The Raider Wire

They Say

 The clouds represent the calmness of the poem and the tone of the girl. (Photo from Pinterest)

Imogene Ragan, Staff Writer

December 3, 2019

She doesn’t exist they say, She will never exist they say, But she knows in her heart She will always exist. She’s crazy they say, She’ll always be crazy they say, And she knows she might be A little crazy. She doesn’t matter they say; She doesn’t need to matter they...

The Vessel

The ocean blue waves always seem to crash and collide into each other. Photo by Amareen Fatima.

Melody Scott, Staff Writer

November 15, 2019

Loving and hating;  laughing and crying;  relationships and disconnections;  these things make up the vessel of life.    This “vessel” as I call it  isn’t always the easiest ride.  The ocean blue waves around me seem to Always crash and collide,  Its white seaf...

Music Has Lost Its Soul–Where’d It Go?

Freddie Mercury stands tall before the Live AIDS concert crowd and delivers a heartfelt performance of Queen’s greatest hits. It was one of the largest concert crowds recorded. Freddy Mercury is one example of an artist who remained un-corrupt by the industry 
 (Photo Credits:

Katie Harrill, Staff Writer

March 20, 2019

There was a point in time where music meant something important. It was raw and vulnerable and full of soul. Singers played their instruments instead of using technology to create sounds. The artists could sing without autotune or voice filters. The records were real; they were true and organic. Now...

Anywhere North

You are driving beneath vandalized tunnels and six feet of your own indifference, writing pages and pages about yourself in the second-person as if to project that apathy toward an invisible You. You’re me. I just don’t admit it, because people get uncomfortable when others acknowledge the fact that we’re all driving away from something.

Holley Murray, Staff Writer

May 19, 2017

Your veins have begged you to run since the first beat of your heart. It’s a call you can’t ignore forever, but after three hours of driving toward Anywhere North Of This God-Forsaken Place, trees turn into looming soldiers lining the highways with their guns pointed at heaven, finger...

Ode to Despondency

The sun’s descent beneath the clustered buildings of Paris gave confidence to all night’s shadows, which huddled amongst the tattered scraps of paper and piled dust on the streets.  Amongst them, a man contemplates life and its overwhelming consequences.

Emily Stocksdale, Literature Editor

May 19, 2017

The sun’s descent beneath the clustered buildings of Paris gave confidence to all night’s shadows, even the most fickle in spirit, and they drew to huddle amongst the tattered scraps of paper and piled dust on the streets.  Huddled, too, against the back of a young man, barely upon the age of eight-and-ten,...

A Letter to a Pessimist from an Optimist Who Thinks Like a Realist

“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” ~Albert Einstein

Diana Rodgers, Web Editor

April 18, 2017

I could tell you to smile, To let your tear stained face go dry, Because there is so much in the world to look forward too, To cheer up, Because the sun is shining high and the birds are singing out their heart song; But it’s not true. None of what I just told you is true. I could...

The World Spins Too Fast for Me to Keep Up

Seconds make all the difference in a subway station where trains come and go in a blur. As Train 3 on the red line up to Times Square breezes into this Brooklyn station, I wonder if I’m the only one here who has let her mind still her hands and has been paralyzed from that moment.

Holley Murray, Staff Writer

April 18, 2017

I struggle to decide if the significance of life outweighs its brevity as I stand in a crowded subway station, shoulders hunched and surrounded by people with different lives and families and late-night insomnia prayers. I can’t help but look at each person passing by and wonder what they’ve seen:...

As Seniors In High School

“When we are children we seldom think of the future. This innocence leaves us free to enjoy ourselves as few adults can. The day we fret about the future is the day we leave our childhood behind.” ― Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind

Diana Rodgers, Web Editor

December 19, 2016

Life gets bolder. The weather gets colder. We grow older. As seniors in high school, the weight of the world seems to rest on our shoulders.   Words grow sharper. Nights get darker. The world becomes starker. As seniors in high school, our worldviews become clearer.   The...

A Collection of Poetry

Leilani Gibbons poses with a flamingo to emphasize the airy feeling of this poetry. The theme of love and nature transcends through not only these pieces but through life itself.

Noah Smith, Opinion Editor

December 7, 2016

The following are three poems that I have written. They all follow a central theme of love; however, I always try to keep my creative writing ambiguous in order to allow more people to relate to it. My personal favorite of these three is definitely Sunday Morning, but I hope you enjoy all of them!     The Road I Ta...

The Things We Were Told

“Though you may drift far from where you came, Go as far as you may need, As long as you remember to come back home.”

Leilani Gibbons, Features Editor

November 7, 2016

At 4 am, When it's too late to go back to sleep, And it's too early to start the day, Remember the things you were told   Remember that your mother Called you pumpkin and peach With a sweetness that stuck like cavities Making homes in the cracks and tight spaces   Remember...


A tale shared between time and life itself.

Jack Kern, Staff Writer

May 26, 2016

Time goes by, bringing some, and leaving far too many. Life creates to watch its creation flourish. Life is the novelist, and Time is the passionless publishing company, telling Life that what it has made is not enough and denying its work, a piece entitled, “Humanity.”  Life nurtures and cares...


Everything has to end eventually.

Danielle Stone, Staff Writer

May 23, 2016

Everything was perfect, But only for a moment. It couldn’t last Because no beautiful thing can.   It was a delicate thing, Fragile, as if made of glass, And it cracked Right under his fingertips.   All at once, Everything shattered. In the glass cascading...

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