Reverie Literary Magazine 2017

Reverie

Episcopal Collegiate School Jackson T. Stephens Campus 1701 Cantrell Road Little Rock, Arkansas 72201

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Illumination:

revealing paths; ex ploring adventures; sharing knowledge; spreading light & love Editor : Elizabeth Strickland Staff : Anna Campbell, Townes Delp, Alisha Duvall, Emma Lassiter, and Haley Pruett Faculty Advisor : Vivian Blair Special Thanks to : Tandy Cobb, Lisa Conyer, Blane Covert, Amy Gatewood, Sarah Higgins, Pam Lewis, Lauren Martin, Heather McPherson, Jessica McSpadden, Debbie Pettibone, Don Stalls, Joy Schultz, and Shelly Sutton

Printer : Allegra Print & Imaging Colophon : 500 copies of Reverie have been printed on 80 pound Endurance Gloss with 100 pound Endurance

Silk for the cover. The text is set in Nella Sue and Minion Pro Regular. Nella Sue is a font created by Jenna Sue Design Co. Minion Pro, designed by Robert Slimbach, is an Adobe Original typeface and was originally released in 1990.

Contents : Front Cover: Alisha Duvall and Emma Lassiter

Contents 4-5.................Alisha Duvall: Halo 6.....................Emma Lassiter: Metal Music and

Madison Davis: Le Club 7.....................Lucy Paul: Violin 8.....................Alexa Strauss: Sunset Through the Trees 9.....................Brooke Elliott: Grove 10...................Braden Seale: Colorado Mountains 11...................Alexa Strauss and Annie West: The

Resting Sun 12-13.............Ben Gatewood: Rooster Etching 14...................Milo McGehee: Infinite Seashell 15...................Mary Claire Patton: Dolphin 16...................Alisha Duvall: Drinking Silence’s Potion 17...................London Jones: Night Girl 18-19.............Haley Henderson: Sea Turtle 20...................David Davila: The Partido/The Game 21...................RJ Rice: The Weeknd 22...................Samuel Rhee: Autumn Twilight 23...................Alice McCormick: Tree in Fall 24-25..............Sarah Reddick: Elephant 26...................Ben Gatewood: Stairway 27...................Dahye Kim: 미래/Future 28.....................Maggie Jones: See No Evil 29.....................Harrison Shelnutt: I Took a Walk in the Woods Once 30.....................Micaylah Thomas: A La Madre Tierra/

To Mother Earth 31......................Anna Lien: Sunset on the Sea 32-33................Lily Warren: Meteorite 34......................Alisha Duvall: Piece-ful

35....................Ella Claire Moore: Always 36....................Anna Campbell: What It Means to Live

Free and Maggie Jones: Profile 37....................Kobi Greer: Constellations 38....................Chloe Gehring: Margot Robbie 39....................Gabrielle Rancifer: Be Yourself 40-41...............Emma Lassiter: The Reason for Language 42-43...............Olivia Moore: Glitch Girl and

Elliott Solis: Agate 44.....................Madelyn Odle: Fly Free 45.....................Elizabeth Strickland: End of an Era 46.....................Braden Seale: Addie 47.....................Madison Davis: Mi Lugar Feliz/My Happy

Place 48.....................Lily Radtke and Sophie Reynolds: The

Life of a Sunset 49.....................Lauren Whitehead: If the Sun Met the

Moon 50-51...............Caroline Harrelson: Shadow Self 52.....................Morgan Davis: A Place 53.....................Emma Lassiter: Reflection 54.....................Emory Poynter: Narwhal 55.....................Milo McGehee: I’ve Lost My

Mouth, and I’m Happy 56-57...............Haley Henderson: Rose 58.....................Eva Levi: Unfinished Projects 59.....................Emma Lassiter: Black Canyon 60-61...............Kaleigh Thomas: Egypt 62.....................Dahye Kim: Dum Spiro Spero 63.....................Alisha Duvall: Dreaming Forever After

Inside Front Cover: Emma Lassiter Inside Back Cover: Emma Lassiter Inside Artwork: Elizabeth Strickland

Reverie

Volume Nine Two Thousand Seventeen 02

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Alisha Duvall

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05

Madison Davis

Metal Music

By Emma Lassiter

Carry me away in the beat, Float away on the riffs.

