Lines and Rhymes

2012

Literary Magazine of

James F. Byrnes High School

Duncan, South Carolina

The Literary Club Of

James F. Byrnes High School Duncan, South Carolina

Presents

Lines and Rhymes 2011 – 2012

Sponsors Donna Grant

Elizabeth Bass Julie Dillon

Kathleen Duncan Jamie Gregory

Karen Hill Taleshia Moore

Martha Seay

Literary Club Participants William Cannon, Editor

Dustin Ayers Stephen Her

Austane McCombs

-Cover art by Kimberly Bradley

The Outcasts

We are the outcasts

We are the losers

We are the freaks

We are the ones who will not fall

We are the mysteries that can’t be solved

We forge our own tombs when we walk into a room

We are the outcasts

We are the losers

We are the freaks

We are the artists in us all

We are the ones who will not crawl

We will not follow trends

No matter what massage you think we send

We are the outcasts

We are the losers

We are the freaks

We may stick out like sore thumbs

And in society some might call us dumb

We are not robots and all that matters

No matter how far we scatter

We are the outcasts

We are the losers

We are the freaks

- Matthew Figueiredo

-Artwork by Caleb Falls

In the Forest: A Tribute to Faunus

As the morning fog meets the dew,

I smell the forest.

It draws me in, like a cry for help in the dark.

I see but one thing at attention in the forest,

A single tree, with arms beckoning to persuade.

As I approach the tree, I feel its fear.

Then I see the scars.

Fellow animals watch me from a distance,

Apprehensive of my presence.

Being watched, I place my hands on the bark.

Warm.

The roots of the tree run deep,

Flowing in the same direction as the scars.

Wanting to turn back I am held by the tree’s pain,

Taken back to a time,

When there was once thriving life here, in the forest.

But this forest has no more life.

As the morning fog lifts and the dew dries,

I smell the embers.

In the forest.

-William Cannon

Sonnet 1

Here your beauty is oft overlooked

As your stature is kin to a cricket

Your smile pervades my darkness so crooked

Through your eyes lies beauty’s gilded ticket

Falling in black gloom my soft heart did die

‘til finally your love could bring me back

Forever shall my love for you ring true

To me your beauty is of ancient lore

My love for you will always be known too

Together we shall be forevermore

From the very first night to the last day

Let our love flourish as it is to stay

-Cody Eldridge

First Everything

The first stare,

The first reaction,

The first thought,

The First word.

The explosion of feelings colliding in the air like a bolt of lightning,

Striking a tree on fire making it burst into raging flames.

Do you hear it?

The roaring of my heart.

Like the flames of the tree it’s screaming to you.

Screaming in love.

Do you hear it?

Can you feel the warmth?

I’m sure if you get closer you will feel that “I love you.”

-Noel Manning

-Artwork by Avery Frost

Where I’m From

I am from mountain peaks

From clear skies and rushing waters

I am from home cookin’

Long talks and fresh pies

I am from winding rivers and waterfalls

Which its white water caps I remember

Like the voluminous clouds in the sky.

I am from scares and sadness,

From broken hearts and hidden healing.

I am from the camera lens

The private romance

I am from long days and quiet nights

I am from separation and slow healings

From hatred and disgust

I am from slow deaths and new bonds

From tragedies and success

In my heart was a space

Leaking old pain

Filled now by gratefulness

As the hurts drifts away.

-Crystal Womack with appreciation to Ron Rash’s Maggie from Saints at the River

Where I’m From

I am from open fields

From tractors and dogs

I am from fields of fescue flowing like my hair

From the tiny prick of the tall pine tree

I am from unknown

To greatly anticipated and celebrated

From the optimistic to the stern

I am from try once to try it again and again

From suck it up, to toughen up

I am from me vs. the world

From insecurity to center stage

I am from a drama queen

And the voice of an angel

I am from struggling to make it on my own

To finding my place in this world

I am from His my savior

From Thy Ten Commandments

And John 3:16

I am from skinned knees

And band-aids

To high heels and dresses

I am from kindness and sharing

From tender hearts

And tough skin

I am from sassy and bossy

To last in line.

