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Lanthorn Lite: “The Journey of a Leaf” and “Valentine House”

Published in collaboration with The Lanthorn.

“The journey of a leaf”

By Essie Fenstermacher, from The Lanthorn Fall 2013 Edition

I was born and grown on high

now is the time for my descent

and death

wheeling soaring flipping tumbling screaming laughing swirling

I shall nourish the earth

and make room for those coming

after me 


Lanthorn Editor’s Note: Ally Stevick

“The journey of a leaf” isn’t long, but it packs a punch. It effectively fulfills its title by giving the leaf’s journey in just seven lines, and very effectively crafts that journey into a story arc that is ripe with imagery. By personifying the leaf, and speaking from its perspective, the poem suggests that the sentiments expressed here can be shared by people as well as leaves–we too are born and grow, we too go through life tumbling and screaming and laughing, and we too will nourish the earth when we die. 

One of the things I especially admire about this poem is its fearless approach to death. The speaker accepts that “now is the time” for death, and seems unafraid and at peace with that, after a life of “growing on high.” In fact, the speaker seems almost happy at the prospect of a fruitful death that nourishes those who are still living. This is truly a vision of a life free from the fear of death, and while it’s not explicitly tied to the Christian view of death in the poem, I find that those resonances, intended or not, make the poem especially beautiful to me. 

Another aspect of “Journey of a leaf” that I find particularly delightful is its structure. Each stanza connects to a part of the leaf’s life cycle, and so as we read we can see the progression from growth, to falling, to death on the ground. Since the poem is arranged vertically, we can almost see the leaf located in space: growing at the top of the tree in the first stanza, falling through the air in the middle, and landing on the ground in the last. That middle stanza, which is just one line, catches the reader up in the action and movement of the leaf with its list of gerunds. This line is dynamic both in the very nature of each word used, and in the fact that it moves the reader, with the leaf, from one state of being to another. I think the dynamism of that line is part of what makes the ending so effective. After its growth and active journey through the air, when the leaf comes to rest on the ground both it and the reader can be satisfied.


“Valentine House”

By Amanda Irwin, from The Candle October 2013 Edition

My mother grew up

in the basement of a retirement home.

Tired, the residents shuffled to dinner.

One man

stood every night

at the head of the table without clothes

years of gravity

evident in his sagging,

translucent skin.

The yard of fruit trees bled sweet

in the summer, tender and dripping

on the melting asphalt.

Each plum had a worm

and my grandmother

with the succulent heart

in the curve of her palm

would cut

out the tainted square 

of dark flesh. 


Editor’s Note: Ally Stevick

“Valentine House” gives me chills. I first encountered it when it came out in October 2013, in one of the mini packets The Lanthorn has occasionally released with the name The Candle. I was thirteen then, reading poetry in the periodical section of the library one afternoon and I was struck then, as now, by the vivid and evocative imagery that this poem uses. 

The language of the poem is simple, giving straightforward narration and descriptions, but the content itself is aesthetically striking and deeply intriguing. I’m particularly struck by the conclusions of the both of the two stanzas, the image of the man with “his sagging, translucent skin” and of the plum with “the tainted square of dark flesh.” Part of what makes this poem so effective is that it builds to these two highly visual ideas. As readers, we are drawn in, even as we feel we are maybe seeing a little more than we ought to. There is something poignantly personal about the image of this old, naked man, who is exposed to the reader as to the other people at the table. We feel we should look away, especially, perhaps, because the speaker ties his years to his skin, so we feel we are seeing more than just his body, but his life as well.

The second dominant image of the poem contrasts beautifully with the first. While the first is an image of pale, “translucent” flesh, the second is an image of the “dark flesh” of the worm-eaten plums. Visually they are opposites, but they also seem to be moral opposites as well. While the old man in the first stanza comes across as innocent in his nakedness, the flesh described here is “tainted,” almost guilty of its worms. And like the years of the man’s life were tied to his skin before, here the plums seem tied to the idea of hearts. The poem suggests that not only is the speaker’s grandmother cutting the bad spots out of fruit, she’s cutting the bad spots out of hearts as well. I find that image a fascinating one, particularly because the poem doesn’t tell us whether we should interpret this paring to be wholly positive or not. “Valentine House” leaves us with that intriguing and unsettling image, to do with it what we will. 