Ride the melody.

Hear the raw vocals.

As the volume gets louder, I become smaller.

Become a part of the song, Feeling myself in the music.

Bask in the music.

Let go of inhibitions, And feel the music.

Feelings no longer hidden.

Letting go of the illusion that everything’s okay.

The sound of letting go.

A curtain lifted to unveil something real.

Let your fingers interpret the beat.

Nod your head.

Tap your toes.

Close your eyes.

Sway to the beat and Get lost in the music.

Metal music, fill my head.

Take me away On a journey of sound.

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Feel the pain.

Feel the anger.

Feel the hurt.

Feel the sadness.

Feel it all.

Bask in having something raw.

Something rough, Not artificial.

Not cleaned up Or fake.

Raw emotion.

Vulnerability.

Exposure.

A voice to say When we’re not okay.

Lucy Paul

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Grove

By Brooke Elliott The grove in spring was a watercolor, With diluted pastels and pink flower-odor, A circle of trees, adorned with buddings, Tiny blue fairies unfurling their wings.

The grove was, in summer, acrylic, Lush and curved and bright and idyllic, A thick ring of trees, blossoms bursting, For the last gentle rain their flowers thirsting.

The grove was mosaic in fall, The forest floor distended, a discarded shawl, The trees replacing the last of their green As the grove took on an orange-red sheen.

At last, in winter, the grove was charcoal, Lines sharp and rough, the grove an ivory bowl, Tree shadows, pale gray on new fallen snow, Sentinels waiting for flowers to grow.

And yet, through the seasons, it’s still the same grove, A hollow in the forest, a quiet alcove, Where animals are born and animals die, A grove as seen through an artist’s eye.

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Alexa Strauss

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The Resting Sun

By Alexa Strauss and Annie West As the sun laid down its head to rest The birds sang a lullaby from their nest Color splashed against the canvas hill As I watched from my windowsill Like a painting the sky glowed with color The clouds reflected a hue, just a shade duller The peaceful sky turned dark for the night And the glistening fields dreamed of light The sun disappeared behind the horizon The moon comes out, day’s watchful son

Braden Seale

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12 Ben Gatewood

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Infinite Seashell (or the unfortunate

understanding of joy) Aka. Vardaman

By Milo McGehee I cup my hands and cover my face; All I see is the dark blended with slivers of warm, homely light.

I pretend that I am unborn, in the womb of a fish.

Then, I remove my hands and stare into the sun, Scalding and scorching my corneas, Replacing the warmth of black with the shocking chill of color My eyes becoming pools of copper and sulfur.

Water rushes around me, comforts me, and lulls me into some sort of private heaven

I curl my fingers together,

While I breathe the mixture of hydrogen and oxygen.

My hand becoming a pearl seashell Curling into infinity for one moment.

Coral cuts my feet Scales scrape my wrists

The infinity comforts me.

Kelp wraps around my head.

The ocean is infinity.

I need the ocean.

(above I can feel the too bright light break through the too cold water,

I run into the pond in my backyard

interrupted by the shadows of countless fish,

Trying to find my mother.

all alike on the inside

I can only find a toad (and half a cigarette.)

and out.

Differing only in direction

I lay underwater with flowers swirling around my head

feeding upon one another in a great wheel

While I curl my body into an

rainbow fish on fire because of the rainbow gasoline

Infinite seashell.

and the too warm light) I cup my hands and cover my face.

