Each work that follows was created by a current St.Luke's Student. The works below include poetry, prose, essays, paintings, photography and various other doodles.



By Cate Matthews (Inspired by Emily Dickinson)

I stood- unburied in the Snow

A Gown of glinting ice.

The sun rose up -White limbs fell down

And neighbors passed me twice.

I stood quite still to see them sing.

The ground began to melt 

As songbirds turned their call True North

And Emerald burned my eyes.

Great plows and steeds- have tried to move

But none could bear my Weight.

The tears of Time - with her Pale eyes

Are all that wear me blank.

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The Scream - Ned Cunniffe

The ghostly man wavers in the wind 

His screams are carried across the hills

They echo into the small village 

Nobody can hear his screams 

The sound falls to the river and is carried downstream

Painting by Samantha Schwartz (Painting on Canvas)


On the Move- Jack Laibe

Jenna Volpitta: Portrait in Blue
Moli Ma: Hanna
Brody Menzies: Anna in the Red Coat


By Lily Tencic

Drawing by Anna Raleigh - 'Scorpion Grass'




Grace McKessy

One day Brenda passed her husband’s favorite bakery and decided she would stop in and get his favorite dessert, oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. Looking through the glass she saw her husband on a date with another woman. That night she didn’t say anything but instead baked him homemade oatmeal raisin cookies.


Alexa Feldman

Everyday he walks five to ten dogs. He’s the guy your cousin's wife recommended when you were looking for someone to take Scout outside during the work day. Everyone knows the dog walker. Friendly man always takes good care of the dogs. Well, at least that’s what you thought.


Lea Panagiotidis

Nick was infatuated with someone. She seemed perfect to him, but flawed to others. The sight of her lit up his face, and filled his stomach with butterflies. It was a true love story, until college became a thing, and she left with no hesitation.


Heat Wave - Aida Nahas

Droplets of sticky sweat

Rolling down her neck

She opened the window 

Desperate for refreshing outside air

The heat is excruciating

Dry and deadly 

A cool popsicle might do the trick

Or maybe ice cold water

A fan at high speed might help 

But nothing can truly stop the heat

 ("Lemons" by Moli Ma (Oil on Canvas)

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Jake Kavan

I saw a Mirror on the wall--

Then walked up to its frame

An Image I wished not to see

Erupted into flames

It pierced my eyes cut through my mind

The darkness in my head

Flew out went on and told more souls

To my surprise and dread

For I believed in secrets with

A Friend whom I could trust 

But like the rest of those I knew

My Friend began to Rust

(photograph by Abbey O'Meara)

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By Blake Haden

(Photograph by Annabelle Santucci)


Click on the Works Below to Expand

American Gothic 2.0


Pierce Leclerc

i close my eyes

and then i see you again,

clear as day,

beautiful as the night

you laid your hair back

and we danced like satellites

around the earth

watching the lights of new york

hide one by one

while the lights of taiwan

tasted the morning air

after a long night’s rest

and soon i’m back again

eyes open

but a little dizzy

from the vertigo

(Image: Brody Menzies)

Jenna Volpitta Portrait with Closed Eyes

Asleep or Merely Dreaming - (Emilia von Lilien-Brockmeyer)

She, who was born to be beloved by the strokes of a paintbrush,

Lay silent in a room heavy with the smell of pomegranate and fig,

Her face dusted with the pale vestige of a fragile euphoria.

The shards of notoriety will soon draw blood,

But she will be fluttering with nymphs and feasting

on honeycomb dripping from sylvan flames.

A Creature grotesque sits heavy on her soft stomach,

A Thing of deplorable peculiarity.

It soaks in the impurities she holds to her breast,

Savoring the delicate flavor of a life unlived.

The curtain behind her blankets a rancid black steed,

With bulging white eyes, a feast for famished flies.

“Better luck next time,” he said with a grin,

But with deaf ears she could not hear the din.

The two harvesters stand shadowed,

The rotten figment of a mind so young,

A girl who sipped on ambrosia, but fed on the thoughts of inevitable sleep.

In her room lurks a languishing dissonance with idle hands.

It will devour her starlit corpse soon.

