October

Published on  
October 1, 2020

Mountain Sunset

Chloe Paul

A little bit of traffic,

curvy Ochs Highway,

Where the tourists almost reach a halt.

Constant yelling of the locals,

“There are pull-offs for a reason!”


Scenic Highway,

the straight-away. 

Windows completely open,

seventy miles per hour breeze on a warm summer night,

The fresh smell of Italian pizza and wildflowers.

Friendly waves from fellows in old Ford pickups,

Blasting songs by Caamp 

and “Cover Me Up” by good ole Morgan Wallen,

With the quick plucking of guitar strings.

The little shack,

the Mountain Mart is only a blur. 


There it is.

The Overlook,

Or the Hangliding spot, if you will.

All of Georgia,

As far as the eye can see.

Cows, as small as ants in the pasture.

Lights from the city towards the east.

The little bright-colored triangles,

lightly floating down.


Time stops.

Sit there on the rocks,

Oh please don’t fall off! 

Shoes off,

Feel the light tickle of the wind between your toes.

But, that is not what one’s eye is drawn to.

It’s the rich painting,

Painted in the sky.


The deep purple,

on the verge of lilac.

The cotton candy clouds,

Pastel pink,

a little red overmixed with white.

Bright orange,

like orange Crush soda,

Streaks of gold,

they are blinding.

Round sun,

With a warm orange hue,

Slowly disappearing,

as time continues to pass. 


One perfect night,

Silence fills the air, as night begins to creep in.

As the song, “Saturn” draws to a close.

Pondering the meaning of Beauty,

Friendship,

and Peace.


Oh, what a sunset can do for the soul!


Hand

Amelia Barr

My View

Addie Gamache


Morning Meditation

Author


'There is one heart whose thoughts are strong, whose very dreams are lives.' - G.M.


Evening remnants patter softly on

             the roof, though whether driblets from

an oak or just the rhythmic cadence

             of the ceiling fan is more than I can 

say. It siphons me hypnotically above 

             the bed and through the drywall, above 


the yellow house where all the branches

             congregate to share their scented secrets.     

Up and up it ushers me till I’m beyond

             the Milky Way, where there I apprehend 

that yes, surely this is someone's dream,

             if one in which I'm but a lucky participant.

Comfortably Numb

Lauren Tyler

Figures pass by in perfect time

Fading eyes are staring into mine

There are dark circles under my eyes

And fuzzy lines on the horizon

I can feel death coming from behind


“Tell me, is the damage done?

Have they all come?”

Should I stay or should I run?

I’ve risked it all, I’ve had my fun

But I’ve become comfortably numb

Cat by Scarlett Walker



Vicissitudes

Emmy Hubbard

The vicissitudes are coming

I feel it in my bones

Like the smell of rain,

Dark clouds rolling in,

Color gathering on my radar


The vicissitudes are coming

And I anxiously await them

Melancholy by Jada Tun


Little Engine

Mr. Harvey


Alarming how a well-artic-

             ulated argument can shift

our apprehension of reality—

             but then, I've heard a penny

can derail a thundering train,

so maybe it's much the same.

    

Either way, we need to travel 

             to the Mountains there, so help

us, Lord, to prudently determine

             proper means of transportation

that will bring us to the Peaks,

             be it iron tracks or bloody feet.

The Question

Mr. Harvey

Yes, it was me who let it out

the cage, but I'd projected it

as tamer when I did the deed.


Now the kids are on the desks

and begging me to make it go

away, like I were fast enough to


catch it with my own bare hands,

like I were really capable to find

a way to lure it back to the safe


terrarium of theoreticals they love

to ogle but never touch themselves.

I had only hoped to pump a rush


of blood to this cold sarcophagus 

they call a class, but now it's past

my expertise, and all that I can  


do is pray they run away to find

a Teacher who possesses more

composure in the existential storm.

My Point of View by Davis DeLoach

Beyond a Bush

Mr. Harvey


But what if this would constitute 

as Holy Ground as well, and that,

and even over there, and really all


of it’s aflame with something well-

beyond our marginal ability to see,

much less apprehend? And maybe


all our heads are hissing with the 

tongues of pentecostal fire, our des-

ert pilgrimage preceded by a pillar


just as big and hot as theirs. Consider

that you and I are currently engulfed

in lightning on a mountain's peak! If


this is true, Eternal Flame, forgive us 

these our sandals and our tennis shoes.

You understand, I trust, our tender feet.


Obsession by Mrs. Baker


Letters

Lauren Tyle

Notes, poems, and letters

All litter my bed

And every single one of them

Is about you.

Letters I’ll never send,

Poems I’ll never read,

And notes you’ll never see.

The only exception is this.

A poem I’ve written for you.

Something to say I still remember.

The only problem is,

Everyone will read this

Except for you.


The Great Depression II by Jada Tun

The Flowers on the Marble Countertop 

Addie Miles

It has become a trend for flowers to be sitting in a glass vase 

on the white marble kitchen countertop. 

They normally appear about every 3 months or so, 

Sometimes the flowers appear more frequent.

 

They sometimes seem to appear

 when my life is falling apart 

Even though it is not 

 

The flowers bring me

comfort

strength  

perseverance 

when it seems to be impossible

 to muster them up myself

 

In the spring months

tulips appear on the counter top 

which happens to be my favorite flower. 

I see

the vibrance 

that they have and they

make me strive to have a vibrant energy, 

even when I don’t

think I can

 

I am very

 undeserving of these flowers because

 I did nothing to deserve them

I don’t always go out of my way to care for the flowers 

like they have done for me 

But the flowers keep me going 

they help push me through 

the hard moments 

and keep on coming 

 

Words cannot describe 

how thankful I am for the flowers 

Or the green eyed boy

 who stands on my front porch with the flowers in his hand

 and a smile on his face

Enchanted Forest by Chloe Paul

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