Aerie Journal

  • University of Hartford's Literary Magazine
  • |
  • June 24, 2017

Contest

Please check back for information about contests for the fall 2016-2017 year. More information about contests will also be available at Submit your Work.

 


 

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If you wish to support Aerie Literary Journal and wish to see bigger and better editions in the future, please consider donating to the Aerie endowment! To make a donation, contact the Office of Institutional Advancement, Caitlin Simard, at 860-768-2452. Or Aeries faculty advisor, Ben Grossberg, at 860-768-4944. We greatly appreciate your support!

Past Archives

Submissions From Aerie 2009


As a child
Ellen Skoczenski                                  

As a child
My walking commute took me past
The white house on the hill
It used to jut out
Pregnant with mystery
Staking claim in my imagination–
Glass panes sagging
Under the slow weight of time
Trinkets in the windows
Like small conversations
The people inside, with colorful scarves
Dusty, whimsical smiles
Gypsy secrets.
But now,
Like a skeleton key to my curiosity
The truth has been gutted. Exposed.
Raw on the front lawn.
And the old white house writhes
As it's tossed carelessly
To the steel waste basket
Digging its nails into the earth.

 


General Pronouncement
Krista LaBella

Drowning is a peaceful way to die.
I realize I eulogize it often
and no, I am not wishing
for the sea to take me
yet
or ever–

But
they say, as
the bubbles form,
and your last breath's escaping
into the vast expanse of
teal light,
your eyes open, vision obscured
by the tide
and offense of salt
and the light from above is a
heavenly, yellow aura
embracing you,
ready for the immortal world
in which you
drift beneath the surface
until
the light captures you
in its net
before your mind goes blank
and you wake up with
Jane Austin and T.S. Eliot,
writing poetry about floating helplessly
cradled in the teal light
of the ebbing tide.
 


Apples, an excerpt
Julie Falcone

    I knew the linoleum-tiled hallways and cinder block walls already. They echoed memories of middle school that I never thought I'd have to revisit. As I walked towards my assigned classroom, I felt the lockers shooting me glances much like those that I recieved from popular girls in my class. I saw Judy Pickett's face in the florescent light that flickered at the end of the hallway. The bulletin boards held the same deep red as Martha Bloom's favorite sweater. I was already nervous for my first day of teaching seventh grade English, but up until that point, I felt I was prepared. It was in these few minutes before the students started to arrive that my anexiety finally began to set in.
    When the first bell rang, twenty-one unfamiliar faces filed into my classroom. I took a deep breath as I watched the students exchange hugs and exciting news from their summer apart. I cleared my throat, attempting to grab their attention. One girl, with beautiful blonde hair that reached the top of her skin-tight blue jeans, looked at me. She made eye contact for a second, and jumped right back into her conversation. None of the other students even acted as if they noticed me standing in front of the classroom. I leaned against the chalkboard, taking in the scene and attempting to collect my thoughts.
    [. . .]

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Events

Check back later for more information on our fall 2016 events.  We expect to be advertising an Open-Mic Event very soon!