Poetry from Mississippi School of the Arts

Last week, I presented creative writing sessions and Celtic music to the Mississippi School of the Arts. I met so many wonderful and talented teachers and students. One student I met was Jamy Barnes, a fine poet. This post is devoted to her and is the first of several posts I’m going to devote to the students and faculty of the Mississippi School of the Arts.  Here is Jamy’s “official” biography:

Jamy Barnes is a Literary Arts senior at the Mississippi School of the Arts who graced the earth with her presence eighteen years ago. Born to Sonya Taylor and James Barnes, she has a brother and sister whose arguments and antics are constantly giving her new inspiration for pieces of writing. She prefers writing poetry because she can get away with slyly mentioning her infamous purple water bottle in a poem and it will seem like it’s meant to be there. She has a love for pigs and cats, both of which she refuses to eat. After graduation from high school, she plans to attend the University of Southern Mississippi, majoring in Library and Informational Sciences. Her poem “Ireland” was published in the first issue of Aerie International, a literary and visual arts magazine for high school students

“Ireland” by Jamy Barnes

I’ll go to Ireland
When the roses bloom next winter
And the bright red clover grows on the hills
When I go to Ireland
I’ll dance spasmodically in Dublin
With the untamed gypsy lizards
No snakes to worry about
Just that traveling heathen lizard
I’ll go to Ireland
When the dead doves open their wings
And the bright blue ferns create a wonderful bed
When I go to Ireland
I’ll sing praise at the Hill of Tara
With the stubborn purple hedgehog
Laughing in the fuchsia wind
Crying in the orange rain
All the while the few trees will
Groan in their sympathy
Heave in frustration
Let their papyrus leaves fall
To land on me.

Here’s a photo of the featured poet.

One thought on “Poetry from Mississippi School of the Arts

  1. Wonderful! Young people such as Jamy refresh and reassure me that the world will survive. I wish I would have given myself permission to be a poet and to “blow some dandelion fluff” when I was her age…

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