Creative Writing at The Buckley School
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We're Creative
Students at Buckley work hard academically, but given a chance show that they are NOT just high-achievers but are CREATIVE!
We learn the craft of writing
Creative writers study genres and write screenplays, poetry, spoken word poetry, short stories, and novels.
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growing (Paris B. ’13)Love doesn’t hurt like people have said.
This love is passionate and warm. It’s deeply rooted in my heart, seeming like it is never leaving. It is growing stronger and stronger. The roots growing and attaching taking over my heart. Growing and growing, The branches beginning to form And travel through my veins, Sprouting flowers all over my skin. I pick the petals, He loves me, He loves me not, But don’t finish, fearing what petal I finish on. He doesn’t know yet, How strong my feelings are. But I know there is something there, That could possibly last forever. |
Mirror, Mirror (Tyler S. ‘13)Mirror, Mirror on the wall
The last time I looked in you and liked what I saw Was when I was so little I said 4 like "faw" I don’t remember the exact day when I realized I wasn’t a princess But the day I did with God as my witness I believed it was true I believed I had no value Confidence sucked out of me, I’m looking around for Edward I ponder all my flaws and faults in what is now my bed/ward My mind became a prison The mirror my worst enemy Parents stare at this once sassy girl And wonder what had gotten in to me I can answer that with one word, Insecurity The mirror cheered me on Saying "Bash yourself, Hate yourself, You can do it!" So I bullied myself forcing my body to push through it Every girl hears the mirror whisper what they want so bad to be fake Every mirror works in the professional field of making girls heart break A hunger games of comparing ourselves to others, how we compete Ultimately ending in our personal defeat I let the mirror chain me to a pole with iron rings Providing me only with Vogue magazines So every day I wished to be someone that I wasn’t Never realizing that I’m a dime a dozen Never understanding that the mirror fed me lies I kept holding on to the day the mirrors nice But the other 364 days of the long year I was a slave to the master mirror So caught up in appearance Looking like a Barbie on clearance I never learned to love myself for the way I was made But now I am working at letting all the insecurity fade Mirror, Mirror, lording over the bathroom sink If I could be quite honest with you I don’t give 2 cents about what you think |
Remember Me (Madeline B. ’13)Remember me,
and the way I laughed at every word you said and the way I could and would tell you everything Remember me, and the way I held your hand for the first time and the way our hands fit together perfectly and the way that I would put our hands in your coat pocket when I was cold and remember me for all the times I told you it would be okay, and the way you agreed even though sometimes, many times, we both knew that it may not be true but still, remember me and the way I would lay on your chest and look up at you right before I fell asleep and the way that I would still be there in the morning Remember the way that I fell for you because I liked who I was with you Remember the me that I was when I was with you I’ll remember you, so remember this about me it was the way I loved the little things and the way the way the little things allowed me to see the big things I’ll remember you and the way that you gave me the little things and the that way you were the big things I’ll remember the feeling of watching you walk away, and the feeling of when you didn’t come back and you were no longer there to take care of me All I ask is that you, Remember me |
Vain Prayer (Michael O. ’13)Hollow foresight no more mine,
Find me reason for these eyes, For these hands are bound firm with ties That drag my soul down Hell’s taut line. Polished logic shining fake, Find me reason for this tongue, For these eyes that are no more young Do blindly guide my soul to take. Righteous judgment bred to break, Find me reason for these ears, For this tongue tastes naught but cruel tears That drown my soul in Lord Death’s wake. Cleft memory I enshrine, I find no reason for this nose, And these ears hear murderous crows, That feast on my soul held divine. Hallowed heart since slain by cries Pray grant meaning for these lies, For if to sense my will complies Then, oh then, my jailed spirit dies. |
Admitted (Julianne G. ’13)
New York, Chicago, Miami or LA
Where do I even want to stay?
Before that choice, I must recall
The stack of apps that is much too tall
September, October and November all on hold
To write essays and supplements that must be bold
Tedious work, and barely any time for play
All I want is a finished essay
Second semester being such a tease
I wish I could put my nerves at ease
Black Polo
Finally a senior, it’s our last year
Ending a chapter of our life that is so dear
Being the oldest on campus at the end of the day
It’s our job to show the little ones the way
Responsibility and seniority at the top
It seems as if the pressure won’t ever stop
However, as we prepare to soar and go solo
It appears to us that the only change is the color of our uniform polo
Where do I even want to stay?
Before that choice, I must recall
The stack of apps that is much too tall
September, October and November all on hold
To write essays and supplements that must be bold
Tedious work, and barely any time for play
All I want is a finished essay
Second semester being such a tease
I wish I could put my nerves at ease
Black Polo
Finally a senior, it’s our last year
Ending a chapter of our life that is so dear
Being the oldest on campus at the end of the day
It’s our job to show the little ones the way
Responsibility and seniority at the top
It seems as if the pressure won’t ever stop
However, as we prepare to soar and go solo
It appears to us that the only change is the color of our uniform polo
