agathon 2015
DESCRIPTION
This year's 28-page book features student poetry, fiction, and artwork in a format that's as clean and crisp and the writing it contains. The editors present Barstow's 49th Agathon, an electronic file that can't be torn, lost or mis-delivered.TRANSCRIPT
AGAT
HO
N P
G
0 0
SP
RI
NG
2
01
5
PG
0 2
RAINBOW by Simon Huston, K
Red is the color for a bowOrange is the sunset that glows
Green is the color of grass and treesBlue is the color of the sky and waterViolet is the color that attracts bees
But indigo is the prettiest color in the rainbow.
PG
0 3
Luke Gerson, ’15
PG
0 4
GLASSES by Ashley Decker, 8th
I couldn’t see the ocean, I couldn’t see the waves. I didn’t even know there were waves.
Just a blue blur, like paint splattered on a blank canvasTripping over nothing,
Catching something that wasn’t there.A trick of the mind it was.
But now, it is clear.The water moves,
The clouds have shape.And the grass blows in the wind.
Placing vison on my head, Gaining clarity with the magic of an object placed on my face.
My eyes were given to me.
PG
0 5
Emily Reed, ’16
PG
0 6
HARLEM RENESSAINCE by Zoe Rein, 8th
These days it seems we would bleedTo satisfy our never ending greed
Sick with the passion for moreWe try to turn the red of blood to green and gold
Gaining riches that seem impossible to beholdNothing more than empty shells of people searching for more
Struggling against all logic to proveAn unknown point of wealth that removes
Humanity in search of only moreAn inferno of desire
It turns the honest into liarsSince there is no room for truth when there is more
Why do we strive for this with such ferocityWhen all that lies after the monstrosity
Is despair?Oblivious to the cryOf people left to die
Because more is not for everyoneWhile we continue with fruitless whims
Unnoticed lies the person with freezing limbsUnable to take shelter from freezing winter windsNo shame in betraying previous friends anymoreCrimes committed against those we used to adore
There is no telling what war we wouldn’t fight to achieve the elusive moreBut hopefully, someday society will realize
They will truly open up their currently blinded eyesTo the horrible ongoing enigma of more.
PG
0 7
Troy Workman, ’17
PG
0 8
NEW SHOES by Michael Yagan, K
New shoesThey’re clean There’s mud
Jump in the new shoes and they’re dirty.
PG
0 9
Autumn Shemitz, ’23
PG
1 0
THE ARGUMENT by Skylar Martinek, 7th
My feet glide across the carpeted floor in the dark hallway as I rush into my sister’s room.
I enter the room alertly, then throw down the clothes that she believes are mine, but I
believe are hers.I race out of the room with a enthusiastic look on my face
feeling as if I have convinced my sister that the clothes are hers!
As I am about to turn into my room, I hear a loud stomping echo behind me.
I realize what is about to happen therefore, I race away with only fear in my eyes.
My running wasn’t fast enough, it’s too late.I rush into my mom’s room telling her about this aggravating
disagreement between her favorite daughter, me, and her least favorite daughter, my
sister.Even though I am the favorite daughter, I couldn’t convince my
mom.I look down the hall to see a smirk across my sister’s face.
Now what was that for?She thinks that the game is over? No.
The game has just begun.
PG
1 1
Payal Desai,’15
PG
1 2
BASEBALL by David Guldin, 4th
Babe Ruth loved baseballBo Jackson loved it too
Before each game, teams practiceBombing hits all over the field
Bubble gum being chewed from the beginning to endBaseball is played day and night
Baseball is played by people of all agesBeloved baseball fans cheer all game long
Bats swung with a crack at the endBaseballs soar to the outfield and drop
Before the outfielder’s glove for a Base hit that makes the crowd explode.
PG
1 3
Lincoln Stueve, ’25
PG
1 4
[TIME]FRAME by Rosie Pasqualini, 11th
I want hands for eyes. I wantto draw my lost reflections[’ last directions] from
the waterin your lungs frothing rabid spittle where
the new god in her sterile beauty promised you air.
I want hands for eyes. I wantto puncture the yolk of dawn with my nails
and fashion from its milky drippings an omeletyou can swallow whole. you are [for]
a moment in the making,a day unfit for breaking.
