Student Spotlight!

by Kori Linn, WITS Intern

I am constantly amazed by the work that takes place when I am in the classroom with Rachel Kessler at Ballard High School. This week I want to highlight some dramatic monologues and a postcard poem that I found to be especially thrilling. I hope y’all enjoy them as much as I did. Maybe they’ll even inspire you to do some writing of your own…

 

Big Pieces
by Henry E.

Now why would you do that?
Who cares that you’re crying? Look at me!
I’m all over the floor! Getting into your
feet! Grinding into the carpet!
You really just got a lot more work now.
I can’t believe you. You’re pathetic.
Just because you’re mad at the world
doesn’t mean I should get involved.
Oh look, now my OJ is soaking into
your socks THAT YOU DIDN’T PICK
UP.
Seriously?!
Well, you can always man the heck up
and clean! At least pick up my big
pieces?
Don’t close your eyes!
Okay, now there’s orange juice, sweat, AND
tears on the floor.
Blood, too, if you don’t GET THE FREAKING
BROOM!
God! Can’t you think of anyone but yourself?
What about your sister with her dance
lesson? Can’t do that on an
open gash now can she? Or your cats:
shiny things are food to them! Don’t choke
them! I don’t want to kill a cat!
Please? Jut the big pieces? Or all of them?

 

Siren
by  Alena S.

There is a song inside me
bursting to be free
I sing from the top of great cliffs
the jagged rocks thrusting up from the sea
It is not my fault that when men hear
me they want to join me on the rocks
All I want is to share the music
I can’t control how others react
The sailors are weak
if they want me so badly
I am strong
I am powerful
Many have died on the rocks below me
but that is not my fault
After all, all I do is sing

 

Circe’s Drink
by Jovantae D.

As she makes me she knows. As she
makes me I know. That when she makes me
we both know she makes me for a purpose.
As she serves me she knows. As she
serves me I know. The people they
don’t know. After it happens they still don’t know
but they wonder. They wonder why. But
they know how. As they crawl and squeal,
because for now they know that they have
been turned. They are now trapped as
pigs. How it happens it comes from
two words, come drink. It comes from one recipe.
You do not know what is in it, only I
and her know.

 

Postcard
by Oliver L.

There is a diner.
There is a desert.
There is a battered
old woman in a
sundress glaring
back at the sun’s
luminous stare.
greetings from Arizona.

– Oliver

 

 

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