The Spartan Spark a magazine of the arts

Spring 2017

Community School of Davidson

Davidson, North Carolina

Editors: Conor Swift-Christian, Peyton Freeze, Madeleine Wright, and Anna Lorey
photo by Isabella Dyson

untitled by Analise Ney

I wish you didn’t care what other people thought, but you do.

And because you do, we can’t be happy.

Don’t you realize that the happiest people don’t care.

They’re in a bubble, their own little world,

Just the two of them

And it doesn’t matter.

Of course their happiness will be misunderstood,

It couldn’t be happiness without misconception, only they know.

Others judge, yes,

But they don’t know.

What makes happiness, happiness is that they don’t care, because they’re in a bubble,

Their own little world,

And I’m in mine,

Without you, because you do.

photo by Luke Woodward

untitled by Anonymous

Whose day breaks away yet I stay and lay here without time or concern of a dime

Stepping away is the worst part of my day when I sit here pondering nature's rhyme

Trees sway in a way I can't describe

Imagination is the key to feel alive.

photo by Sophie Dyson

Ocean by Elis Gianopoulos

The salty air greets me with a misty spray

Gulls make their way as they let out a call

Crashing of waves mix in with their song

The ocean is full of surprises

As a whale takes its deep breath of air

You can hear its hum calling out for its young

Tiny footprints are left in the sand

Marking the arrival of small shorebirds

They flock in large numbers along the shore

Though so quickly they disappear into the vast blue sky

The tide slowly starts to rise as the sun starts retreat

My time here is now done it's time to go home

The vast ocean is then greeted by the moon

See you tomorrow old friend I say with a smile

My time here is over, see you in a while.

photo by Luke Woodworth

Filmy Green by Emma Rizo

The soothing warm air

heavy with moisture

begging me to stay awhile.

It so gently pushes me

to let my worries drip to the ground

and into a pool at my toes.

Glassy smooth tiles

become slippery on my feet.

And then it’s all swept

straight into a tea bag,

so natural and sharp

but sweet when mixed with honey.

The lingering scents

of essential oils;

lavender, gardenia,

all kinds of flowery sweetness.

All going in through my nose

and drowning my thoughts.

photo by McKenna Wieten

untitled by Greyson Lorey

Captain crunch creates a crisp crackling crunch

Chomp and chew the sugary crunchy taste

Chase it with a mouthful of milk

Click and clank of the spoon in the bowl as

I create my cereal capture

photo by Addison McKee

untitled by Hannah Mullis

Jupiter felt his heart drop as he saw Sol fall from where he had been engaged in an aerial fight with Al Nar, a star with three hundred eighty times his power. “Sol!” was all Jupiter was able to yell as he ran to catch the falling star. Jupiter came just in time to stop his best friend from hitting the ground. Sol’s once regal looking tunic was now torn and burned, the left sleeve was completely torn off, and the right had been charred off from the elbow down. “Sol? Come on wake up!” Jupiter pleaded. “Come on, we can’t do this without you.”

The sound of Ganymede and Callisto warping over closer in their usual puff of smoke caused Jupiter to jerk his head up, “No! Stay back! He’s created a power field to siphon off some of the strain while he is unconscious, I can sense it! It is at least two times more than I give off normally, it will crush the two of you!”

“Will you be OK?” Ganymede called from where he stood, not daring to take a step closer. “Should we get help?”

“I’ll be OK. As for help, try to get Sirius to take care of Al Nar or at least hold him off for a while,” Jupiter called back as he lowered his gaze to Sol again .

“What about Sol?” asked one of the twins. Jupiter did not catch which.

“I’ve got a plan! Just go!” Jupiter replied waving the two on without looking up. The sound of the twins leaving reached Jupiter's ears as he lowered his hand. Jupiter closed his eyes and tried to remember every detail of the binary star dance that he had seen Sirius perform countless times. “I can do this,” he muttered before shaking his friend's shoulders, “Hey, Wake up. I got an idea, come on.”

Sol opened his eyes halfway and grimaced, “Jupiter?”

“Yeah, Look I’ve got an idea, you know the binary dance?” Jupiter prompted.

“For binary stars? Yeah, of course I know it. Why?” Sol’s voice was quiet and sounded strained.

“If we can pull it off it will heal you and refocus your power...” Jupiter starited.

“Jupiter you're not a star. There is a good chance that trying to do something like that would kill you,” Sol interrupted.

“I’m willing to risk that.”

“And your moons? What will they do if you die?” Sol asked doing his best to maintain firm eye contact.

