top of page

Xanadu Poetry

Student Poetry

To find archived or specific poems, search here!

A Lame Eclipse

Griffin Hamilton



But still as hyped as the apocalypse.

Like a sack of bricks, 

Useless as unwashed parsnips.


The thief of bliss,

Providing only temporary companionship.


No more than a minor blip,

I despise the Solar Eclipse.

Elana Davis

Featured Student Poets 

                      Congratulations Poets.
           Click Here to Read the Winning Pieces. 
         Thank you to the 150 poets who entered. 

From the Left: Kate O'Phelan, Lillian O'Phelan, Addison McCready,
Nicolas Guillermo, Steven Granados, Pip, Katie Mondry, Katy Valle and
Emma Lucana.

Notre Dame
Erika Moreira Tomasino

You’re so colorful,

but only when the sun shines.

You’re so admired,

but only during the daytime.

The sun is your best friend, 

for twelve hours only

until once again you’re lonely. 

You’re embroidered with beauty,

and every part of you tells a story.

But who will be there when you start to crack?

When your panes start to shatter and there's no looking back?

You won’t be put together, no one will help fix.

You’ll be laying on the concrete waiting to be replaced.

Once worshiped, now tarnished,

broken glass has no place, 

on these cathedral walls.

When Andrew Walks In
Sophia Hassman

Still the room

at the cost of the unarrived.


As breath appears, the world stops

followed by drained will—

pale pigments of fatality among the living. 


Is the timeless agony of endless 

torture worth inquiries of groovy material?


Perhaps not. 

Vile flashbacks of hurt corrode the mind,

insufferable babble pouring out from his smug mug.


The undesired mutters wheeze unwanted.

Brennan Thompson

By  Brennan Thompson

Emma Lucana


when you cannot flower,

you learn how to cling.


unrelenting, i exist in moisture.


my shallow

roots make me seem easy

to discard—


but trust that i always return,



i'll beg to

consume you in

your hardened entirety,

my small leaves will carpet

every inch of life.


i'll find any reason to stay—

even through thin air.


though unwanted, i'll stain

bright green to prove my



i'm sorry

if i suffocate you in darkness—

for it is all i have ever known.


since i was never born to bloom,

i learned to resent the light.

Myles Kolar

By Myles Kolar


Elise Abbate

When I was three,

she stole my birthday.


When I was five, 

she’d snatch up all my favorite dolls to play with for herself.


When I was seven,

she ruined our chances of finishing any Mario Bros level because 

her little hands couldn’t press the buttons on the controller fast enough.


But I didn’t mind.


Because, in stealing my birthday, 

she herself became my favorite birthday gift.

Even though she’d take my dolls, 

she’d let me dress her up and play with her hair in return.

And her little hands couldn’t play Mario,

but were small enough to find and retrieve escaped puzzle pieces 

wedged under the low coffee table

to complete a wood spotted blue sky.


Emily Vilorio

Emily Vilorio

Katie Mondry


When I can not find you

and the house crumbles,

I will put down the spade.

I will abandon the brick 

and the mortar.

I will find your sweater—

of unraveled merino wool.

And I will pick up the needle.

And I will sit at the loom. 


Alexis Guarisco


Cork Board covered with pin holes

from dated information. Rotting

leaves bound to the fall ground. 


Muddy airforces worn down to the

sole. The bakeries freshly made 

cinnamon roll. 


The wasted Lincoln Logs lying 

opposite of the newly bought fluffy 

teddy bear ready to enjoy its new 



A freckled face seen on all ages. 

Crackled leather wallet in the back

right pocket of worn down jeans with 

pages of little photographs.

Art by Elana Davis


Alex Feliciano

In a room full of nothingness,

The battle of a million voices,

Is being fought.


It's a blister.

A Bitchy Burden.

A bloated mind. 


The clock is ticking,

In a hollow room.


All that is left to do,

Is self reflect.


I should’ve—

I could’ve—

Why did I—

What if it was a—


Passes through the mind,

As 5 minutes

Is taxed,

To ten years.


It would be worthless,

But If I had one wish, 

It would be

To block the noise.


I wish our heads stayed clear.


The only guarantee of silence,

Would be inside 

A cobwebbed coffin.


Where death,

conquers all thought.


Jack Fischer


For you, I’d be the graphite in your pencil.

Black smudged on your palm,

Back to when you engraved

Your first A, B’s and C’s with me.


Onto lined paper, blinding

White and silky, limitless in our potential.

The brick red shavings surround

Your cramping hand.

