Fayetteville High School


On Earth, it seems like
Everyone does things so easily.
I constantly second guess myself,
Doubt plagues everything I do.
I want to believe it’s a problem
Only in my mind.
But it’s because I’m not from here.
While humans do things to do them.
I do them to appear human.

Copeland Gray

Letting Go

I climb out of bed cautiously.
Almost in fear of losing an idea.
The windows must be open to let the sun in.
Swiftly, I collect my supplies from the spot where I left them. 

All accumulated for expression.
Smudges on my face.
My clothes covered in a rainbow of colors.
My hair a mess.
But from the pain comes my ideas.
Beautifully displayed on paper. 

Palmer Ayers

Where I’m From

I am from the silky, shiny spiderweb on the front porch,
From the bitter pollen tinting the breezeway yellow.
I am from the sickly, sweet dust in the scorched air.
I am from the squirrels, the groundhog, and the deer.
From buzzing bees and wasps.
I am from the pure soil that smelled like onions.
I am from the do as I say, not as I do.
I am from the large glistening rock.
From the huge pine tree in the bed of brush.
I am from the sweet-scented wood.
From the crumbling fence.
I am from the dying roses falling until there is nothing left. 

Liam Chimka

Where My Power Comes From

The worst thing in life may not be to fail,
but to stop.
I got my power from my mama.
Mama doesn’t stop.
Times they hated her before meeting her,
but Mama doesn’t stop.
No expectation of an education,
but Mara doesn’t stop.
Accustomed to abuse and pain
Mama doesn’t stop.
Less cash than deserved to her name,
but still she didn’t stop.
So many mispronounce her name
With its rich history and music
contained. Even on purpose, it’s
but Mama doesn’t stop.
In the face of the harshest criticism,
Mama doesn’t stop.
Time and time again, she’s failed,
but never did she stop. 

Madison Bussell


My power is different from yours.
I am strong.
The cold, salty tears that drip down my face.
Does that help you sleep?
The way I run at a certain pace
when my lungs get heavy and my
throat burns.
Is that what you long for me to have?
Sometimes, I think it is,
but I am strong.
I pour my soul into my ways of soft,
kind love.
The hard laughter born deep in my belly.
Even when I am down,
I am strong. 

Edith Jennings

Water, Soil, Seeds

How do I make this seed become a tree?
I don’t care what it is, as long as it becomes mine.
Pick up the trash you threw on the ground.
It hurts my tree.
May this tree be the only thing that
cares about me.
Water, soil, seeds.
Will this tree, this life, care about me?
Please don’t leave me tree.
I love you.
Stay here with me.
Care about me.
Love me.

Jade Brooks 

In a Jar 

Plain, apart,
Together they are amazing.
Confined by the walls of their own worlds.
My choice to combine them.
I put the final touches on
To make sure they stay together.
A sandwich,
As simple as PB and J.
We are never at our best alone.
All it takes is a partner,
To push you,
Help you,
Make sure you don’t fall.
We are as simple as we are complex.
We are condiments.
Our bonds are our bread.

Trace Foreman 


The grass isn’t quite green.
But it charms me.
It doesn’t cover the ground,
but lets it shine.
The bathrooms with their chipping paint.
The fence, keeping nobody out.
The parking lot, taking hostages.
The trees, holding children.
The people, old and new.
The way the ball bounces.
The fresh smell.
The breeze on our backs.
Always there.
Always the same.
Always perfect.
Do you see that?
Do you feel that?
Does it feel like home? 

Eleanor Lock


Silk suspended in the air
I raise my fingers to catch the instrument.
The alarmed look dances over.
My eyes like sunlight dances on water.
Despite the creeping feeling,
My legs move to the hum of the speaker. 

Mauve puddles hug my skin
from the times in which
My body did not
carry with the flag.
Counts prance and skip through
my ears. 

Feet feeling the rough texture
of the floor beneath me.
I construct the endurance to
cast the rifle into the air for
one last time.
It finds its final resting
spot in the crease of my palm. 

Macy Hunt

Place I Know 

The smell of pool water
hits my nose when I walk
through the doors.
The lady with a kind
smiles waves when I say
hello as she answers the phones.
My day starts with a
dark morning sky and
ends with a sunset.
My backpack is shallow,
but when I go home it is
filled with unique rocks
and notes from friends
and when I read them it’s
almost like I can
hear their voice.
The place I go on these
hot days is filled with
childhood friends and joy. 

Kayla Cox


Though your words might spew hate,
I listen.
Though your words might speak of love and light,
I listen.
Though you yourself might be speechless,
I listen.
“She’s a good listener,” they’ve always said.
Because I’m quiet, anti-controversial? Or simply a blank
canvas for others to illuminate their worries, anxieties, or thoughts.
Yet, there is more.
I listen because I love.
I listen because I care.
I listen because it matters.
I listen because when the curtain is rolled away who is left but us?
Though we agree or disagree, a listening human ear lets
us all feel sane.
So, to that,
I listen. 

Emily Morris

Sweetly Tinged Rivers

Just a girl in some market,
a purse on her shoulder with a crate in her hands,
just a normal shopping day,
grabbing a random casual outfit to accompany her,
a casual but pretty outfit,
and I voice that to her as I pass by.
There’s a smile on her face and glitter in her eyes.
Just a few words from a stranger
that made such a sweet feeling.
And now she’ll feel compelled to share those same words,
same joy, same sweet feeling to another,
then like a dazzling stream,
another river of kindness flows in the world,
all breaking off to create more and more,
in hopes we’ll eventually live in a sweet body of water with each other. 


Fayetteville High School
Fayetteville, AR
Dates of Visit: March 30-31
Faculty Sponser: Angela Clark
Grade Level: 9th
Appx. Number Students Served: 228
Visiting Writers: Kate Davis, Sylvia Foster, Ali Hintz, Sophie Trist