The House
The blackness fades,
The sun is bright in my eyes.
Colors of bright blue shift in front of my face.
It felt like a dream, I’m still not sure if it was.
The place is splendid.
Grass of green and skies of blue.
What a beautiful place.
Makes me fill with joy.
“Have I been here before?”
Maybe a nightmare.
The scenery shifts.
My mind full of gray, clouds brewing overhead.
But still a touch of fantasy.
It calls my name.
Do I dare to invoke into the unknown?
Louder and louder, til I can‘t bare it.
So, I do it.
A night terror,
My father told me of these once.
Lightning strikes, a crow swoops and stands near the cliff.
You’re going to fall.
You’re going to fall.
You’re going to fall.
The blackness is showing itself once more.
Alana Hilburn
Questions Left Unanswered
Nature’s origin remains a mystery Along with where it will all go
After the rot sets in from the moment of birth And the organs prepare for their eventual failure
Whether from cosmic stars Or an all-knowing God
Why the loneliness? The confusion? The Mundane?
Allowing your incognizant creatures to destroy the land they occupy?
The time spent and wasted pondering What happens to my soul?
Was I good enough,
or tainted from the beginning?
Zoe Meadows
All I Could Ever Wish For
Walking down a steep trail the backs of our legs on fire due to trying to contain
the trip downward. You can feel the dampness of the previous night’s storm rushing past your chilled skin
You can feel the humid air run through your hair and down your neck but you want nothing more than to keep going for the end of the embarkment
You are watching the sides of the narrow walkway descend into the most beautiful sparkling water. Your body feels as if it wants to fly into the water
As I slip my shoes off I can feel the cold drift of water bouncing off the waterfall as it crashes into the calm blue water
I peer over a rock ready to push my body off. Ready to feel my body relax In the freezing
cold water that would block everything out.
I jump.
With that I feel the relief of the hot summer air melt off my skin and descend into the water. This is all I could wish for at this
moment.
Eliza Robbins
Where I’m From
I am from toothbrush,
from Secret deodorant and shirt.
I am from the fur tumbleweeds on the floor (Rustic, grey, the smell of fall in the air.)
I am from squash plant, The pumpkin vine
Whose roots grab at my ankles like the hands of children each fall
I’m from Christmas movies and migraines From Courtney Leigh and Amanda Michelle.
I’m from the spur-of-the-moment trips and blunt conversations From “Keep your hands to yourself’ and “stop tattling.”
I’m from Easter Sunday church, and Thanksgiving day blessings I’m from Russellville and the Shannons,
Blazin’ Buffalo and Ranch Doritos and tacos From my army dad being deployed in Iraq From my mom’s unfortunate miscarriage at 23
On the upper shelf in my moms closet is a box full of old photographs, Organized with attention to detail
Reminiscing on my childhood along with my mother’s I am from these precious souvenirs,
Old and stained Tugging at my heartstrings.
Kyleigh Shannon
How to write a poem?
As you can see, it is not easy. Ever so often, my attention will drift past the letters on the page, to the unchangeable world around me. First, I will start to notice the drip, drip, drip of the leak from the ceiling, but I never dare to move out from under it. I must write, I will say, I must leave a legacy behind. Second, I will start to trace my special key that stays with me at all times. The drawings will cover my previous works, but clearly, I am no artist.
My desk may rot, the wall full of bars may rust, but that never comes to my attention. The occasional footsteps, on the other hand, wakes me from this trance, I call desperation. A roll call from those in charge, a checkup from the doctor in blue. And just before I bring my pen to the page, I am ripped from my desk, ripped from my inspiration.
Am I to blame? No, I would change things if I could. But since I can’t, I will sketch my keys and shower.
Jacob Mckellar
The reason why the house trembles.
People live beneath our feet.
They shake the ground,
So we yell Alive! Alive!
No, why does the house tremble?
Mother Earth is with a child.
Her baby is stretching and kicking.
No, why does the house tremble?
Listen! Believe!
If we’re quiet, it will pass.
We will not fear.
The house trembles because giants are angry.
No one knows why.
Jada Parker
Pottsville High School
Farmington, AR
Dates of Visit: March 29-30
Faculty Sponsor: Andrea Hooper
Grade Level: 12
Appx. Number Students Served: 66
Visiting Writers: Caitlin Plante and Samantha Campbell