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15 Mary Claire Patton

Drinking Silence’s Poison

By Alisha Duvall

Drinking Silence’s Poison Simmering troublesome thoughts Shaking my head, while I lie in my bed Hoping that every thought rots Checking cheap time and its burdens Listening to the worries it babbles Dining with Panic, as Panic goes frantic Indulging in grumbling gabbles Then I’m finally enveloped in sweet sleep And a surprising dream overwhelms me I’m rowing around With my head on the ground Asking a duck to stay for tea

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London Jones

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18 Haley Henderson

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The Game

By David Davila

El Partido

Por David Davila

The country needs a hero,

El país necesita un héroe,

And no one believes it is possible.

Y nadie lo cree posible.

Everyone feels it in their hearts

Todos lo sentimos en el corazón

That the game is almost a religion.

Que el partido casi es religión.

When we wear the flag,

Cuando llevamos la bandera,

And we love our land,

Y amamos nuestra tierra,

The stadium seems like a drum

El estadio es como un tambor

For the players, an honor.

Para los jugadores, un honor.

The nervousness of leadership,

Los nervios del liderazgo,

Triumph is the first step

El triunfo es el primer paso

With sweat on the skin,

Con sudor en la piel,

The rivalry is real.

La rivalidad es real.

In the street, the designs

En la calle, los diseños

Indicate the best dreams

Indican los mayores sueños

For the world, a field

Por el mundo, un campo

Forever a reminder.

Para siempre un recuerdo.

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21 R J Rice

Autumn Twilight

By Samuel Rhee

As I hang my legs over the edge,

My heart keeps the rhythm,

A light breeze sweeps over me

And the people that I love flash by.

Like a tide that rolls over a frigid shore,

I grasp for my mind

Gently sweeping backwards,

As it tries to fly into the aether.

Exposing the things lying just below the sand

I dig my feet in

And leaving them to be touched by the sun.

My soul sings harmony

There, they are revived And rise up to meet the day.

In this quiet frame of mind, I sing a song of autumn And its soft shades And how they fade from green to red And color the sky As its native lights rise

And try not to get carried away by the wind.

Accompanied by the rustles of the grass.

The day is long, My temper is short, And the twilight is patient.

My heart is hot, The breeze is cool, And the twilight gives me rest.

To signal the dawn And stain the clouds in blood-red warmth.

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Alice McCormick

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Sarah Reddick

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<Future>

By Dahye Kim I have waited, been frightened, and forgotten, but all of the sudden you came.

Whom I wouldn’t expect to come surprised me, saddened me,

<미래 > 너를 기다리다 너를 무서워하다 너를 잊어 버리고 어느새 나의 앞에 왔다. 올 것 같지 않던 너는 나를 놀래키고는 섭섭한 마음만 남긴채 또 날 지나간다.

and left me again.

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Ben Gatewood

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I Took a Walk in the Woods Once

By Harrison Shelnutt I took a walk in the woods once I take the same path every time No deviations This time I crossed into a clearing And found a house that shouldn’t be there It had a kitchen that didn’t belong And two chairs that weren’t right Food that couldn’t still be warm And now a visitor that had no business there

I think I’ll stay a while I’m in no rush The woods will be there when I return The house not so much A visitor became a resident A basement became a home And a home became an empty clearing I haven’t taken a walk in many years Occasionally I hear a free spirited person

It had a basement that couldn’t possibly be unlocked Looking for a deviation And a trespasser who shouldn’t have found out Maybe I’ll set out the other chair I took a walk in the woods once

And add to my collection

I take the same path every time Except this single deviation That finally led me home I no longer take walks in the woods I have a kitchen all to myself An extra chair for my feet And a hot meal waiting to be eaten A basement full of previous visitors Waiting to add to its collection

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Maggie Jones

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A la Madre Tierra Por Micaylah Thomas

Lo siento cuando me duermo con la luz encendida Cuando sé que ahorrar la energía le trae alegría Lo siento cuando paso todo el día manejando Cuando sé que contamina su halo azul de cielo Lo siento cuando me ducho por horas Cuando sé que se roba el agua de sus fuentes Lo siento cuando utilizo la taza poli estireno extruido Cuando sé que se quedará en usted como un parásito Lo siento porque yo sé mejor Lo siento porque yo sé que sufre Mi excusa es que soy solo un ser humano Pero yo le prometo, Madre Tierra, le amo

