Introducing the Cyclone Chronicle's Creative Corner!

Check out these five poems from students in Professor Linda Presto’s WRI 2040 - Writing Poetry course. The writers come from various majors, and we’re sharing their work to kick off our new 'Creative Corner' in The Cyclone Chronicle, a space for Cyclones to showcase their creative side through our school newspaper.

The school newspaper is excited to announce our first Photography and Poetry Contest! Get a chance to be published in our paper. Send your submissions to kayla.diee@centenaryuniversity.edu by November 15, 2024. Show us what you’ve got and make your work part of our campus story!  

Dear Alexandra

By: Victoria Autocunas

Sophomore, Journalism Major

Dear Alexandra, 

I've been thinking about it for a while. I've been in love with you since seventh grade. Four years. Finding out about you and him shattered my heart. I know you will never love me but I will always love you. You were my first love.

The first time I saw you in Language Arts class and you smiled at me and I fell in love. I get chills throughout my body just thinking about it. You were the rainbow I didn’t see but everyone else did. 

Last year when you dated Satan it ate me alive. Hearing how he hurt you made me want to punch his face. If only I could have whispered my true feelings to you.

 I remember that day so well. I went home on the bus and it was nearly black outside. In my room I pondered why it wasn’t me you loved and my heart shattered. 

Full blown thunderstorms poured out of my eyes. 

Yours forever,

Victoria 💋

Pomegranate

By: Severn Hollern

Sophomore, Creative Writing and Performance Studies Major

I had a dream you ate me.
It wasn’t a nightmare. It was you and I,
side by side.
You had a pomegranate.

You asked,
I promised
to peel
your pomegranate.

So, I split it open with my fingers
and peeled the fruit for you to eat.
You ate from my palms,
red staining your lips and teeth.
You looked at me,
you beam.

Juice running down your chin,
your glowing eyes,
the flesh of our fruit dripping from your fangs—
I realized
when your eyes sang.

If I do not feel your lips on me,
I struggle to know what to offer.
When I’m reduced to bones,
may you feed from my coffer?

You kissed the palm of my hand;
I knew the truth:
I was a pomegranate, velvet
and bleeding for you.
That I would crack and peel myself open
and have you devour me whole.

Is there blood or juice running down my shoulder
when you kiss it?
May there be art beneath the blood that’s laid.
Too explicit.
If our positions were changed, would you be afraid?

When you nip at my collar,
and I pull you closer, do you laugh?
You should know you’re the cause—
you, who waited to do this.
Did I figure out the secret
behind your sweet scent
and claret lip gloss?

As you bite into my neck,
Do you sense my pain?
Do you mistake it for pleasure?
Maybe between?
If the way I leaned into your hands
as you gripped me means—
that you’ll continue, then where must you go next?

Do I get to see you reach into my chest?
Will the juice run down me too?
If you eat your way between my ribs,
is it my heart that’ll satisfy you?

Does hunger end when my eyes close?
Or maybe when you bite into the beating flesh?
Never will my soul see its fate
stored in your pyxis and stash.

I had a dream you ate me.

It wasn’t a nightmare; it was real.

You ate me as I—

promised to peel your pomegranate.

The Wrath of a Spider 

By: Elizabeth May

Freshman, Writing Major

I froze, my eyes locked onto its many. 

I had already evicted Lenny, this must be Jenny. 

Eight long legs spread across the floor. 

I didn’t feel like showing this one the door. 

With slow movements, I grabbed a book, 

As she inched back into a nook. 

I did not want this spider

 And so I would strike her. 

“Get out of my home. 

You are not free to roam. 

I don’t want you in my bed. 

I don’t even want you in my shed.” 

Once she was flattened, 

I was puzzled on what had happened. 

From under the book came a swarm. 

Thousands of baby spiders came at me in a storm. 

Had I known this was how it would end, 

I would’ve been a friend. 

Her children wanted revenge, 

And I let them avenge. 

“This is your home. 

You are free to roam. 

You can have the bed. 

I’ll stay in the shed.”

Her Heart Is Her Sword 

By: Sheyla Mulavdic

Senior, Psychology Major

Run soldier run 

Move fast, grab your gun 

This is the life you choose 

One wrong move, you could lose 

Everything… it's victory or failure, love or loss 

Each step you take forward makes a path you’ll cross 

Will you lie in the ground, lifeless and inert? 

Or will you fight in crimson, and brush off the dirt? 

To give away yourself, body, mind, and soul 

In hopes of gluing back the pieces, that once made you whole 

And you once laughed, and you once sobbed 

I remember those eyes before you were robbed 

Of your pleasure and passion, where your blood stain 

Was a sign of courage, your death not in vain 

Yet the soldier will fight, all that she threw 

Took form when the blade she finally drew 

The valiant soldier rushed into the embers of dawn 

For she is not a slave, a prod, or a pawn 

But a human whose wounds will always have meaning 

With a brave heart that stood before the enemies leaning 

Into the trash of the battle 

But she is not sheep, she is not cattle 

The flames of her spirit will burn through the metal cage 

That imprisons her exuberance, her vehemence, her rage

I Thumb My Nose At You

By: Justin Stasio-Palumbo

Senior, Criminal Justice Major

 Something strange is afoot I can just smell it,

People stop and point at my face like I have a giant zit.

“Look at that Honker!”

“What a Schnoz!”

“Big NOSferatu!”

Like I am supposed to know what the heck any of that might mean.

I ain’t a clown, or a vampire of any kind, and I ain’t too keen,

On people judging me everywhere I go for no good reason.

Maybe you all should embrace some goodwill before the holiday season!

Look in the mirror before having something nasty to say!

I would myself, but this big ass nose gets in the way.