Hinds CC Creative Writing, Music Survey classes partner for project

Posted by Rick Melancon on Wed, May, 09, 2018 @ 11:05:00 AM

In PR Department

Inspiration comes from everywhere.  In an effort to create creativity among the students on the Raymond campus of Hinds Community College, creative writers from Rick Melancon’s ENG 2133 Creative Writing I and II collaborated with musicians from Amy Jones’ MUS 1123 Music Survey class.  The hope was to not only showcase the talent of our student population but also to inspire their work as they continue their academic careers.

At first, students in the music department provided music for the creative writers.  As the musicians practiced their pieces, the writers worked on short stories, poems, or plays inspired by what they heard.

Below is a sampling of their work.  Some writing directly referenced the performances of the musicians while others just used the music as fodder for their imaginations.

Included are written pieces by Ke’londa Magee, Morgan Munn, Aaliyah Franklin, Candace McKenzie, Cecilia Akin, Mary Woodruff, Christopher Williams, Scentrellis Dixon and Jacob Cockrell with musical selections performed by Kayla Hewitt, William Cohen, Logan McVan, Kayla Shoemaker and Corey Archibald.

The sentences in maroon are actually audio files that you can click on and listen to or download. Use the back arrow to return to the blog post.


 The Swan perf.. by Corey Archibald



8th Period

by Ke’londa Magee

“Wait a minute; I’m confused.”

“When are you not?”

“No need to be so rude about it,” I say to her as I lower my hand from the air. It’s not like I’m unaware of my confusion; I just said that I’m confused. Isn’t this what we’re supposed to do when we don’t understand something in class? I don’t get why she always gets so upset with me about it.

“What do you want, Ms. Collins?” So formal. She acts like she hasn’t been my English teacher for the past three years. “So did the chick actually cheat on him, or was homeboy just trippin’ the whole time?”

“This is English class, Ms. Collins. Speak as if you knew the language.” She rolls her eyes as her pen taps against the cold steel desk. The chipped olive-green paint that was probably a fresh coat when she first began teaching here fell to the ground piece by piece, along with her patience. “Although, I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t.” Honestly, she wastes more time than I do with her sass.

“Did the young lady actually cheat on her lover, or not?” I huffed as I leaned back in my seat. The other students began packing up their belongings as the bell rang, marking the end of another day of contradictions. Seriously though, how can she ask us to participate in class, then get annoyed when we do? The confusion she causes may be more infuriating than my own, really.


 Sonata in A minor Mvmt. III perf. by Kayla Shoemaker


Cyclops’ Chase

By Morgan Munn

To be chased through the forest

Given hardly any time to rest

A need to sleep shows

But the chase doesn’t slow

a tired soul rests his eye

hearing footsteps, he can’t deny

running, continuing the chase

the forest blurring in his eye unable to fall with grace



 Romance Celebre perf. by Logan McVan



Dance with Me

by Aaliyah Franklin

She danced, and danced, and danced until her heart’s content...

The music surged through her veins as she twirled and bent...

“Sister! Come with me!”


Her younger sister watched her, perched on the low night stand in the corner...

Longing, just for once, to be her sister’s dance partner...

She finally got the chance, but she didn’t move...


“You want to dance with me?”

She asked herself that question over and over again...

But still couldn’t bring herself to believe it...


The older sister turned to look at her timid sibling...

She stopped and reached out her hands, smiling...

“Sister! Come dance with me!”


The younger sister grabbed her hands...

Then stood herself up slowly from the night stand...

“Mama told you about sittin’ on that thing!”


The two sisters soon felt the music surge through their veins and they began to

twirl and bend...

They danced, and danced, and danced until their hearts’ content...

“Sister! I love when you’re with me!”


 Etude 5 perf. by William Cohen


Dancing With My Heart

by Candace McKenzie

the rhythm enters his soul

he curves his body

swaying side to side

in the arch of a majestic cobra

time takes a step back


it’s only us facing one another

moving in a different language

the hearts of two people

would feel

and respond to

without any hesitation


hips rock

to the dreamy beat of the music

face greets his seductive grin

rolls his shoulders

slow and gentle

in calm, receding waves

I talk back

head tilted, body thrusts forward

he pulls me in

confident hands clasp mine


melting into a calm trance

with hearts dancing-

perfect harmony



Golden Polka

by Cecilia Akin

my mind races

as the lights go down

the music starts

my thoughts stop

quick feet slide

across the floor

I sigh;

the graceful dancers distract me

my eyes

follow their bodies

legs faster, arms faster, eyes faster

the music swells

goosebumps form

the dancers begin to blur—


It's over.

my thoughts being again


 Clarinet Concerto #3 perf. by Kayla Hewitt



by Mary Woodruff

there’s a Baby sliding down

on the back of a camel.

if a butterfly flits by Cara’s nose,

the spray puts fires out.

when she stomps the mantle quakes.

when she spits it forms an oasis.

on the whole Cara is a careful creature,

unless you bother her Baby boy.

then she’ll treat your braincase —

like a staircase.



