The Royal Crest Winter 2023
Attending Members Editing and Layout Advisor - Patricia Pinto Paper Printer - Angela Graci, UDHS Principal - Matthew Alloway The Royal Crest is produced by the students and faculty of Upper Darby High School 601 North Lansdowne Avenue Drexel Hill, PA 19026 Member Grade Years of service Halah Ali grade 12 third Faiza Ansari grade 12 fourth Umme Bithy grade 11 first Reham Bouzid grade 12 second Mello Burks grade 9 first Chino Burrell grade 12 second Annmarie DeFranca grade 11 first Gabriella DeFranca grade 9 first Abrar Laskar grade 12 second Christian Marcano grade 9 first Mu’aadh Newton grade 10 first Thao Ngo grade 12 second Mustalifa Promi grade 11 first Richia Tabassum grade 11 first Saleena Wilson grade 12 first Front artwork by Kylie Jackson
Upper Darby High School Drexel Hill, Pennsylvania Winter 2023 - Vol 45, No. 1
Gratitude You have gratitude when you’re thankful with whatever you’re given Anything that you receive, you’re still happy and show gratitude Because it’s not about the magnitude of the gift, But the showcase of your attitude - Thao Ngo
Mine - Abrar A molecule and atom things I can’t fathom Bacteria and particles Things I can’t see A giant, a hero, Things I can’t be My feet and my eyes Things wrong with me
♻ Recycling ♻ I don’t want to be someone replaceable, reusable, or recyclable. I’m not trash, but I always get thrown away easily. I’m not glass, but I’m way too fragile. I'm not a paper, but people write all over me. I’m not a soda can, but I have many dents and scars. I’m not like plastic, but I’m very hard to get rid of sometimes. To be more exact. I’m more like someones litter, Thrown to the side until I catch someone else’s attention. Not knowing what to do with me or how to deal with that mess, They pass me on to the next person, And the next… and the next. Trying me on when it’s convenient for them, Leaving me in the dust to rot because they don’t see me as a part of their lives. I’m not recycling, but I’m in my own cycle. Getting used, thrown out. Getting hurt. Finding someone new, hoping they're better. But it’s the same thing. Maybe I’m the problem. Maybe I’m just someone’s litter.
Lost and Found - Abrar There it is. Problems of the world looking at me right in the eye Maybe that’s all that it is I. Focusing on you and everything else that I can’t seem to find Thoughts about you and everyone else on my mind Memories are scattered left for me to put together Heavy is the world that is masked as a feather Letting go of the strings sets all the balloon I may have lost you but at least I found me
Life is cruel but it’s beautiful Richia Tabassum ♡ We look to the sun for its warmth and passion. We look to the moon for its beauty and comfort. We to the sky for hope. We look to the stars with longing. The sun can burn us. The moon can abandon us. The sky can put us into despair. The stars can crush us. We do the same to each other. I sometimes believe humans are reflections of the sun, moon, sky and stars. We all live life and are sometimes victims of it. We’re all the same.
Good Things, Bad Things When life does bother you Think about the good things instead Whenever you feel sad or angry Think about the good things that’ll come ahead If despair overcomes you, then I’m not sure After years of endurance You’re probably tired to the core Or don’t want to try anymore For bad things to exist There’ll also be good things Keep trying your best And find some good friends Join a nice group Or work on your dreams Train your mind so that it’s smart and strong And your heart, so that it’s kind and beautiful And have hope That you’ll walk towards a brighter future -Thao Ngo
Unvarying Vocals - Christian I hear your voice constantly in my head It’s been crowding my mind even when i'm in bed Especially when i'm not feeling very confident I hear you again and again and again You do nothing but tell me the same story When you did nothing but ignore me I didn’t deserve you nor the glory And how we could have been together if it wasn’t for me You are nothing but a figment of my imagination An exaggeration of haunting information A constant reminder of my failure at communication A crude way of alerting me of my romantic isolation You do nothing in my head but draw horrible illustrations And start up depressing conversations I’ve heard enough about of our separation It’s about time we discontinued this lovesick collaboration
Annmarie De Franca Photo by: Khalid Doulat The Hallway Chameleon Everyday I walk amongst the same people in the same halls. Like a chameleon , almost invisible to those around me. They never notice my new haircut, or the shirt that compliments my eyes so well. Or the one day ,once a year, when my smile is the brightest it has ever been. However, they notice silly things. They notice silly rumors , And silly statements made by others, But i just wished they noticed me.