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Lanthorn Lite: “Coffee Mug Conversations”

Published in collaboration with The Lanthorn, from their February 2019 volume, “Imprints”. Poem by Tyger Doell with commentary from Lanthorn editor Ally Stevick.

“I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.”

– T.S. Eliot, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”

You have filled my mug up

With all you have to offer me;

The hospitality wraps around my nose,

Smiles at me through my reflection

In the liquid.

We both lift the cups to our lips,

A warm and friendly Eucharist

It is like you whisper to me

(and truthfully, I to you)

“When you go from this place,

Do this in remembrance of me.”

In this moment,

I see myself in a thousand mornings and evenings,

Some of them spent at your table.

In this moment, and infinite others

I will.


Lanthorn Editor’s Note: Ally Stevick

“Coffee Mug Conversations” first stood out to me because of the epigraph–I love T.S. Eliot’s “The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock” and I love the way that this poem pays homage to it. “Coffee Mug Conversations” makes the drinking of coffee not only a physical action, but also a stage for emotional and relational action. I’ve always interpreted the quote about measuring out life with coffee spoons to mean that each coffee spoon represents a day in the speaker’s life, but “Coffee Mug Conversations” suggests to me a new possible interpretation: that coffee in a social context like this becomes more than just the coffee, and that to measure it out is to measure out life as well. 

I also enjoy the allusion to the Eucharist–the imagery of cups and drinking resonates well with that of taking the Eucharist. But more than the physical imagery, I appreciate how this poem reminds me that Eucharist or Communion is just that–a kind of communing, a fellowship. The Latin root which the word “communion” comes from means “sharing in common.” This sharing is present both in the Eucharist and in this poem–as the two characters share coffee and friendship. I think that “Coffee Mug Conversations” can serve well to remind the reader of those special people with whom the reader has communed over coffee. This is a reminder that I really value. 

Feel free to share your thoughts on this piece in the comments below, and check out more from The Lanthorn on their website!

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Stories In Focus

First Issue of Lanthorn Continues Legacy

On Friday, October 28, Houghton College’s poetry and prose periodical, The Lanthorn, put out its first issue of the academic year. Edited by Carina Martin ‘18 and illustrated by Natalia Sytch ‘18, the subject of this first edition was “On Bodies.” Martin asked writers to describe, deconstruct, and transform the human perception of bodies, writing in the preface to the issue: “A body is a difficult thing to be.” The editor’s note concluded with the statement, “The silent threshold awaits. The place just past it coaxes us to jump–or tiptoe quietly–or leap with our breath tight inside our chests. Let’s meet there.”

According to Martin, “The Lanthorn has been a Houghton literary tradition for decades. We have issues dating back as far as the early 1930s.” She added, “[The magazine] is about students who love words coming together to encourage each other creatively and ponder each other’s perspectives.” It is a collaborative form of expression that “exists so that we can all come together in fellowship around the written word. In a world of constant division, the goal of The Lanthorn is to unite and inform us rather than divide us.”

While Martin is the editor of the publication, The Lanthorn is a collaborative effort of many students on Houghton’s campus. All students are invited to submit their work via a campus-wide email, and once all of the submissions have been received, Martin sends them out to her readers. These readers are not given the names of writers, and are asked to rate the pieces they receive. Martin then compiles the top-rated pieces, lays out the issue using Adobe InDesign, and prints it through Quick Print.

The literary magazine has been a continued presence on Houghton’s campus since its first issue was published in 1932. Sophia Ross ‘17, whose grandfather, Wesley Nussey ’40, was one of the first editors of The Lanthorn in 1938, and acted as one of two co-editors her junior year, recognizes the legacy of the magazine. When asked what sets it apart from other writing outlets at Houghton, Ross stated that the periodical is “an outlet where we can voice how we feel.” Where other publications are more focused on current events and technology, The Lanthorn is “geared toward the poetic,” she said.

“I think it affirms poetry’s continued significance in today’s society,” Ross said. She believes each issue is a continuation of the larger canon of The Lanthorn, adding that topics explored in past issues of the publication dating back to the mid-1900s explore similar themes to the work published in today’s Lanthorn.    

According to Martin, what separates this most recent issue from previous issues is that it is rooted in diversity. Martin stated there is a “a higher degree of diversity than there has been in the past.” She added, “There are a lot of people at Houghton who are writing, powerful, insightful, beautiful words.” In publishing their work, she hopes to “shine a light on some of the voices we may not hear from very often.”