To Mother Earth

By Micaylah Thomas

I am sorry when I sleep with the light on When I know that saving energy brings you happiness I am sorry when I spend all day driving When I know that it contaminates your blue halo I am sorry when I shower for hours When I know that it steals the water from your sources I am sorry when I use a styrofoam cup When I know that it remains on you like a parasite I am sorry because I know better I am sorry because I know that you suffer My excuse is that I am only human But I promise, Mother Earth

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Anna Lien

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Lily Warren

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Always

By Ella Claire Moore The air is always moving The water, always rearranging No river the same No finger print as curved No day the exact lesson Even if you go over the same question Your view may change Or rearrange Nothing is the same but similar There is always difference She doesn’t change Because she’s stuck in the abyss So people don’t notice she exists The word same can never stay the same Same Same Same But same can be similar

34 Alisha Duvall

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What It Means To Live Free

By Anna Campbell Inside the walls we walk To find our places behind doors, in desks we do not wish to sit in With people whom we don’t always find desirable.

But we have no choice in the matter; it’s mandatory, Every single math, science, and history class will somehow help you When you are doing your taxes.

Why don’t we ever learn what it costs to be living free?

Where is my lesson on how to pay my growing number of bills?

Or where I am supposed to buy my groceries?

I hope that someone will hear my plea and teach me a thing

36Or two about living free.

Maggie Jones

37 Kobi Greer

Be Yourself

By Gabrielle Rancifer Catch your breath; slowly take it all in.

Peer from the outside; want to get in.

Achieve a different Look; a different smile; but it is never who you are.

Now, take a look around, are you safe and sound.

Scared to be Myself; because if I be Myself, they will not let me in.

Both you and I do not need to be scared; Scared to be Yourself.

Does it matter, in the end; what They think anyways.

Then again; life is life and personality is personality; I must make it my own style.

You must make it yours.

Be Yourself.

38 Chloe Gehring

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The Reason for Language

By Emma Lassiter

C’est plus amusant quand tu ne marches pas trop vite! I thought to myself as I stared at Camille’s back, walking directly behind her a few paces as we hiked up the mountain. It’s more fun when you don’t walk so fast!

When Michel asked if I wanted to go up the volcano by foot, I said yes, not realizing how steep it would be. There were lots of tourists, so I assumed it was going to be a beginner-level, non-athletic hike. It was not. “Le Puy de Dome is the tallest volcano in our region,” my French host family had been telling me for weeks. I had been fantasizing about my romantic hike, picturing myself on top of a mountain at one with the French outdoors, my host family the only people in sight for ways off into the distance. The Puy de Dome was not exactly what I had been expecting. For starters, there was a train ride to the top. What kind of a mountain has an option to get to the top that doesn’t involve hiking? I was even more disillusioned to find out that there was a gift shop and a restaurant on top. “Ça va?” my host dad, Michel, kept asking me as we went up. I would reply that I was alright.

“C’est dur, eh?” he would ask me.

“C’est dur, mais pas trop,” I would reply with determination. It’s hard, but not too hard.

The trail before me wound up the side of the volcano, gray with loose gravel. My host sister, Camille, was taking long strides, disproportionate to her small figure. I wondered if everyone could tell that I wasn’t from there as I walked alongside my host family. I stood significantly taller than my host dad, and the only thing “French” about my clothes was the rooster on the hat I was borrowing. My blue Asics with neon yellow accents didn’t feel like as good of a choice in France as they had when I was packing. Here I was surrounded by hiking boots on the mountain and white Adidas around town. Everyone had them.

Teenagers, children, men, women. Everyone. Except me. Here I was hiking in my Nike shorts and T-shirt, wondering why more women didn’t wear T-shirts in France and internally cursing Europeans for their muted-color fashion choices. Wearing what I would consider a cheerful splash of color at home seemed flamboyant here.