“I’ve got moons as powerful as Taira and Vinas, some are more. They can take care of themselves,” Jupiter then added in a determined voice, “Now let’s do this!”

Sol looked to the side for a moment then nodded and Jupiter helped his friend stand, leaning his weight on him.

“Ok, ready?” Asked Jupiter. Sol nodded and Jupiter began to spin the two of them around. First in small slow circles letting them grow ever so slightly each turn. The more they turned, the farther away Sol could stand until the two were nearly an arms length away. Jupiter felt a smile cross his lips as he felt the ground leaving his feet heels first, until only the tips, of his toes were touching the ground, and then nothing.

The color returned to Sol’s face and a determined flash in his eyes, “Let go. I’m ok now,” he whispered.

Jupiter gave the same big goofy smile that he had used when they were kids, “That’s the only important thing.” He let go and landed gracefully. He looked up at his friend suspended in the air with his power glowing more than he had seen in years, “Now go on, don’t you have a battle to win?”

Sol smiled and turned his face to the battle still raging above them, “Yeah, thanks” he replied and flew away at an incredible speed.

photo by McKenna Wieten

The Frontier by Isabelle Monvavifar

Water dripping from its sod

Coated in ice so clear

Its beauty flourishing but flawed

The wind brushes its hair

Flying from the moist terrain

Speckles of snow in the air

The crippled flowers lying in pain

The birds escaping the cold

There isn't much left to say

The frosted frontier has taken its mould

Its sky clouded with grey

photo by Micheal Johnson, Jr.

Rays of the Moon by Jason Powers

There comes a time,

A time when the sky is covered with black,

There is no escape from it,

When the black reaches your side of the planet,

You don’t know where to go,

You don’t know what is around you,

But you have to adapt,

You have to feel,

And always watch where you step,

What if you don’t want to?

What if you can’t?

What in the world will you do?

Well that’s just when another time comes,

When in the blackness you see a glow,

And the clouds move around,

Giving you the light,

The one you’ve been looking for,

The white rays of the moon…

photo by Addison McKee

untitled by Sophia Carter

There are things in this world that are so greatly underappreciated. Like the way this huge, glowing

sphere of hot gas makes it possible for life to exist; or how there are billions of human beings living on

this planet, yet not one is the same as another. Then there are the more simple things, such as books.

Books and quotes, both of which I admire. Honestly, you could hold me hostage in a room with nothing

but a lifetime of books to read, quotes to love and a nice cup of tea and I would have nothing to tell you

but: thank you.

Bea Jean Miller is one of those greatly underappreciated things. I stared at her bouncy orange

curls let loose on her pale, freckled back. Her grey-blue eyes focused down at her leg as she doodled

small hearts on the exposed skin of her ripped jeans.

“Stop staring, fool,” She looked up from her knee and gave me a smirk, the right side of her lip

pulling up to her ear, “Why do you stare?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, what’s so interesting?”

“Um, I don’t know.”

“You are an fascinating human, Sammie Piper,” She giggled a little and continued to draw on her

leg. I stared some more, noticing a small dimple on her dotted cheek that appeared when she smiled.

Strangely lovely, “It’s weird, the way life works. I’ve lived in this town my entire life, seventeen years,”

Bea laid on her back, facing upwards at her bedroom ceiling fan, “I walk down the same streets every

afternoon and go to the same grocery store every sunday morning; yet I’ll never see every single human

here. There will always be another person to greet or stranger to shake hands with; and I truly love that.

Life’s so good, man.”

I laid beside her for a couple minutes, watching the fan spin. We both simply thought. Bea

thought of people, and how sad it is that she won’t get to meet every single one and I thought of how out

of all those people that could have been my best friend, I have Bea Jean Miller. The most

underappreciated human to ever exist.

photo by James Bragg

untitled by Madeleine Wright

Frosted windowpanes surround me

Cool raindrops form rivets

Erasing the condensation

I trace my fingers against the damp glass

Write out my name.

As the sun peeks out from behind the clouds

The day isn’t quite so dreary

I squint as the bright yellow light fills my eyes

Bouncing off the pavement.