Joe Miner ‘18, who was published for the first time in this edition, described this edition as “more confessional” than previous issues. He said, “Every piece goes deep to the core of the writer.” Along with Martin and Miner, this issue’s writers are comprised of students from several different years and majors, including Theresa Patnala ‘19, Samuel Yuly ‘18, Meredith Guffey ‘17, Judith Marklin ‘17, Rachel Harrington ‘19, Hendrick de Smidt ‘19, Bethany Kuiken ‘18, Jonan Pilet ‘17, and Shannon Moore ‘19. Each voice views the human body and its struggles and celebrations differently, which in turn represents what Martin described as the “incredible diverse interests and passions” of Houghton students.    

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Stories In Focus

Houghton’s Literary Magazine Burns Bright

In an average week students regularly see the campus publications The Houghton Star and The Drawing Board strewn about. To break the monotony about twice a semester a different type of publication hits the stacks, Houghton’s literary magazine, The Lanthorn. With its debut volume hitting campus in May of 1932, The Lanthorn has been an outlet for student writers to showcase creative work outside of the writing classroom. Current Lanthorn editor Ben Murphy, senior, compares the Lanthorn to other non-academic functions around campus; “the student juried art show allows any student to put their work out there [and] Java provides a venue for people to play their own music. We do the same sort of thing, I think.”

academics-headerOften run on a low budget, the Lanthorn publishes a range of creative writing, both poetry and prose, and artwork as well. And while the Lanthorn may have obvious appeal to both English and Writing majors, the Lanthorn accepts and encourages work from all majors, a tradition they’ve strived to maintain.

With that in mind, the Lanthorn has served as a sort of jumping off point for writers to kick-start their careers. Current Academic Dean Linda Mills-Woolsey, vice president for academic affairs, and several of her editorial staff are all prime examples of writers that continue to benefit from their experience and involvement with the Lanthorn. Mills-Woolsey herself has published a range of work, mostly poetry, and a number of her group who first published in the Lanthorn went on to have writing careers.

Writing careers aside, the Lanthorn offers experience for those applying to graduate school and jobs outside of the professional writing sector; 2013 Lanthorn Editor alumna Hannah Hanover, added that “participation and publication in a college’s literary magazine or compilation is highly desirable when applying to graduate school, or even creative positions in the job market.”

While the Lanthorn has the potential to provide valuable professional experience for writers, according to Murphy, it provides an important outlet in offering anonymous publishing, “[it] allows for a safe space for emotions and narratives that may not jive with typical Houghton-friendly issues.” Moreover for students who, like Murphy, “think of words as [their] art,” the Lanthorn plays a major part in “providing a place for wordy-art.”

Like every longstanding publication, the Lanthorn has consistently undergone changes, and this year is no different. This year’s editors worked to “establish a recognizable symbol [marketing brand],” for the Lanthorn according to Murphy, and senior Abby Buckingham handling the design with the help of Caffeinated Creative Studios, in hopes to “better cement the magazine’s presence and identity in students’ minds,” according to Murphy.

Along with this redesign, the Lanthorn has shifted towards encouraging more prose works. “Some years the Lanthorn has been very poetry heavy,” said Murphy, who sees the turn towards prose reflecting his own work as a fiction writer, and added, “I imagine this sort of thing will shift along with whoever is the current editor.” As far as design goes, Hanover mentioned that she and her staff worked to “[bring] back a larger, fuller format for the bi-annual Lanthorn, complete with vibrant color photos and art.” Additionally, a special trend with the Candle has been publishing a “special feature” edition, last year’s featured staff writing and art, and this spring’s featured only flash fiction and haikus.

An enduring Houghton tradition, the next hurdle the Lanthorn faces is the digital age. As the number of college newspapers publishing online continues to rise, the question of the power of print lingers. Murphy weighed the pros and cons, saying, “I think the benefit to print is that we can leave them lying around campus for people to peruse and then leave behind…Also because the edition is selective (we publish probably around 30% of what we receive) I think the quality of work and satisfaction gained from getting in would certainly go out the window,” and on the other hand, “I think there could be something said for a digital version or counterpart of the publication, though it would take a more tech and design savvy editor than myself.”

With the technology debate unsettled, the Lanthorn will no doubt continue its tradition of publishing student work and serving as a true creative outlet for writers campus-wide.