Spring 2023 Mondry
Katie Mondry

The Beginning of The End
Gavin Fisch


In the cockpit, a canvas of endless blue, 

Upon wings of wonder, the sky's embrace,

And where the sky meets the cowling with the

Whispers of adventure from the humming 



Her insides rumbling, almost like a 

Bad stomach ache, but she can still lift me up 

Like no one else could and bring me happiness I 

Thought that I could never have. 


Wings cutting through the sapphire sky,

My spirit surrendered to the splendid symphony 

Of a maiden flight.


In a silver chariot, through clouds we race but 

The clouds below, like a dangerous ball of 

Cotton candy, waiting to send me back down. 


The black and white runway, lights gleaming, 

Directing me to safety and to my future. 


Sarah Larice


Full of blank paper,

eager empty canvas waiting for the thoughts 

of the owner.


My thoughts that no one 

can see, a gathering place for thoughts I 

need to let out without the judgment 

of a community who hates

different ideas. 


The thread that holds the paper together— 

a bow holding the banquet of flowers

from falling apart.


Notebook covers made of leather and fabric

with a variety of colors, many options to pick and choose


Endless amount of pages to write with 

blue lines horizontally along.

as I write,

I smile.  

Madeleine Bas

By Madeleine Bas

Fighting Fears
Kate Pratt


I still remember the nights,

even if now they sometimes blur.

An occurrence that happened so often,

It feels like it only happened once.


I’d rise from my bed, 

the frame would creak.

Under messy hair,

tears would fall 

As I walk out of my room, 

into yours.


I would cry over it all,

for no purpose but fear.

And you’d say nice words,

teach me how to fight against it,

and urge me back to bed.

I’d return to my dark room calmer,

but I’d still be scared.


Now when it happens,

when my chest gets tight and the tears swell,

I simply breathe, and fight the way you taught.

A breath in, a breath out.

The fight ends in a draw.

Gin Rummy on Late Summer Nights 

Ava Tsolis 


You eagerly hopped out of the car and punched in the garage code, 

causing the door to protest with 

rattles and warped groans of old age before slowly operating. 

Up the stairs, you pulled the 52-card deck out of the kitchen cabinet. 


You shuffled and divided the deck — 

4 piles, 10 cards in each. 

You made a scoreboard on a napkin 

and wrote at the top, “first to 300 points wins.” 


With dripping hair — still wet from a day at Private Beach — 

and a store-bought cherry ice in hand, 

you yelled through the house that it was time to play, 

startling the Greenport deer munching on fallen apples in the lawn. 


Everyone gathered, and our turns rotated around the table, 

each player grabbing additional cards, 

forming sets of the same number 

or runs of the same suit. 


With every match, you saved the aces, 

hoping to reach a set of 3. 

Yet, by the end of the game, 

you were always 1 ace short. 

Aryaa Shah

By Aryaa Shah

Emelyn Morales

Emelyn Morales

Sharks & Minnows
Addison McCready


The sky bleeds

pink, orange

and blue.


Grass freshly

snipped by its



Hydrangeas, impatiens, tulips and daisies.

The gatekeepers of the forever poisonous

family secrets. 


Splashes and giggles

accompany the pollen

in the thick, moist air.


The baby blue bikini pulled and tightened,

my little body lost in the polka dotted 



Pleading to our elders we say,

Watch this guys!


The diving board,

our throne to the rotating monarchy. 


Clenching the pavement,

miniscule rocks embedded 

in my palms.


Legs swaying,

neck bobbing above

and below. 


Hair dancing on the surface,

fingers and toes pruned underneath.


Will they hear me? Can they see me?


Tiny lungs filling

with air.

Preparing for the

ear popping pressure.


The perfected act

of sliding swiftly along side

the perfectly paved 



Survival located ten feet



Screams or struggle,

to them what is 

a bubble. 


Arm stretched,

eyes assaulted by

the chemically curated 



The awaited attack—

the see-through surface 



Temporary King

attacking its opposition.


Fingers grazing the perimeter —

Free from vulnerability. 


A defenseless fish

in the sea,

snatched in the midst of

seeking safety. 


Heads penetrate the

liquid glass. 


Laughter and love 

from trees and children,

kissing the caves of my

big ears and button nose. 


I tagged you anyway. You’re it. 


Smiling in joy—

the baby of the 



Being the youngest,

I know you won’t want to play much longer.


I won the race,

I know I did.


Never to state a rebuttal,

not taking the risk to call it quits.


How my hand once gripped the cement,

my brain now with memory. 

Ariana Arambaru

Ariana Arambaru

Featured poem september
bottom of page