Fairy Land Fall Mustalifa Promi Fall is the time for leaves to change Fall is the time for magic to rain With colors falling everywhere Warm aromas in the air Red, yellow, orange, brown The festive season has come around Apple, pumpkin, and cherry pies Sends the warm loving vibes But with fall comes a brand new time A new time for students to strive Back to school students go Learning new things to expand their world Fall is a season for a new start Old leaves break off and fall apart New leaves come with a new beginning Indicating that its a fresh new start of winning Fall is the season of warmth and joy With many new challenges to see as toy
Annmarie DeFranca The wind-chime woman I love wind chimes. They remind me of old little women sitting on their porches; With such an aura that matched the color of Their ‘dreamy garnet’ lipstick. They whisper tales of hidden pixies And of song so elegant it matches her Chamomile tea She rocks in her chair as she knits, Enjoying every sway it makes Reminiscing of what could have been, Too distracted by the euphoric peal of it.
Blanket Heart By Mello Burks Mother dear mother wrap me up In Mother’s blanket heart Take me across the ocean Rest me against the waves Rocking me back and forth Let me rock away in your Blanket Heart Mother the ocean is cold And the sun is burning So protect me with your Blanket Heart. The moon spoke to me once, He said, “dear don't cry.” his light faded once more So wrap me up, dear Mother Love me with your Blanket Heart Mother your blanket has holes The cold is seeping through Mother, where is my blanket heart? I wish I could wrap you too But for my heart is just a cloth.
Annmarie De Franca Heart shaped stamps and lilac ribbons Everyday i write myself letters, Ones with little heart shaped stamps because I’m a sucker for them. I use cursive because i think it’s pretty, And words to remind me to smile. I put them in the floorboard of my room, so That in the future i’ll remember.. I’ll remember every moment i lived life in the life before; And to appreciate how much i’ve grown in my years today. And a beautiful cycle forms so that i can stack Each letter to add to my life Each letter perfectly tied with a lilac ribbon Because i know that’s what i liked.
Eternity A poem by Mello Burks One's life is a short videotape time moves forward As skin thickens and is marked with memories Mind crumbles down as if it were a crisp leaf in the fall But if I rewind that tape I can still recall The pellucid sky As the sun hit the pavement While I rode down the lengthy street Or perhaps one's life is more like a blank paper Where only one can write their mistakes Their truths And lies And once the cold water hits the paper Those stories fade away For my mind is as blank As that paper once was.
Annmarie DeFranca The lonely strums of my bass guitar There’s honestly nothing better than keeping my own company, I hum naturally to made up jazz, I use memories and dreams as my personal tv And leave open ended dialogues to return to when i’m lonely. I plug my earphones in when i’m tired of the world and it’s creatures And fade away as the bass guitar starts playing. With every strum, making far more sense than english itself. And can leave me with emotions better than Anything in this universe can give me.. Happiness, sadness, nostalgia,disgust,anger.. And then i’m back to being lonely.
Annmarie De Franca Sounds of the bus signals It’s five am and i’m at the bus stop. Patiently waiting for number 21 to show up. As usual, i’m unpunctual and there’s still Mascara from two days ago, smudged down my cheek. My lips are still dry and i would kill to be sipping on a latte right now. I’m irritated. My earphones are too tangled so there goes my morning audiobook. I looked down and noticed that i’m wearing Different socks so there goes my pride. And my braids are incomplete because i fell asleep halfway through it. I’m exhausted. But there’s something about the silence of the early crew. A certain peace of their slumber, That makes me forget my worries. That one minute the whole world blacks out, And there’s only me and the sounds of the bus signals in harmony.
Photo by: Delaney Hecksher
Photo by Megan Bradley
Carnation by Chino The tepid rain floods down my petals. A bloom of white and silver Collide with the blue rain My innocence My purity They flourish beside me as the weather settles. quickly. My petals change overnight. Refusal. Rejection. From silver and white to harsh yellow stripes. Disappointment. Disdain. Raise my petals to hide my stigma from pain. quietly. Again, like a chameleon From yellow stripes to solid red. Aches in my heart In my head Stains in my stem From where I bled. quaintly. Once more, I’ve change. From red to pink. I’ll miss you. I think. Before I go into a slumber Once more, I want to remember. Love. My time is up. A once pink but now black carnation. My feelings will be long lost Thrown into the sea of damnation. Finally, my corolla withers away As the tepid rain flood down my petals~
Ashes Against the Tide by Chino Leaves as golden as the sparks in this blaze. Your feathers set aflame but you don’t seem fazed. Is it because the stars have caught your gaze? Or maybe, like your memories, your senses are hazed? The sky as blue as the sea in your eyes. Your fur cold to touch though I’m not surprised. A sound, from the bird, as she took to the skies. Now you have to chase her until sunrise. After all this time that I’ve spent aside I still feel like I haven’t tried Enough, for you both, lost and revived. The least I can do is spread Ashes against the Tide.
