Mount St. Mary Academy

A Mundane Day

Sitting in my homeroom
one year ago
I remember it vividly despite the time that’s passed.
It was the day before school let out for winter.
I was sitting in my chair, head in my hand, looking
out of the window.
The sky was an icy blue light enough to be mistaken
for clouds not present.
The trees were bare, and the grass was dying.
As I waited to be picked up, almost alone
I noticed how mundane it was.
It was simple, the same as always, just
another day to be forgotten in my sea of memories.
I thought of how I would forget this moment
years down the line
and I resolved myself to remember.
Because even if all the simple memories of the year
were swept away
at least I would remember this cold simple day
in this simple unforgiving classroom, almost alone,
waiting to be picked up and taken home.

Eli Dearworth

A Dream or Nightmare

rain the air cannot weigh him down
the blowing of the wind cannot keep her away
the lace on her dress mixes with the tall grasses
of the field
under a willow with clouds rolling overhead
thunder claps and his head snaps towards the
her hand on his check is all he needs
back to this secret wedding under a tree

Adele Uekman

Ode to the Old Popcorn in Kernel Stuck in my Teeth

There, I see the farmer, in a field of yellow
and green. The bright sky with white clouds
that look like unfolded blankets. The buzz of
the gnats and the army of ants, stinging and
biting in their single file line across my bumps.
I am gathered, torn from my roots,
pop, pop, pop. The vibration, the mystery
of the spinning room, I am in a bag looking
through a fuzzy glass window, a person.
Overstimulated as I am soggy in
my yellow, it tastes salty, unsettling as
there are hundreds of pieces of me. It’s all black,
dark, wet. I am nothing but a kernel between
two large rocks, with a glimpse of light,
I am still soggy, I am stuck.

Lindley Bailey

Ode to the Rolly Pollies

Oh how thy curl up
now thy survive at thy 12 feet of darkness
Where art thou?
Fighting against the boxy dolphin with rubber feet.
Oh how thy does it
starting at thy brown-haired skinny maiden’s
flower bed
wind snoring thy to thou edge of the thy cliff
saying one last goodbye
plummeting to thy bottom of thy red sea
fighting thy water pressure
attempting to stick to thy edge
yet thou is not match
as a tall god of poles weeps thou up
throwing thou across thy land
oh how precious thou’s life was.

Avery Brooks

Putting the “Fun” in “Funeral”

The cloths were beautiful, sharp, and dark
The music was just to die for
The flowers smelled lovely, the people so nice
The food at the end was a 10/10
Some people were crying but I tuned them out
The incense smelled warm and welcoming
One dude was cold and silent, but other than that
would definitely recommend. 

Evelyn Jara


The cake stared at the
fish who stood
like a horse.
The laugh was loud
and the face felt pink.
I dropped my fork
and it fell by the chair.
The chair began to spin,
and the world went black.
The fork that fell was not a fork,
but a fish bowl, yet no fish.
The bowl was filled with milk,
to which the gorilla drank from.
The gorilla barked and the world went still.
I woke up to find my cat
floating in the air.

Madie Moix

Sticker Earrings

You made me feel grown up
so much confidence I got when I stuck
you on my unpierced lobe.
Now you take me back to 2012
when I would wear my princess heels
and ballerina dresses even though we al
know I could never actually be one
because of my lack of coordination.
Now you sit in my drawer next to my
singular banana split lip gloss and
travel-sized toothpaste.

Ella Parker


A grey landscape with a gloomy sky
within the nothingness was a playground
reds and blues were faded and gone
but the child did not care.
The child screamed through their eyes
their fingers gripped to the immobilized merry-go-round.
The father scrolled on his grey phone
as the grey light lit his face.
It was grey.
I walked up to the little one and gave them a push
I watched them for a bit.
I just felt the grey breeze.
I found myself in a car garage with a grey tuck of sorts.
A Door was blocked by a vacuum cleaner.
It rounded a bump on a Welcome! mat
and when I lifted it up came a lady
old and frail, hunched and scrunched.
I backed up against the truck’s cab; stuck,
the old lady cried tears of blood out of eyeless slits.
Blood dripped from her mouth and her ears and her nose
I woke and went back to sleep over and over.
Every time she got closer to me.

Jordyn Lane


His smile resembled a
home that I’d never seen before.
His essence like a
warm hug. Where did you go?

Words disappear and tears say hello
like a stray dog
that won’t walk to your safety.
Talking to a wall that
has a soul but can’t use it
to be kind. Just
know that I love you. I’m
here. Though I may not
be your definition of love,
you were mine.

Mattie Grace Jones

I Smell Rain

I smell rain.
I look up and see the dark clouds,
but I am not frightened.
I love rain.
The sound it makes when it hits the roof
the way it seems to calm everyone down
I want to be rain.
After it rains, all the plants seem brighter
the plants seem happier.
I want to leave a mark like rain does.

Ella Reece Harrison

Pink Cheeks

Zippers zig-zagged,
the funky little noise filled the kitchen.
Heavy boots were dropped,
plopping down onto the floor with a thud.
My siblings and I giggled in anticipation.
Just like our fluffy snow suits,
our hearts were full of warmth.
As the door opened the crisp breeze
gently met our cheeks.
With each step a crunch of snow
could be heard.
Our bright jackets flashed against the vivid white snow.
Our cheeks grew pink
as our time elapsed.
What a beautiful winter day.

Elena McNeff

A Dusk Ride

The land is flat, wet until the hills.
The trees are young yet well rooted.
Below me strides a gorgeous beast,
a piece of history.
The hills frame the ever-lowering sun.
The wings rustles and the beaks chirp.
The deer watch, ears alert.
This owns my peace.

Grace Dailey

Mount St. Mary Academy
Little Rock, Arkansas
Dates of Visit: February 13-16
Faculty Sponser: Monica Madey
Grade Level: 9th
Appx. Number Students Served: 131
Visiting Writers: Kate Stoltzfus, Sylvia Foster, Sarah Barch, Sidney Thomas