The reflection blinds me for a second

Glimpses of green and red flashing by

As we speed down the highway.

photo by James Bragg

Independence by Macey Phipps

in a big world

it's a small house

comfort to a little girl

no fear to announce

my mind in a whirl--

pull the beauty

push the sorrow--

like an empty field

i run through tomorrow

that's how we feel

no hesitation for me to borrow

on that rock

his hand i hold

never set a lock

on his humble abode

don't leave me now

i don't need you to cry

don't be shameful

don't be shy

just be grateful

you gave it a try

again, you will walk this hill

don't give up, until

photo by Luke Woodworth

The Barn by Anonymous

To those who planted these endless pines,

Thank you

To those who raised these barbed borders,

Thank you

To those who built this becoming barn,

Thank you

To those who kept these uncountable cows,

Thank you

To the endless rows of pines that provide air to this Earth,

Thank you

To the able borders keeping these cows at bay,

Thank you

To this bold barn which keeps these cows sheltered,

Thank you

To these courageous cows that provide this Earth with food

Thank you

To the one that created these pleasing pines

Thank you

To the one created the resources to build these borders,

Thank you

To the one that created the trees to build this barn,

Thank you

To the one that created these cantankerous cows,

Thank you

photo by Isabella Dyson

Runaway by Anonymous

I look outside my window

And see how the nightlights illuminate

The dark sidewalk,

Almost making it like a mystery

Scene from a movie.

I stand up and go outside,

I feel the cool breeze on my face

I suddenly get this rush

Of excitement

And run upstairs to pack

A bag full of clothes

And my toothbrush and toothpaste.

I head outside and see the railway

Tracks across the street.

I get this feeling of freedom

And I know exactly where I’m going.

photo by Luke Woodworth

Passion by Anonymous

Passion will make you push yourself farther

Passion will cause you to want more

Passion will stretch you to your limits

photo by Luke Woodworth

Dimensions by Kyle DeLay

Oh pencil, you

Have been found.

Discovered where one

Should never be.

Reduced by a

Dimension, atop

The pavement. You

Have faced the

Worst fate. You

Have perished by

My fault. The

Rush to keep

An appointment

caused me

To drop you

Upon the pavement.

The next day

You were uncovered.

Flatten by my

Mother’s tires.

photo by Genna John

The Aftermath by Jenny Truong

The rain is falling hard.

Lightning lights the skies.

Muddy puddles forming on the yard.

The water on the ground travels together like allies.

The rain has stopped.

The sun has come out of hiding.

Looking in the garden where the frogs hopped.

Seeing a Rainbow appear is exciting.

photo by Anonymous

one day by Becca Levi

Sometimes it's hard to come back here.

I never thought that one day

this day would come

the colorful fallen leaves

running through the path

crunching all the fallen leaves

the marks left by the rain

holding my hand as we splashed

through every single puddle we saw

I will be back one day

Nos vemos pronto abuelito.

photo by Jack Allison

Midnight City by Cate Needleman

A midnight city

all to myself.

No one.

Running for no reason

other than to feel


The only light

from a lonesome

street lamp.

Illuminating the street

like the sun

in the day.

Give your mind

to the dark.


Let yourself go

into the


The feeling

of being


Why do we enjoy

the darkness?

Its gripping hands

Holding us.

Surrounding us.

Suffocating us.

Hearing nothing but our breath.

Seeing nothing but black.

Enjoy it to the point

of never wanting

to be jolted.


my old friend, we are alone,

for only in this moment.

So, tell me why.

Why do we enjoy

the feeling of isolation.

Why do we

Enjoy the


You have to


But before you leave me,

and drown me in light,

answer me this,


One simple word with

a million different answers.

My midnight city

all to myself.


photo by James Bragg

untitled by Clarissa Kauppila

The waves crash and fall all day long.

The beach has sweet serenity for those who wish for it.

The wind is always rushing through your hair like water rushing through the sand.

The sun paints my white skin into a golden tan.

The clouds try not to move so the sunshine will stay.

Although they soon crawl away inch by inch.

Everything soon starts to settle down as the day goes by until tomorrow. Earth hold your beauty for us.

photo by Jack Allison

Black Fog by Conor Swift-Christian

The day is cold and bitter like the night

The children run into the streets screaming

Running into the black thick fog tonight

Never heeding the fog that is moving

It reeks of death and lost happy souls

Lurking in the streets against the moonlight

The children skip against the blatant holes

They shine and glisten against the street light

Still never heeding the moonlight woe

The fog expands, eating the night light away

The people watch, watch from their glow

They are smiling as the night turns into day

The fog is coming, waiting for a blow

But the sun is up, so the fear is at bay

photo by Anonymous

Nature by Anonymous

A cruel place




But yet, beautiful

She never seems to disappoint

her creations




photo by John Allison

untitled by Anonymous

The cool dry air of winter contradict its necessity for life, yet its incessant will to live persists.

Its domain scarcely threatened by unworldly creatures unfamiliar with the tropical predator.

Its behavior, existential as it has no self-purpose.

You may ask yourself why such an entity would exist.

