The Wellesley Review

Below are the wonderful poems that we decided to feature online!

Compilations of April

I:
sunlight trickles through my window,
caressing the leaves of the ivy on the sill
I imagine they are long awaited lovers
and April is their wild embrace
crystal light seeping through thick walled cells
a collision too long withheld by winter
II:
this will be a month of contradictions
I feel it in stretching of the daisy buds
buried in the mud, tentatively blooming
not yet knowing if the last frost has passed overhead
it seems in the thaw that everything is in motion
and yet still frozen in place
III:
I contemplate the meaning of home
if it is where one builds and rests their heart
than I am like a stone in a river
fragmented and worn,
forming pools in the shadows of huddled birch trees
and then slipping away

Marley Forest

On Writing Poetry
We write poems to exist,
The tap of the reverberation of words exiting the mind reveal that
I exist, that there are things happening inside of me, pouring out,
That I am not a figment of my imagination but that my imagination is
My figment- that I can escape five whole years of uncertainty
And be certain within the moment that I will, that I can try,
To meditate upon what has been meditating me.

Karina Ithier

Body Thoughts

I
To the teen who’s worried about their weight
I’m fat.
You don’t have to say I’m not,
Or it’s not that bad,
Or that I’m average.
It’s not a self put down,
It’s a description.
It’s how I look
And how I am.
Fat doesn’t counteract beauty.
It doesn’t disqualify you from being beautiful.
The people who tell you that are lying
And probably trying to sell you something.
I have nice eyes
And full lips
And an all around pretty face.
My body isn’t perfect.
I have flaws,
And weight isn’t the only one.
But I’m still beautiful
And I’m still ok
And you will be too

II
I don’t like mirrors.
They shout to me my imperfections.
They tell me my hair is a mess
And my face is oily
Or that my dress is wrinkled
And I look fat in it.

I want to be in a world with no mirrors,
Just beings.
I just want to be
I want to be left alone to exist
In my own bubble
Free from expectations of beauty
I want to be judged for my talents
And loved for who I am.
I don’t want appearances to alter that.
I don’t want a mirror to tell me I’m worth less.

III
An ode to my body
Like just about everyone,
I hate my body.
I wish I could change everything about it.
Some things are too big,
Some things are too small,
and some things feel just wrong.
But still,
This is the only body I get.
My feet take me around campus.
My legs bring me up all the stairs.
My torso holds all of the important internal pieces of me.
My arms carry my books so I can learn.
My hands hold my pen so I can write.
My head has my brain,
So I guess that’s where the real me is.
So to my body,
I’m sorry for the times I’ve hurt you,
Or neglected you,

Or straight up abused you.
You keep me going.
Literally.
So I wish you well,
And I look forward to our continued partnership.

Sarah Young

These Boots are My Super Power

These boots are my super power:
With them I am
Invincible,
Puddles not poised for fear
But for
Bold splashing,
Running through rivers,
And ponds are merely playthings.

Sydney Hopper

Elegy for Nuestra Señora la Reina

After Andy Warhol

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