Once on top, we stopped at the restaurant so that Camille could get something to eat. She ordered a crêpe filled with sugar, but I stuck with a cold bottle of water. I did try a bite, though, and can now say that the first crêpe I tasted in France was on top of a volcano. I recall the taste of a floppy, warm pancake filled with crunchy sugar as I soaked in the view and rested my tired legs. After having a snack, we walked around the paths looking for good picture-taking opportunities. I snapped shots of the green mounds in the distance, each one its own dormant volcano in a region full of volcanoes. A few villages were seen below, easily identified by their matching red rooftops.

As we were walking, a stranger asked me, “Pouvez-vous prendre un photo?”

I was ecstatic to understand what I was being asked and replied that I would take his picture with an eager “Oui!” He was telling my host dad that he was from “Australie” when I got excited.

“Je suis américaine!” I replied, excitedly letting him know that I too spoke the same language.

He seemed relieved and happy to have someone to talk to.

“So you, too, come a long way from home,” he told me. Out of habit I replied to his English with my French. I was so excited to meet a real-live Australian. I had never heard people speak with Australian or British accents before coming to France.

That moment seemed amazing to me. It summed up exactly the purpose of language and the reasons for choosing to learn a new one. To connect. Language allows me to connect to people who I wouldn’t be able to communicate with otherwise. Here I was, an American teenager talking to an Australian in French, and it was amazing. It made the frustrating moments seem worth it. I walked away with a bounce in my step, feeling invigorated by the encounter. These moments were the reason for my exchange. Moments exactly like this.

We ascended the volcano, sweat beginning to seep as the hot sun beat down on us. “Tu veux quelque chose manger?” Camille asked, offering me something to eat. We sat down on a bench, taking in the view as we sipped applesauce out of pouches. Funny how silence becomes more comfortable when you’re speaking a different language. I’ve never been with friends for periods of silence like the ones I had in France. It was like Camille and I had an understanding. Because it took so much effort to express myself, we didn’t have to fill all of the empty spaces with conversation. They simply remained empty spaces.

Once Michel caught up to us on the trail, we continued the trek, frequently pausing so that I could take pictures of the hazy rolling hills and clusters of villages becoming smaller as we got higher. Men would pass us by, rolling their bikes up the trail as they had given up on riding the whole way up the steep trail. I wonder what they thought when they heard Camille and I talking. She would say something to me in English, and I would reply in French with what I know must have sounded like a foreign accent to their ears.

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Glitch Girl

By Olivia Moore Why does it feel like that?

You’ve been asking all your life Why you get a buzzing, howling cavern in your chest With your little diamonds of pain twinkling inside.

Why does it make your stomach clench Like its squeezing every last demon out of you?

Whose fault is it, then, That you can’t breathe?

Who could tell a god That it was okay To stitch all the wildness of a forest fire and all the death of a hurricane

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Into a little girl’s DNA?

Elliott Solis

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End of an Era

By Elizabeth Strickland If it does not help you, set it free.

If it does not better you, set it free.

If it does not teach you, set it free.

If it does not love you, set it free.

Holding on will hurt you, disappoint you, anger you, weaken you.

Let it go like a lantern into the sky.

Watch it go like a train down the tracks.

Feel it go like a coin down a wishing well.

Hear it go like a song into the wind.

Releasing will free you, lift you, relieve you, strengthen you.

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Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s time to move on.

Madelyn Odle

45 Soon you will see, it was already gone.

Mi Lugar Feliz

My Happy Place

Los armarios de madera están llenos de álbumes de fotos,

The wooden cabinents are filled with photo albums,

Hay un gran número de películas en los estantes,

There are a large number of films on the shelves,

Por Madison Davis

Algunos son de fecha clásicos, mientras que otros son completamente nuevos.

Mientras que las obras de arte cubren las paredes; Obras llenas de gente de color.

While others are brand new.

While works of art cover the walls; Works full of people of color.