I am from rag doll diseases

And kisses that heal

To taking temps and high blood pressure

And hands that comfort

I am from Spaghettios and frozen pizzas

To past alfredo and baby back ribs

I am from McDonald’s happy meals

To Outback’s mac-a-roo

I am from tea parties to block parties

From being on the side lines

To sharing a rebel win

-Lillie Perkins

I’m From

I am the newest generation

I am from inspiration and motivation

I am from those who “can” and from those who “will”

I am from hard workers and high achievers.

I am Grama’s “lil pumpkin”

I am from trees filled with apples, pecans, pears

To gardens harvesting tomatoes, and potatoes the best you can eat.

I am from barrettes and hair-beads.

I am from curling irons and straightening-combs.

I am from fishing hooks, tackle boxes, and live bait.

I am from fried scrambled eggs on a Sunday morning with a side of thick sliced bacon.

Fried to perfection.

I am fro ice cold sweet tea

And Kool-aid on a hot summers day.

From Dixie Crystals and Martha White.

From fried chicken, macaroni, collard greens

And pintos every Sunday at Grama’s.

I am from those who bow their heads

And from those who give Him thanks for our daily bread.

I am from ups and downs

From trials and tribulations

I am from those who weep

For those we’ve lost

And from those who rejoice

For those we’ve gained.

I am from the little white wooden church

In a pasture.

I am from those who shout

And from those who give Him praise.

I am from those who ride together

Until the wheels stop turning.

-Shawneequa Berry

-Jessica Morris

Where I Am From

I am from the smell of the marshes

And the sway of the palm trees.

From the movement of the creek

And the sound of rain.

I am from an athletic background.

From floor burns to volleyball bruises.

From hard work and sweat-

That have paid off in the long run.

I’m from a cancerous background.

From helping for Relay for Life

To walking for a cure.

I’m from fighting like a girl.

I am from traditions and cookie-making.

To the fresh squeezed orange juice.

From Christmas laughter and joy

To the falling white snow.

I am from rollercoaster and screaming

To cotton candy and turkey legs.

From not wanting to leave

And staying where dreams come true.

I’m from an optimistic family,

Believing that “Everything happens for a reason.”

From living your life to the fullest,

To God’s plan for everyone.

That is where I am from.

-Kristen Dodge

-Artwork by Emily Yarborough

Where I’m From

I am from fabric,

From string and presses.

I am from fried chicken,

The animal that my people love.

Am from the brownish-red bird,

That flies over us (day in and day out.)

I am from red clay,

(The soil that made who I am.)

I am from the peaceful,

Yet the crimeful, but happy state.

I am from the people,

That go mud n’ every weekend.

I am from the night,

Where they tackle hard and hit harder.

I am from the “Never quit’s.”

And the “keep going’s.”

I am form the colleges,

Where one dominates the series.

I am from the roads…

Where asphalt meets dirt.

-Evan Durham

Where I’m From

I am from a winding river

Of roast beef casseroles.

Where you run a little slower

And jump a little lower.

I am from parker valley

And the smell of racing fuel,

From working hard and going fast

And steak that does distract.

I am from annoying kudzu,

And long walks to hunting cabins,

And if you listen closely to our song

You better hold your socks

Or I will rock them off.

From sticks and stones

I can build a mansion,

I am mechanically inclined.

But most of all I’m from a place

Where fun is of the mind.

-Gabriel King

Where I’m From

I am from fences

Cold, hard, and chain linked

From gang fights on the corner

I am from weekend trips to the beach

From warm sand beneath my toes

And murky waves crashing on the shore

I am from the resounding slap

Of a basketball against the pavement

I am from scrambled eggs and Law and Order

From summers spend on the opposite coast

I’m from Follow your dreams!

And Get your head out of the clouds!

From don’t slouch! And elbows off the table!

I am from education is worth more than luck

And from learning how hard it can be to trust

I’m from strong ambition and brute honesty

From one family made two

I am from different cities,

Roots that never truly stuck

I am from the books I read to escape

From the camera lens I use to understand my world

I am from ice cream sundaes

Meant to brighten the days

-Briana Da Silva

Where I’m From I’m from the

Written word of Pat Conroy

Leading me through the Southern way,

Representing the Holy City,

Graves where Citadel men lay;

To stand bold and unique

Is to respect the Southern tradition

Which I hope to uphold,

To be a Southern man

Is my intention;

Where I’m from,

“To each his own” –

Is practiced and died for,

Passed on through what I say

From Columbia to Charlotte

Old values are still at play;

To my people,

It is not through the fates,

But the Lord’s will

To be given life

Inside Carolinas’ gates.

