The small feeling you give me makes me feel incomplete.
Thinking there’s fulfillment in your heart but in reality, there is emptiness.
Instead of hope, dread meets the windows because it bares no welcome.
Choosing to love one’s flaws does not come to mind for this home.
As I lie in my pitch black room, I stare at my ceiling.
Being highlighted by the headlights of passing cars,
reminding me of the unfinished essay I need to revise.
Stress swirling my mind as I try to sleep.
It’s 9:30pm, I need to be up at 5:00am.
My mind gets stuck on an argument I had with a friend,
thinking about everything I could’ve said.
Then I hear something in the other room.
It’s probably my dog, but what if it was an intruder?
What would I do if it was?
It’s 12:26am, I need to be up at 5:00am.
Tomorrow I need to go to a car wash after school.
I probably won’t have time before work.
What if my tire goes flat and I’m stranded?
What if I crash on my way to school?
It’s 2:45am, I need to be up at 5:00am.
I’m so tired, but my mind won’t turn off.
I try counting like my doctor told me.
I make it to 2364, but lose count.
I hate insomnia, I wish I could sle…
I’m interrupted, It’s my alarm.
It’s 5:00am, I need to get up.
The sound of rain trickling down on my roof,
wakes me up from a deep sleep.
My day is already made,
it is dark and ever so calm in the house.
The sound of coffee squeezing into the pot,
makes me crave the hot feel flowing down into my stomach.
All of the lights are off in the house,
everyone was asleep but me.
Why can’t I just stay home today?
I would love to lay and listen to the soothing music the rain makes.
It makes me feel warm and welcomed in my home.
But the dark and rainy day calls my name.
Words. Always unnecessary, but always expected.
It’s a buzzing static that never seems to leave.
Never ceasing phone calls and hour long talks. Long done conversations and endless chatter.
“Use your words.” “May I have a word?” “What’s the word?” “If I could get a word in…”
Forever present is the need for words to fill the gaps of our existence.
Parents around the world ache for a child’s utterance of their first word
Occasions made and traditions built on a simple word
Wars started and relationships ended.
Would it not be more simple to look, to see, to be silent in the radio static?
The Blue House
The blue house
The green grass
All mixed together as if on a palette.
Colors that would never match,
but join together in triumph as a community.
Under the small clique, lives a whole new group
Bigger houses with expensive cars.
Taller trees with concrete roots.
Tens of feet, separating the small building,
From the business down below.
Two worlds in one plane of view,
Nothing is the same.
No one knows the lives of the others around them,
but they can both see the clear blue sky.
The characters in the
Book come and go.
Here in one chapter,
Gone the next.
Pages turn, chapters unfold.
Before long that best friend
You once knew has been left
In chapter twelve.
The once seemingly insignificant detail
Now has a payoff,
But it doesn’t feel that enriching.
Flip, flip, flip,
The pages turn violently to an
You somehow knew it would come
Yet you never acted like it.
Pottsville High School
Dates of Visit: April 3-4
Faculty Sponser: Andrea Hooper
Grade Level: 12th
Appx. Number Students Served: 70
Visiting Writers: Sam Campbell, Louise Cole