(Painting: Portrait with Closed Eyes - Jenna Volpitta)


A response to the prompt: "You find a note in an abandoned house. What does it say?" - (Lucas Manocherian)

I’m in an abandoned building. There is a piece of paper on the floor. Why am I in the building you ask. Mind your own business. Aren’t all buildings technically abandoned? We are all just dead people living. Think about it. I mean there is air in a building. The only thing that is really abandoned is your ability to pick a winner for this contest cuz as far as i’m concerned, I didn't win.

I want 1500 dollars. I need to get rid of my wants. That is how I will achieve enlightenment and find Nirvana. Anyways I pick up the paper. I turn it over. The bright green text is shining in my face. This isn’t normal, I think. Might as well put this down. Paper isn’t supposed to glow green. I’m not supposed to win this contest. Especially with the fake name I picked. So I put the paper down. And then I pick it up again. I am a teenager. I don’t do rational things. How do you think I ended up in an abandoned building in the first place? This piece of paper is pretty interesting. Hopefully you think that the piece of paper you are reading this on right now is pretty interesting cuz I want 1500 dollars. Oh wait, you are probably reading this digitally. But not on a phone. If you are reading this on a phone then you get a detention…. I mean community rebuilding  block. Computers are okay, people visiting the school love computers. This green piece of paper has text on it. The text has words. I am not in the right state of mind to read these words. Why do you think I’m in an abandoned building? Anyway I wait around until I am in the right state of mind to read the words. The walls in the building are well done. The architect must have been pretty talented. Shame no one liked his building. I read the paper. The words are “Enter to learn, go forth to serve.” These words belong on the building of a private school in a wealthy town in the Northeast. Not some abandoned building. I need to throw this out. There are no garbages here. I could recycle. I heard once that the mob owns the recycling business so it’s prolly gonna end up in the ocean anyway. Better not think about it. If you don’t want to end up in the ocean pick my paper to win. JUST KIDDING. The previous statement was a joke and is not eligible to be used in a court of law because of that. Anyway, I entered the building hoping to learn something. I learned a lot. But I still know nothing. The only thing I know is that I know nothing. Nevermind, I think I know I won’t win this contest. Especially after this ramble. Anyways, the moral of this story is don’t end up in abandoned buildings and you won’t have to read. Reading sucks. Hopefully reading this doesn’t suck. I want 1500 dollars. Then I can really go forth and serve……….

PS I didn’t have time to edit this… Take that into account when picking a winner. Everyone else prolly edited.


Claire Watson (Photograph)

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Emma Scanlan

My purple baby blanket,

The one wrapped up in a box for safe keeping

Because that is, of course, something people need to keep.

The blanket you can’t remember dragging behind you everywhere you went,

Though that’s what the stories and photos say happened

The blanket you now believe saw everything you saw.

The blanket you can’t remember having draped in your lap on every car ride

Because that stopped the crying when you didn’t want to go somewhere

The blanket you now assume kept you calm as you were taken from place to place.

The blanket you can’t remember snuggling up with every night for bed

But you know you must have, for how else would you have fallen asleep?

The blanket you remember putting away, for you were too old to need it to fall asleep anymore.

So why do we keep these little childhood knick knacks?

We don’t really need them, we aren’t kids anymore

But I guess we do need them, to remember the time we were.

(Image- "Midnight" by Abbey O'Meara)



Story by Margaret Gregorich

A Mannequin's View
At The Boardwalk

let love be the reason you do what you do - Quinn Gregorich

let love be the reason you do what you do

fall down in sun-baked dirt and kick off your shoes

wiggle your toes and stretch out in the grass

for troubles will come, but they’ll always pass.

feel the fireworks echo proudly in your chest

close your eyes knowing you did your level best

and when you wake up, Love, sigh with relief

for there is no solace without profound grief.

rise gently each morn with daylight on your face

greet each of your neighbors with kind words and grace

believe in others fiercely without a shadow of a doubt

for everyone’s fighting a war you know nothing about.

let love be the reason you do what you do

because if you don’t, you’re a goddamn fool

savor every particle of the air that you breathe

for your life may be simple, but it’s far from complete.

(Drawing by Emilia von Lilien-Brockmeyer)