-Glenn Shaver

Where I’m From

I am from lectures and logic,

From the lessons taught to me by my elders.

I am from fishing and nature’s green leaves.

I am from my Mother’s guitar strings,

A harmony in which I can only master.

I’m from spaghetti on Friday nights and watching rain fill up a stream.

I’m from “sit down boy!” and “speak up son!”

I am from “the outcast” with good ideas on the mind.

I’m from yard sales and flea markets, never taking a break from setting up furniture.

I am from questioning the media and myself, to realizing in the end that nothing will change.

I’m from the Boy Scouts, knocking on people’s doors selling popcorn and getting ready for camping trips.

I’m from the-avid-reader, and form the-science-nerd,

From the personal study that sparks my interest.

I’m from baking cakes and cooking dinner with grandma

And riding the Harley with my grandpa.

I am from the smell of blooming summer plants in the air, and from playing videogames with Moritz on the weekend.

I am from the heaviest music around, making those with weak stomachs nauseous.

In the end, I am me.

I come from many things, and may I alter them in many ways for I am me.

I may come from peculiar or interesting, but, it’s just me.

–William Cannon

A Sinner’s Cry

Lord, have mercy on my soul.

Heal my heart and make me whole

Rain down on me from up above

And bless me with your endless love

Be my candle in the dark

And put compassion in my heart

Help me with these times

And walk with me in straight lines

Love me, hold me, squeeze me tight

Never let me out of your sight

Save a place for me upon the throne

And when I die, please walk me home

In everything, and all I do,

My Lord, I give my heart to you.

-Kat Elliott

-Rewritten by: Austane McCombs

-Artwork by Melody Ng

Five Years Too Long From Home

Hot burning sun

Glowing bright

The sound of flip flops

Sand between my toes

A slight breeze as the wind hits

The palm of my hands feel the water

Sounds of palm trees rustling

On a small land surrounded by endless seas

I turn around to tan skin, white hair, and wrinkles

I make jokes, I smile

Arms open wide filled with love

And I am happy and content

Smiles from ear to ear

Laughter fills the air

The streets are filled with many

Smell of fresh food and a market full of fruits

Coins clicking as I walk back

The sun begins to set and darkness falls

A waggling tail, dark black fur, blue eyes

Keeps me company as I dream away

Then I awaken, I am home in an empty room

Five years from the, five years too long

-Dhora Washington

-Artwork by Avery Frost

The Color Blue

I hear screaming

Above the surface

Below the surface

A war between the species,

A battle in the name of science.

Twenty harpoons,

The coat tears.

Twenty harpoons,

The whale fights for its life.

Twenty harpoons,

The whale fights for its life.

Twenty harpoons,

The warrior writhes in pain.

Twenty harpoons,

The whale flukes the aggressor one last time.

Silence.

One harpoon,

Below the surface

In the name of science.

-Whaling has become a major problem regarding endangered and protected species. Anti-whaling organizations battle those who say they kill “in the name of science” when they really do it for profit. The

whales are the largest mammals on earth, and before long, we’ll only have elephants.

-William Cannon

-Artwork by Caleb Falls

Arachnophilia

A web here, a web there,

Who knows how long it’s been there?

From dusk till dawn the spider spins,

But not for traps or tricks, it helps to track and stick.

This spider can jump and swing,

With legs powered like a spring.

Without wait, the spider takes the bait

Pouncing and holding, there’s no escape.

Unsheathing the fangs,

The spider’s won the game

Of hide and seek.

-Unlike most arachnids the jumping spider uses its webbing as a safety line, not for catching prey. Jumping spiders kill by pouncing onto the prey and biting within the same second, and during that second

they recoil and wait for the prey to slow down and die.

-William Cannon

Spirit Bear

In the drizzly morning of autumn lied a man named Blackbird. He was a vehement man, that wanted to obliterate the black bears. On the day that he went on his vision quest, he saw a bear. This bear saw Blackbird and then the bear disappeared.

Blackbird did not see the bear completely , so he went to try and see where it went. When he was turning around, he spotted a Black bear. He got close to the bear, but the bear was eating the salmon form the river. He watched the bear go back and forth many times, until the bear noticed him. Blackbird eased away, then went looking for the bear again.