Why such a human would desire such a tiny, transforming, tenacious, tropical, treacherous,

truckling creature such as that.

photo by Jack Allison

untitled by Anna Lorey

It always keeps me snug

So i don’t feel like a slug

My best friend is my coffee mug

photo by Jack Allison

Poem by Mark Lee

Super Bowl 51

Tom Brady the prodigal son

Chris Hogan former lax bro

Now he catches Tom’s throws

Patriots for the win

Matt Ryan sucks

Goodell hands Brady the lombardi

Sky and I will party

photo by Luke Woodworth

untitled by Anonymous

The grasp of winter's hands has been softened

The survivors of the freeze are beginning to liven again

It seems the armies of spring have begun their crusade

yet there is still an ominous chill in the air a warning

that winter is not done wreaking its bitter havoc.

The birds have already begun their preparations,

building the structures that will house their fragile offspring.

Squirrels gathering what little food remains

til the cornucopia of spring arrives.

It looks down on us readying its barrage of aqueous bullets.

She cries her tears of joy.

The eyes leaving their tracks across the face of mother earth

she watches her children grow strong and beautiful

They dance and sing in her warm praise

She knows that there are many that will die

so that others may live

They do not know this,

as many small children do not understand

the complexity and fragility of the strings.

Some try to understand it or simplify it, trying to untangle the strings

just making his own strangle him, by trying to understand it all

one may end up questioning everything and trusting nothing

Yet just as fragile as a fern on the side of a cliff

we cling to our beliefs,

the ground our roots are laid in.

Until we grow too heavy and our roots cannot hold us

photo by Anonomous

Uncertainty by Rachel Crawford

a window has been opened

wind surges in, and with it a sense of uncertainty

it takes hold



you struggle for breath as society shatters your spirit

lost but driven

a thrilling burst of energy inspires you

you take a breath

for life is a gift

and when the window opens once more

you are ready

photo by Anonymous

Happy Place by Peyton Freeze

Trickling water and rainbow trees,

This is the place that pleases me.

Around the world in 80 days,

Not for me I’d like to stay.

Creatures from far past the milky way,

Come to visit me for play.

This is my happy place,

This is where I’ll stay.

photo by Anonymous

Losing Breath by Noah Thompson

A sinking feeling of dismay

Engulfs me whole as I struggle

To cognize the wails of the sea as it claws

Through my will to remain conscious

The wails dismember my sparring spirit

I sink, beneath the swells of the sea

Were darkness instills fear within me

As I am tossed mercilessly

As I lose sight of the surface

And of hope

Lower I sink into gloom

Treacherous brutes circle me

Silted eyes meticulously analyze

My dissipating breath

Disdaining me, the glowing orbs

Glissade into obscurity

My senses grow distant

Warmth depletes from my body

And the world as I know goes dark

Breath flows from me

Worms through the sea

Rises above the swells of the ocean

Like I couldn’t do breathing

Into the dreary sky my essence goes

As my carcass now sinks lower

underneath the swells


photo by Anonymous

6th and 7th by Michael Johnson

Never have I thought

that my entire

mood, wardrobe, or reason for


could change in just a year.

Speedy like

“The Quickster”,

how my mindset

on every, single thing is now



perfectly content

with the

cooled blue T-shirt,

in my tiny

Hamden home,

to getting used to my

new, angsty peers,

while hiding in my

new leather jacket.

I once loved the

Cheesy scent

in the kitchen I’ve known for

eleven years.


cheap lavender incense

fills this strange,

but nice location.

Cocky feelings

while wearing my

Aeropostale messenger bag,

transform into

Sadness in my soul,

As I daydream

about going far away.


being one of the most

photo by Anonymous

Poem by Ian Milholland

I feel a cold breeze across my face

and the heat from the sun

beaming through the trees in the woods

It is calm, calm, calm

I can hear the noise of the birds chirping

and the wind brushing the leaves around

Calm, calm, calm.

photo by Anonymous

untitled by Anonymous

The wind blows

The flag flows

Here stands

The greatest of them all


The wind blows

The flag flows

America there she goes

photo by Anonymous

The Porch by Anonymous

Children’s laughter echoes off the tall blue ceiling,

Blue like the sky beckoning bugs to fly away home.

Footsteps in the distance and a jingle of a collar,

Walking in noisy silence along the serene path.

Wrens and Robins flit and flirt in the jasmine vine,

They are so busy yet always seem to find the time.

The steady hum of movement off in the distance,

Why is our world in a constant state of motion?

I am content to sit between the columns out of sight,

Listening to others as they live their happy lives.

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