Leah Cashin / 12 (BARE staff) Stars lay spread out in the night sky. They hang there, a work of art; they live. They are bright shards of...

By Alana Sayat ​ Albert laughed, looking up at the bloodied sunset. “Hell of a Tuesday, eh?” he said, looking around at the men. They...

By Hannah Myers, '23. It’s interesting how You never see the same sunset twice I like forget other people Exist in my world too I like to...

By Jane Doe. My Conifer yearns for love, just like anybody else. She'd fall head over heels everyday for her unadmitting, golden...

By Alea Ramsey, '23. She wore her scars like wings This life has hurt her with no regret. This world has changed her into someone new....

By Joy Ku, '21. Sun went missing in the sky The shadows did retreat Raindrops dripping, dripping by The rushing hoard of feet Songbirds...

By Sarah Short, '23. To the Blue Jay that perches upon my backyard fence, you are the naïve portrait of my solitude in all of its glory....

By Nora Diday. We sit on thin wooden chairs facing a crucifix. The song echoing through the hall smells like loss to the four of us,...

By Alana Becker, '22. Gazing at me with an empty stare she calls out my feelings like no one has. The one who lost her breath spitting...

By Anonymous, '21. It's a simple path to my clandestine cave, (Even if the ghostly ken will it unpave). Just don't forget to cover the...

By Cato Weisberg. Today is the day our planet dies. You sit on your back porch with a hand in your hand solemnly thinking of all that...

By anonymous. It stretches black into the distance, the dotted lines mark the path follow the white lines, follow the white lines before...

By Cato Weisberg. My finger hits the “send” button and instantly a world of possibilities comes into focus -- 10,000,000,000...

By: Anna Dunsizer I find myself gliding over an ochre sky With the wind rushing past me, flying, falling. With the salty smell of the...

By: Alex Leali Sitting in his chair, the stone observes his surroundings. The mahogany chair is wet and waterlogged and the cushions are...

By: Gywneth Bessey '22 ​ The dirt reminded everyone of coffee grounds. Fine, loose, spacious. Perennials once grew there. The bed has...

By Mia Doron '23 As the lanky businessmen hurried along the shaded sidewalk, the dreaded, obnoxious voices of young children rang out...

by Joshua Cable '22 The social outcome is obscure With that the teachers have endured The exotic sunset of our days Have written...

by Olivia Chohan '20 On May 22nd you grew two feathery wings. We were clueless, far away, safe, dry. There were seeds of hope but they...