended you countless times

Even after you teased me and neglected me

The Hazara who put you before himself

and saved your reputation

Even after knowing

The horrible sins you’ve committed

I may just be a Hazara to many eyes

Including your own

But I die as a kite runner.

Persevering forward every single day

Regardless of the animosities and conflicts

the world decides to throw at me.

The last thing I will say to you, Amir Agha,

My best friend

My brother

Is that you don’t know what you have

Until it is gone.

Six Ways of Looking at Eyes Zane Vesper, 7th

An open window

A strong wind blows inside

Nearly spherical

Hollow organs

Lined with a sensitive retina

A glimpse

You see it briefly

The depth of the soul

Gone

Shallow

I can see right through you

A sound

A rustle

Then silence

Dead

Too much

Too soon

No hope

Inspired by Wallace Stephens’

13 Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

Fly Away, water color, Ryan Gorday, 12th

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