Arts and Humanities Commons^™

The Buttercup, Olivia Bardo

The Peregrine Review

Buried in the mud

The dark seemed natural.

Do you know what I was?

Early light.

Almost belief.

My Hands, Christine Bye

The Peregrine Review

My hands are always cold,

but not for lack of warmth

in the smithies of my soul.

Child's Play, Nicko Mcmillen

The Peregrine Review

A child playing with a racket in a well-manicured, nice yard.

Sunset, Nicole Serianni

The Peregrine Review

"It is time" a glowing sun announces with a smile.

"Are you sure?" says a dejected moon.

"Surely, she replies. When the last man gets off the train and you hear it's horn, that is my time, like it is every night. Have you since forgotten?"

"No" his reply is simple. The craters around his mouth grow as his silver lips upturn in a regretful smile.

What Do The Mountains Say, Christiana Martin

The Peregrine Review

It is a clear, windy morning when I walk to Hobart Bluff. I perch on a rock in the sun, hoping to find some relief from the cold in its light. While the wind buffets me on my sun-soaked rock, I see Mt. Ashland standing in its rusty-red glory, seemingly impervious to the pointed gusts. It’s hard to believe that even this mountain could be moved with but a touch of faith...

Growing Alone, Alexa Glatfelter

The Peregrine Review

how easily we let ourselves get entangled with another soul; that no matter how different their roots are, now the part where you’re planted feels like home.

and you never want to leave because that means unearthing all the moments that you’ve spent digging out the soil that once separated you; that means the depths of what you know have to go back to covered ground, for you no longer have access to the soil on which you loved knew.

I, Amelia Markey

The Peregrine Review

A photo of blurred city light, as if the camera was moving when the photo was taken.

Little Monster, Shanny Taylor

The Peregrine Review

I was once a wildling child

Dreaming about magic, and dragons in the hills-

I never found them. But I ran barefoot,

And skinned my summer-dusted knees,

Listened to cicadas sing, and saw fireflies light up gold.

The Storms Of Life, Gracie Hamman

The Peregrine Review

Over the rolling hills she glanced with an open heart

waiting for an answer—waiting for everything else to disappear.

The stormy skies took up her view from the edge of the porch to the plateau

where she so desperately wanted to be.

Happy, Janell Ryan

The Peregrine Review

She said,

“You look better, brighter than usual? Did you get some sleep?’

I laughed.

“Yeah, like five hours. Better than nothing.”

Small Sips, Small Bites, Courtney Smith

The Peregrine Review

“Small sips, small bites.”

This was my childhood mantra, echoing and rebounding in the recesses of my mind after I had repeated it to myself so often. I could only take small sips of drink and small bites of food because anything more would send my stomach reeling and my hands reaching for the bowl beside my bed. I would be left with an empty stomach, burning throat, and shaking hands.

Flash Fiction, Christiana Martin

The Peregrine Review

“Crunch: Lights Out”

When she closed her mouth, I chewed and swallowed my words like (so many) lightbulbs. Snap. Crackle. Pop.

“The Subtle Difference”

Best Friend: “I love you.” Not: in love.

Ten Things I Like About My Obnoxiously Italian Girlfriend, Meg Banning

The Peregrine Review

I like that she’s just like her grandma. I like that she bakes me bread to show her affection.

I like that she makes me playlists that include Mambo Italiano by Rosemary Clooney. I like that she doesn’t know a thing about beer, but knows her shit about wine.

When Your Summers, Hannah Desko

The Peregrine Review

Poem the begins:

I want to leave you, but how can I when your summers are so sweet—
when I know that honeysuckles share their sugary scent
every afternoon? Their sunshine-yellow flowers grin,
knowing their perfume’s descent will flirt with noses.
Their ethereal drops float on the balmy breeze, spraying Earth’s skin.

Mint Lifesavers, Nicole Serianni

The Peregrine Review

Over casual conversation my friend tells me that mint lifesavers were her favorite childhood candy,

and I agree.

over casual conversation I tell her that I connect them to childhood memories as well, and she agrees.

this is lighthearted conversation.

A Sestina, Madeline Spivey

The Peregrine Review

In clusters of floating sticks, underneath Orrs Bridge.

That’s where the foamy run-off

collects to escape the water’s rush.

It seems it has always been that way.

Before you go under, take a breath.

When I look out my kitchen window I can see the creek.

Escape, Clara Yu

The Peregrine Review

the rain bleeds together

in musical tandem;

the puddles form.

deep and dark, they lay

by the side of the road.

The Red Dirt Of M1, Micaiah Saldaña

The Peregrine Review

The nice words for a place like M1 are “juvenile detention center” or “remand home.” Those are its labels in Uganda. They are labels that sweep what M1 really is under a rug and present it nicely to anyone who might question its very existence. In truth, M1 ought to be called what it is: a prison for children. M1 is one of the places where children as young as two years old are dropped off by Ugandan police after routine “round-ups” and arrests for crimes that are more often than not petty. They are then left there until the …

Shadow House, Amelia Markey

The Peregrine Review

A photo of a piece of art with the words:

"The swing of the pendulum

unequalled euphoria

unpromising disappointment,

a sense of failure.

a certain lack of determination.

I improve hourly!

I weep!

I sleep."

Ode To The Girl With No Name, Will Labossiere

The Peregrine Review

i don’t know You. nor You me.

and yet i’m compelled nonetheless

Your aura is mesmerizing

Your aura is mesmerizing

i'm drawn in with every second You pass me by,

holding my breath and wishing You would stop.

In Praise Of Silence, Jacqueline Blasko

The Peregrine Review

I must confess that I despise snow. Snow makes me long for summer like nothing else. I cannot stand the hideous look of dirty, black, grimy snow piled in banks in parking lots. I hate clearing the stuff off my car.

In The Darkroom, Dakota Vaughn

The Peregrine Review

1

In the darkroom there’s this second world.

It’s yellow and there’s mostly girls

With a couple artsy, soft-type boys.

When there’s a lot of us we make lots of noise.

When it’s only me, I’m mostly silent.

If I’m lucky, sometimes

I’ll hear a violin

Floating in from some practice room.

Acceptance, Clara Yu

The Peregrine Review

the sky sees

its reflection in a puddle.

does the sky love itself?

do I?

Paint Me Again, Will Labossiere

The Peregrine Review

paint me again, o’ wise oak,

and let your umbrage shed its

leafy cloak upon me

with prismic spectral wash in billows deep and soft

Crossing, Nicko Mcmillen

The Peregrine Review

A photo showing an hunched, old man holding a bag and crossing the street (pictured in black and white.)