Pottsville High School


What thoughts I have of you Shakespeare
Walking the streets late at night
The snow starts to fall and I remember you
Scanning the night sky in hopes to find pieces of you
Shakespeare rounds the corner on my train of thought
He is who helps me in my darkest times
Shopping for images in the leaves, the snowflakes
A loud bang sounds, my brain bleeds
You have killed my thoughts, taken my all
I am surely alive but barely breathing
What thoughts I have of you
They make it hard to breathe, yet feel so alive

Elizabeth Tilley

That Book

My book, yours
reading when you’re blind
dying when it’s real
book in that flying metal
in that book you cry
but book doesn’t fly
just books quietly
sounding book, looking left
sounding book with bitten apple
cord flying into the ear
my music, yours

Grace McCurrie

Not His Lily

One day strolling in a patch of lilies.
The girl picked a beautiful lily.
The boy told her she was his lily.
Everytime he met her he brought lilies.
They said they were forever in that patch of lilies.
She was his princess with a crown of lilies.
She thought she would always be his lily.
One day walking in that patch of lilies.
He told her she was still his lily.
But she saw him looking at a rose.

Hunter Cook

Beaver Lake, Beaver Lake

Beaver Lake, Beaver Lake
You are not just a lake,
You are the sea.
Your water is dirty yet clean,
and could be a mirror that reflects both halves of me.
Beaver Lake, Beaver Lake,
You’re my memory of laid back years,
playing Frisbee or with stray cats.
Beaver Lake, Beaver Lake,
You are not just a lake,
You are my family.
Because it was not just me and mine who rested beneath the glittering stars,
or basked in the burning sun’s rays,
but there you were also,
lapping at the beginning of my dreams.
Beaver Lake, Beaver Lake,
Your history is part of mine.
Beaver Lake, Beaver Lake,
This, Beaver Lake, is your history,
and it keeps on happening.

Erin Heikes

Not Friendly

She lets me drink her blood
But only when I compel her.
What is that I love so much
about her?
It’s her long, cocoa brown hair.
The way her eyes always look
like she is compelling me.
But she cannot compel me because
she is not a vampire.
I love her, but she does not love me and that is what kills my
dead soul the most.

Sydnee Simpson


The are many blues in the world
From sky blue to ocean blue
From gloomy blue to sick blue
Blue is my favorite color
What a beautiful shade of blue
She was a sad kind of blue
But he was a sad kind of purple

Bailey Floyd

Pottsville High School
Pottsville, AR
Dates of Visit: April 11 – 12, 2016
Faculty Sponsor: Andrea Hooper
Grade Level: 12
Appx. Number Students Served: 91
Visiting Writers: Cara Dees, Eszter Takacs