He stumbled upon a carcass of an old fish, he then saw a strange ball, but he didn’t know what it was and he walked past it. He heard something and when he turned back the strange ball opened up and out came a salmon flapping in the air. Beside a Western red cedar tree out came a bear that Blackbird was looking for. It was a White bear, the same on that Blackbird saw.

This bear was a very sage bear, right after he saw Blackbird he started to disappear, then Blackbird named the bear Mooksgm’ol, and the bear liked it. Mooksgm’ol told Blackbird, whenever Blackbird needed him all he had to say was “Mooksgm’ol!” and he would appear. Blackbird changed his ways about killing the Black bears, and Blackbird, the leader of the Critga’at tribe. Since Mooksgm’ol helped the Critga’at tribe when they needed him, they came to call Mooksgm’ol “Spirit Bear”.

-Evan Durham

How the Kermode Bear Kept its Color

Long ago, on an island that is now part of British Colombia, a family of white Kermode bears lived there. They were different from other forest bears, hence their white coat. They all lived in harmony catching salmon, traditional smoking-of-the-pipe, and doing all the things that Kermode bears do.

But one day, a group of ugly black bears came and demanded to have the white bear’s land. There was a huge battle over it because the island can be a sanctuary for any bear, and the result was even. Nobody had won, and it has come time to try a different tactic. The black bears asked the white bears for a meeting. They met and talked, but while they were arguing over land, the chief of the black bears stood up and opened a little furry sack and out came a swarm of nasty flesh flies that love to walk all over dead carcasses of dirty mammals. The swarm of flies engulfed each white bear, blackening them with their filth. All the former white bears panicked and ran off the island, trying to wash the dirt off but it was not possible. When the former white bears tried to return to the island, they were pushed back down into the waves. This made the whole white bear family both sad and frustrated. Then the chief white bear had the idea of asking the Spirit Bear for help, but in order to do that, they must venture to the land of ice, where the whitest of snows always fall.

In this desperate attempt, the whole family agreed. So they went up north (now upper part of Canada), and were stopped in their tracks by a large frozen body of water. This was new to the bears, it frightened them as with any animal exposed to something new. They were so scared to a point where they wanted to give up because of the sheer size of the frozen lake. The chief insisted on moving on, so they did. Very carefully they tiptoed on the ice, with the chill of the cold running up their backs and the eerie sound of faint cracking within the ice below. The group finally reached land, and immediately agreed to take a break. Upon taking a break, they drifted into a deep sleep despite that they only needed to relax.

It had been some time before they awoke, but when they did, they were surrounded by a world of white. The memories of themselves being a unique white struck them in their hearts, and so did the freezing temperatures. It was even colder than before and on top of that the wind was blowing with enough force to hinder the group’s movements. Little did they know that they were caught right in the middle of a snowstorm. The group did not know what direction they were going, so they all stayed huddled together in order to keep one another warm and to not lose anybody.

Catching them off guard, a deep booming voice was heard from all directions and had startle the bears and put them into a defensive mode. “I am the Spirit Bear, you have been searching for me” when the chief white bear heard this, he immediately dropped to his knees and pleaded help from the Spirit Bear. After his begging was over, the snowstorm ceased. Now the sky became clear again and they all could see the magnificent shine off of the Spirit Bear’s white coat. All of the members of the group jumped in to explain to the Spirit Bear what was wrong and how they turned black. The Spirit Bear said “I will empower all of you to be able to overcome the barbaric black bears, but the snowstorm of my creation has permanently colored you white.” At that moment they all looked around in astonishment, noticing that their reattained white coats were whiter than before, and their coats had their own shine and glow just like the Spirit Bear. The white bear group was so grateful, but when they turned around to thank the Spirit Bear, he was gone.

Now with confidence and new strength, they ran all the way back to their island in one day. When the group arrived at their destination, the black bears could not believe that all the white bears had their colors back. This actually intimidated the black bears. Paralyzed with awe, the black bears were attacked by the white bears with an incredible amount of speed. The black bears were finally chased off the island. At last, the white bears had their island back and immediately got to work on recreating their paradise.

To this day, on some occasions a black bear will come to visit on the island, but never again will a black bear challenge a white bear. And this is how the Kermode bear kept its color.

-William Cannon

-Artwork by Caleb Falls