Today we feature talented senior Taylor Street. The 17 year old from Lebanon loves to listen to music and write poetry.
Taylor is a senior at Northern Lebanon. Taylor developed a love for writing in second or third grade she says, and her favorite genre to write is free verse poetry because it allows you more freedom, and nearly no restrictions. Taylor says that she likes to write free verse, “Because you can change the way you write based on your mood.” Like most writers, taylor pulls some of her ideas from what she reads. Her favorite genres to read are horror, drama, and mystery. Taylor currently is enrolled in Mr. Wallace's Creative Writing class where she gets a chance to write daily.
Taylor likes to listen to music as a hobby, and has no preference on the genre.
Taylor's favorite subject is health, and she is considering a psychology or health-related degree in college.
Below are a few of Taylor's poems:
Damage
Vines twisting and crashing through the windows
of a small white cottage in the forest.
No one knows who built it
Because only we know it's here
As we stand
red leaves sputter down
Float onto the porch
And rest
The shutters are red; paint chipping away
revealing green underneath
Dirt is caked around
The hazy, broken windows.
No one can live here
A visit can't hurt
We duck underneath the low, cracked door frame
Sit on the floor and listen to the birds;
Watch the squirrels
The furniture is torn
Stuffing purged from each tear
Springs visible
Frantic words are scribbled hurriedly
Up and down the peeling wallpaper.
A feeling of loss comes
With the secret of this place
An eerie feeling...
We are alone.
A Patient's Song
It's a simple song
The one they sing
Just humming
A few haphazard words
Interjecting
And out of place
You can't write them down
Rarely words
They're thoughts that they took
And made into sound
A thousand years of torment
In a muffled grunt and shake.
Halloween
A child of four or five
In a costume with nothing to fear
But out in the night
Crisp air, dark, and clear
Are the older monsters
Who've done it for years.
Wearing expressions void of all joy and cheer
In masks like skin
Pointed chins, teeth, and ears.
Walking alone in shadows
In pairs, threes and fours
using their claws to tap on the doors
A child dressed as a pumpkin
Just sweet as could be
Holds open the door
he's shocked to see.
People much older
Much larger as well
Who don't look as much people
As creatures of hell.
This boy is a baby
The small, innocent kind
Learning now
There are monsters
In and out of the mind.
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