Amor Vincit Omnia Richia Tabassum ♡ We memorize the sound of each others footsteps. We reassure each other through our eyes, warmly hold hands, and give tender embraces. We love each others body, reflection, shadow, and soul with all its flaws. Our hearts remember each others presence and make a melody of beats. We know we're doomed in the end, yet we still proclaim "I’ll love you forever.” We attempt to immortalize each other through various forms of art. Our love is imbued within our bones. We are able to evoke the ugliest emotions but the rawest smiles too. In each others presence, we crumple from the exhaustion of this life. We'll bear a deep bond of understanding and tenderly soothe one another; we’ll save each other. Amor vincit omnia.
Anglo-Saxon Riddle Silver strings bent at small curves. Back and forth, it dances and twirls on paste, It’s slim-like rods overlapped on its nib. Thao Ngo It’s a wisk.
What to do with my hands Richia Tabassum ♡ I’m never sure what to do with my hands. My hands are constantly shaky, for I’m always expecting life itself to materialize with its grand hands and throw me into a labyrinth. People tell me it’s all in my head. To bring me solace, I look at the idyllic moon from my bed. These hands of mine never provide anyone comfort; I’ve never tried. Most of the time, they fumble with the fabric of my clothing or tap a pencil onto a desk. My hands constantly create pools of sweat as for I always fret. I must not forget, that everything can slip away so easily. Life is ephemeral. My hands can’t create much because I’m afraid it won’t be good enough. Afterall, I’m fragile but rough. My mother's hands are soft and beautifully adept in the labor of love. I haven't inherited much from them, but I can learn. It's a mundane Sunday right now; I can't change much. I was always told there will be such. What is such? The time to live a life filled with mistakes I better myself with. I think, for now, I'll build the courage to lock my hands with yours.
Her A poem by Mello Burks She dances gracefully, Her pink gown flowing behind her, And she drags you along Trying to bring you down And yet you keep your distance In fear of disturbing her beauty If she has a heart, It must be sewn deep within her dress Each layer used as protection For she can't cry As her tears blend in with the blue walls. She takes her time, Letting the vibrations sway her away, The crowd dressed in green eats her every move Allowing her essence to linger In Memory She dances alone for years The dress has torn and withered As she finally stops And waits for the music to play once more. Now you can finally hold her, For her spark has worn out And she rests on the warmth Of the crystal dirt.
Marie Baldwin The bump in the road didn’t cause me to stumble. The lack of direction did.
Sorrow drenched angler fish A poem by Mello Burks I feel like I owe you something But I can’t send the message to your heart You’re guiding hands that cradled the fire In the chattering cold Are heavy pulling on your soul Where will your light guide me Will I sink further into your ashes? I wore my skin proud that day The light that shined was warming the concrete And the hands that cradled me were thinner Less calloused, and less wise. The suffocating jaws of time trapped me Your hands of time had stopped too. And yet I warm these clean sheets Desperately waiting for your warmth And I sit in this dark room, Begging for your light to burn my tears.
Rajkumary Das
Ceramic Plates A poem by Mello Burks The food that was prepared with Slow dances in between, Cheek kisses, and long prayers. The hearts of a family scattered on each plate, Topped off with lovely garnishes. And each bite was worth it. Hearts that were placed onto each plate, As it shattered onto the floors, Love that was prepared with heavy hands, And purple bruises. Children gawk at the plates, Not wanting to digest their emotions, And now the family love isn’t as valuable, Dinners are spent alone in rooms.
Haiku - Mom Mom always knows best But sometimes she can be wrong I’d like to object -Thao Ngo
The Seasons of Appreciation Appreciation turns to spring, summer, and fall When I once admired winter above them all The cold season that I used to endure In there, there’s hardly enjoyment anymore Freezing climates and cold fingers Frequent sickness and small sniffles Many things more in the coldness of winter However, I bask in the sunlight of warmer weathers And feel the soothing breeze of an autumn’s day, The nostalgic of summer’s rays, And see spring’s splendid colors arrayed In the end, I don’t hate winter at all I guess I just miss the feeling of Spring, summer, and fall -Thao Ngo
Photo by - Sheron Amjad If a leaf falls Is it lonely Or is it going to a better place?
Jayden Richards
Poetry Slam Contest Informational meeting On Thursday, April 14 In room 112 2:50 - 3:15 You must be present for the competition On Saturday,April 29, 2023 During the Arts Festival