SELF-PORTRAIT
curl in a strand of hair
hole in a broken trampoline
snake curled in the branches of a jungle tree
dent in a fluffy pillow
stairs in the shadow of a crooked roof
chair in a rigid alley
wine glass on a Tuesday morning
a hallway down a mansion
an infinite road to flowers
Joscelynn
How To Swallow A Volcano
Don’t worry about it, it’s ok
Just drink it like a banana soufflé
Yeah yeah, it’s hot. Just plan it
like a plot
When you swallow it don’t
cry just know you did
it and have
pride.
Zevian Webster
Fears
Shakespeare
Dolls
Clowns
Serial killers
Puppets
Satanic Rituals
Wendigo
Poltergeist
Spiders (Big)
Heights
Cardboard cutouts
Running out of ink in the
middle of drawing
Edgar Allen Poe
The unknown
My mom’s angry side
Cemeteries
Cats
Social interaction
Jumpscares
Suspense
Drowning
Falling
Burning
Choking
Murder
Bleeding to death
Cults
Shadows
Alternate universes
Black holes
Fan fiction
Consequences
Paul King
Rectangle
An old man’s rusty music player,
A cat’s smelly litter box, A dusty
old dictionary, A homeless man’s
torn-up box, A burned picture of
a deer, A box of tissues for the young
girl’s tears, The smell of chocolate
for the cranky little boy.
Aschier Dobbins
Triangle
The Triforce on Link’s left hand
The sail of a sailboat
The points of stars on a flag
The yellow turn sign at the end of the street
The sharp teeth of a wolf
The tip of a sword
The building in Little Rock
Kassius Gavigan
How to Know For Sure You’re in a Morgue
The ice cold metal doors could be an indicator
that you’re about to enter a morgue. The loud creak of
the door, the heavy silence, the way that your heart
mourns for its stopped brothers & sisters. The strong
scent of formaldehyde, it’s almost suffocating. The
bitter taste of the air when you open your mouth
to speak. How you know you’re in a morgue is the
horror of knowing you’re alone in a room you
could end up in.
Hannah Spencer
Where I Go At Night
I look at the white door
in the pitch black room, it is so
silent. I twist the golden door knob
I get nervous afraid someone will
see me. I see the dark black road
and can smell the dew on the ground.
I run faster and faster to the grave
yard. I see all the headstones, but
one stands out. My grandma’s. I love
it here, but no one should know this
is where I go at night…
Abbigail Maitland
In My Dream
It was a cloudy day
The clouds were gray.
The clouds were crying.
Crystals were falling to the ground
Along with the tears that fell
From the clouds.
The exotic jungle is transforming
into a swamp.
The trees are melting into moss.
The murky water is swallowing
the flowers.
The remains of the flowers and trees
Possess the girl who lives in
the jungle.
Slowly she grew foggy and lost her
way in the swamp.
She walks every part of the
swamp alone.
India Travis
Red
on the book at school.
stop sign next to the
gas station.
like the line on this paper
that I am writing on.
like the American flag.
like fire on the stove.
Kyle Brank
Jacksonville Middle School
Jacksonville, AR
Dates of Visit: November 8 – 9, 2016
Faculty Sponsor: Deborah Lutz
Grade Level: 8
Appx. Number Students Served: 160
Visiting Writers: Hannah Bradley, Emily Lerner, Michelle Myers, Anna Vilner