Past Works from The Lyre

Below are a few randomly selected samples of student work published in magazines.

Stop Him Now
by Anonymous

Stop him now, his hair's a-growing
The boy's cut seems not a-showing
His locks of flax seem quite a-glowing
Quiet boy, end thy moaning
Your hair is ready, quit such groaning
The teacher sobbed the length beholding
Too long for school--quit thy loathing
To end thy pain, a simple snipping
Cut it now, your fate is slipping.
 

Sounds of the Symphony
by Rafael Migoyo '11

Waves of timpani glistening with a whistle in my ear.
Whining and waning go the brass,
with the low monotone and high screeches of the winds.
Quivering rods of clamor
bouncing and bouncing off the plastic base
as trumpets triumphantly march down the alley
of majesty and mystery hand in hand...
 

Waiting for the Turning Point
Excerpt from a short story by Jacob Pedrero '12

...Over the past few months, there had been so much happiness in James' life. After all, he was in love. Love can overcome all things, or so he had been told.  And yet, in an instant, every remaining splinter of this shattered love disappeared and was replaced by jealousy. His heart, strained and resolute as it had been, was broken...
 

To the World's Creator
by Percy Legendre IV '10

To the world's creator, a merciful God
I beg, I ask, I plead, for just one thing --
I find the suff'ring world you've made quite odd.

I see a family stare into a pot --
Rather empty--and fold their hands and sing
To the world's creator, a merciful God.

I see many politicians nod,
But turn the cheek when it's their turn to swing--
I find the suff'ring world you've made quite odd.

And to the victims of the firing squad
Who true to faith and love do plead and cling
To the world's creator, a merciful God...
 

A Boy from Newark
by Derek Herscovici '10

There once was a boy from Newark
Who never completed his work
He'd laugh and he'd play
And stay out all day
And his attention would always divert.
 

Moonlit Silk
by Andreas LaTourette '10

Moonlit silk, swaying in the night wind,
Dancing and wrapping
Growing less temperate now,
Some would say violent,
Less like silk now, less delicate, less refined,
More like a flurry of snow and ice clashing together, cutting the air
burning flesh...