A Tradition of Excellence since 1657

Poetry Slam at Huntington High School

Sweet sounding and thought provoking verses filled the air in the Huntington High School library as a crowd of 50 turned out for the English Honor Society’s annual Poetry Slam.

Food and refreshments were on hand, but the crowd really came to hear poetry and there was plenty of that for everyone to appreciate. This marked the fifth year the annual event has been held and the run isn’t expected to end anytime soon.

English Honor Society faculty advisors Aimee Antorino and Bonnie Guarino coordinated the event with assistance from high school librarian Julie Miller. Ms. Miller and Ms. Guarino even shared poems to the delight of the crowd.

English Honor Society Vice President Sarah James organized this year’s Poetry Slam. Page Montecalvo served as master of ceremonies. About 25 poems were read aloud, including several in Spanish and Italian.

Huntington senior and accomplished guitarist, Dylan DelGiudice performed an acoustic selection that lifted the hearts and minds of the crowd.

Three of Huntington junior Sarah Grassi’s poems were read, including the following:

The Waterfall

You asked me what I would sit and draw.
You told me you meant something so pretty,
I’d want to capture its beauty.
So I sat and thought about it…
I’d like to paint a serene waterfall.
The kind that looks so beautiful,
You forget how dangerous it is.
I’d paint it within a forest
So mysterious and so vast,
It makes you forget there ever was a beginning
Or even an end.
I want the picture to be painted in such detail,
You can be well aware of the ever so small infinity
That is its beauty.
After I thought about this painting,
And the divine features that would exist in it,
I came across a simple,
And rather poetic realization.
This was just a metaphor for you,
And so I came to the conclusion
That drawing you was best.

My Favorite Story

Out of all the books in this store,
You are my favorite story.
You have plot twists galore.
You are so lovely,
I can promise even sonnets aren't that beautiful.
You are extraordinarily knowledgeable.
You are my own personal dictionary.
You are strong and dauntless.
You are more brave than the heroes
In the most wild Greek tragedies.
You are kind and gentle,
As if you’re character only has good intentions.
You are a combination of all great literary works,
But yet there is still so much more to you,
And I just need to keep reading.



How long does it take until it stops hurting?
Or does it really ever actually stop?
At first, it feels like it’s not even real.
Almost as if you’re involuntarily denying it.
Then, you mourn what it was
And you lament what could have been.
Your heart, or whatever you call what's left of it,
Has this broken, empty feeling to it.
Eventually, you become adjusted to it.
You finally stop the constant thoughts.
Next, you find someone else,
And you forget there ever even was anyone before
But then, some years later you hear a song…
And it hits you just as hard as it did originally.
Once again, you mourn the loss
And the possibility it once held.
So I guess it is always there,
And I guess it never really stops hurting.



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