Simple Love

by Christopher Williams


Let the evening rain caress

Let the evening rain fall upon your head with cool liquid drops.

Let the evening rain sing you a melody

The evening rain makes rippling mirrors on the sidewalk

The evening whispers rushing sighs in the gutter

The evening rain plays a soft beat upon our roof at night

And I love the rain.


A Hunters Dream

by Scentrellis Dixon


shifting shadows shuffle swiftly

he stalks the streets dim lit lights

a wolf lurking out for prey

grey eyes search the night 

the life of hunting he will never wring from

a lust for blood he cannot overcome


often adventuring aimlessly

Amy’s tries to escape

her eyes finally catch the ominous shape

the end has become clear

her heart, it shakes in fear

the light of this world bleed to black


she fights back but it’s too late

his arm wraps around the frame, to seal her fate

a frown across her face as she fades into the night

screeching silently, Death sings his song

a smile across his face as he fades off into delight

the hungry hunter hurries off anonymously


Scarlet King


Jacob Cockrell








The sun slowly peaks over war torn rooftops. Falling snow gathers on the black marble streets that are littered with remains of the once beautiful neighborhood.




WAR IS OVER! it reads through the dirt and wrinkles. The wind intensifies up and picks the newspaper away into the street.


Over the hill, a figure stumbles its way into the street. A scruffy, overweight, middle-aged man that can barely keep his bloodshot eyes open. Each step he takes is not to walk, but to keep from falling over. He bears a fine scarlet robe that is struggling to hold in his massive figure as he bumbles along.




The man continues his journey along until the bottle sends him into the air.


BOOM. He comes down with a thundering crash.


He lets out a deep sigh that is filled with more irritation than pain.






The windows are the only source of light in the room. Bullet holes and grenade shards distort the beautiful craftsmanship of the furniture.


People emerge from the darkness and start peeking through the windows to the man laying down in the street.




The man's movements are slow and weak. As he leans his head up his gaze falls upon the green bottle. Hope fills his eyes. He scrambles over to pick up the bottle and quickly tries to take a drink. Empty.


He raises the bottle up high above his head, hoping something will fall out. Nothing. He shakes it. Nothing.


Grunting he throws the bottle. CRASH.





Down the street people start coming out of the buildings. A variety of different people, they all look like they have not taken a bath in months. They all stare at the man as he tries to get up.


He gets halfway before stumbling back down in pain. The people slowly form a crowd around the man.


Out of the crowd a little boy, dirty like the others, carries him a bowl of water to him.




His face is seasoned with war. Burn scars, and stress has weighed down his features.


Joy fills his smile as he takes the boy's water. He drinks it with gratitude.


The people come around him and support him to his feet, and help him down the street, all laying hands on him.


Through the crowd you see a torn poster on one of the building's walls. It has the man, younger and way more fit, dressed up in uniform. Bold red print reads FOLLOW YOUR KING TO DEFEND OUR HOME.


As he continues to walk along the sun comes up and starts shining on him and through the street. The people follow him, with the boy leading the crowd.


His journey ends when he walks up to a rich palace with fine architecture. The sun glistens off the crimson paint and bronze metal. The countries flag is flowing softly in the wind.  The man gazes at it with pride.


He enters the gate surrounding the palace. As he gets closer he falls down suddenly.




The man is kneeling down in a graveyard. In front of him are two tombstones.





June 24, 1920 - April 4, 1944



August 7, 1938 - April 4, 1944




His shoulders slump in defeat as he starts to cry.


The crowd of people are standing still outside the palace's gate.


Snow continues to fall.




You see the line of people running down the fence. Out of the line steps out the little boy.


He comes up to the man and pats him on the back. The man stops crying and turns around with eyes still wet. He gives a faint smile to the boy and stands up.


With the boy right beside him he looks out to the crowd.


The crowd, all with smiles, looks back in reassurance.