Now hungry as dogs we wander the streets
[and through the breathless fog we wander ourselves—]Now I chase your soul along the white highway lines
[and we shiver at the glint of a new corvette—]
!Now you drown……...in severed stillness……………..like a stringless marionette.
I want hands for eyes. I want
to stretch my skin like silk across the two-by-two[time]frame sick with gravity so thick
it isn’t there. I should have loved a monday,
I should have [be]held you harder
when you plucked the dust from your slipperslike it mattered, like
ordinary disorder was a languageyou gathered, flesh unfurled, reaping
everyrottingword.
PG
1 5
Arjun Mohan, ’25
PG
1 6
LOOK THROUGH YOUR OWN EYES by Carly Howard, 7th
I was told to write a poem about a place, object, and emo-tion.
I was told to make it sound like me, so that’s what I’m going to do.
Look through your own eyes.First, let’s get something straight.
I am a place, I am everywhere I’ve been.I am an object, I am everything around me.
I am a series of emotions, I’m everything I have ever felt.The place that is me, is a beautiful, colorful world.
In a place that is me, hate is forgotten, and left behind. I am not a number on a scale, a score on a test, a price.
I am organic, and one of a kind, flaws and all. The object that is me, is not a number.
That doesn’t make me your object.The emotion that is me, is everything.
I am more than happy or sad. I am a never ending series of imperfections and perfection.
This is why an emotion can’t be explained. Everybody lives their life differently and explains the world
from their point of view.Look through your own eyes.
PG
1 7
Lauren Sandness, ’15
PG
1 8
A JOURNEY by Kristin Tingle, 8th
First were the islands, Where I went
Barefoot until two.
Next came the seashore, And a new little sister,
Who loved nothingMore than the sea.
Then was the old city, Where I didn’t take NAPS*
But we did go to school there.
After that came a town, With a second grade of “no” And a crashing sea of cars.
Finally the suburbs, With a nice sprawling parkAnd spelling “hemisphere”On Fridays instead of “no.”The life of a “Marine Brat.“
It was a start anew, Just like others before.
But this time it’s different. This time it’s for sure
No more movingEvery three Octobers
No more housing on baseNo more temporary homes.
This time it’s friendsThat will last a lifetime
Not just while I stay This time it’s a new start
A lasting beginningA place to find new friends
A time to lose old ones A place to grow up
A place to learn A place to live.
*NAPS Naval Academy Primary School
PG
1 9
Blair Huxman, ‘17
PG
2 0
HAIR by Simone Huston, 3rd
Hair is different colors.It smells like shampoo.It tastes like chemicals.It sounds like the wind.
Hair feels like tennis shoe laces.
PG
2 1
Isabella Welty,‘25
PG
2 2
FROM SOUTH TO NORTH by Sam Short, 6th
Billboards now blood-stained cracksIncandescent hills now dust-caked and foggy
Horses now squealingReapers seeking scythes
Stones are crackedThe drinkers deafened.
Children beneath mewith starry eyes flashing
They hold courage and bitterness inside their hearts. They are like outcasts
harboring chained hearts.
Green paints and amethyst shoesEager dreams of soft laughs and hyacinths
Romance whistling in the nightTamarack gardens under the moon.
PG
2 3
Morgan Boeh, ‘17
PG
2 4
GROWTH by Stella Kahl, 8th
A seed flashing bitter courage And hold the land beside another
Beneath the fields Stems swoon the hills
A life-like plant with a heart.
Fall grows dark Lone pears weep
Fruits hurt by frozen frostsA fallen snowflake from heaven
Weary woods mere grayA world that cannot barter mirth.
Hidden beautifully by dusk Long pale grass held dreams of legends
Night seemed softBlack armor forgotten The light of the moonMeticulously aglow.
Dewy stones crack the hillsBeads play songs between oat-fields
Ears deaf to the echo.
PG
2 5
Troy Workman, ’17
PG
2 6
FALL IS by Addison McNeive, 1st
Fall is Fun family snuggling,Glowing moon shining, Colourful leaves falling,
And red apples crunching.
PG
2 7
Danielle DePriest, ‘15
PG
2 8
A SPECIAL THANKS
2015 EDITORIAL STAFF
Editor-in-ChiefPreston Schwartz
Executive EditorsLili Tucker
Faiza Aslam