Burgundy pillows and blankets

echar en los sofás como una cama sin hacer,

To throw on the couches like an unmade bed,

Y la gran mesa de café en el centro de la sala permite un reposapiés,

And the large coffee table in the center of the room allow a footrest,

Sin embargo, cuando se mueve alrededor,

However, when you move around,

Una máquina tragaperras antigua se encuentra en un pedestal, una gran cantidad de monedas de cinco centavos brillar en el contenedor bote.

Un pequeño reloj en la habitación oculta por encima de una puerta del armario,

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Some are dated,

almohadas y mantas de color burdeos

la gran alfombra oriental debajo de ella se desordena.

Braden Seale

By Madison Davis

Cuando la habitación está completamente en silencio, uno puede oír de relojería por.

The great oriental rug beneath it is disordered.

An old slot machine is on a pedestal, A lot of pennies shine in the pot container.

A small clock in the room hidden above a closet door, When the room is completely silent, One can hear the time ticking by.

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The Life of a Sunset

By Lily Radtke and Sophie Reynolds The moon takes his first breath, As dawn dies her sorrowful death.

Violet, blue, red, orange, and gold, People watch young and old.

They come together all as one As the sun shows a symbol of a day well done.

Gasps of the people, amazed by the sight, The red ball of fire burning so bright.

The moon comes up, the stars his crown, The sounds of day die slowly down.

The shadows grow long as night creatures come out, Owls screech like a personâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s shout.

The stars wink, the sun cries As she sinks down to her great demise.

A big yawn to end the day, The time of rest signals the close of hard work and play.

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Lauren Whitehead

Caroline Harrelson

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51

A Place

By Morgan Davis A place where summers are dry and cool, and winters are wet and cold.

A place where snow falls in the mountains, and rain falls in the city.

A place that is remote in the middle of a body of water.

A place thatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s only disrupted by a lawn mower twice a year.

A place that only few know exist.

A place that has a ferry to get to.

A place where at night the only light is the moon and stars.

A place where the animals roam freely with no fear of being harmed.

A place where a family can get away from society.

A place full of adventure.

A place where outdoor work is always needed to be done.

A place that has the most beautiful view.

Of the most beautiful mountain, and the most beautiful body of water.

A place only disturbed by the sound of a radio. the sound of the wind blowing through the trees the sound of the birds in the day, and the sound of the waves crashing at night.

A place that when left is always a joy to return to.

A place that will always be there.

A place to call a home away from home.

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53 Emma Lassiter

I’ve Lost My Mouth, and I’m Happy

By Milo McGehee

Birds live in my mouth Because I have not closed it my entire life (and I love them.)

They chirp Which is more poetic than any syllable I could ever utter.

Their nest is made Of old teeth and gum tissue. please don’t leave i don’t want to have a voice again i only want to be the voice of nature and maybe just maybe the voice of god I don’t know what kind of birds they are.

I don’t know if they are birds.

What if I am a bird inside someone’s mouth (and they love me.)

54Emory Poynter

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56

57

Haley Henderson

Unfinished Projects

By Eva Levi

My life is built out of unfinished projects I fill page after page with meaningless nothings determined that each word is remembered I read, watch, believe something inspirational and I’m set on making a difference in this world and then I sit back and fall into the same old routine: focusing more on the superficial trash than on the things that truly matter in this insular hellhole we call a world I want to be the definition of perseverance, but I can’t get past my own roadblocks I can’t find a way to express the hopeless cycle we’re all convinced we live in and if we all believe it, does it become true?

If we don’t trust that somehow, we as a species can save ourselves from burning in an inferno of our own creation how can we even begin to evolve into something worth saving?

58

59 Emma Lassiter

Kaleigh Thomas

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61

Dreaming Forever After

By Alisha Duvall

Swiftly swimming through the galaxy’s space Violet eyes and a golden brown face Ruby nose She’s an angel, I suppose Floating through thick sticky tricky liquid quick With a dip of her hip and a bite of her lip She braces herself for the nice long trip Daringly dancing in a crispy crème dream Falling and flying in the haze of the theme Abruptly it stops The illusion pops Wide-eyed and awake Awake from the sensation I’m so far from the realm So I pause for contemplation

Dahye Kim

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