Poetry chosen for inclusion in Blueprint 2004

Me

Lingering on tremors of midnight blue,
hovering on wavering whispers,
shards of sharp cold,
Plunge into …
tenderness.
Sprinkles of sparkles,
Clamped up closed,
Fragmented flames,
falling into …
Something …
disintegrating into …
me.

Alice Meyer Grade 10

Merry-go-round of love  

They say it won’t fail,
It’s everlasting
It apparently won’t boast,
Nor will it cross its mind to envy any other

It’s an ever-laster
It goes round and round
No angles to agree with
A continuous cycle

But what happens when it gives up, lets up and gets fed up?
When it exhausts itself and becomes insufficient for others,
When it becomes unable to fulfil its duties,
When the wheel stops turning,
The clock stops ticking,
And the feelings of compassion die.
When the generation stops spending its days playing on the merry-go-round of
love

Ashley Marshall Grade 10

C’est la vie 

Il y a sept étapes dans la vie.

Premièrement, nous sommes nés
Nous sommes innocents.

Deuxièmement, nous devenons les enfants.
Nous savons manger, parler, marcher - 
Et les affaires plus importantes –
Les manières, l’amour, la bienveillance.

Troisièmement, nous changeons d’enfants en adolescents.
(L’épisode difficile de la vie !)

Quatrièmement, nous nous changeons d’adolescents en adultes.
Nous laissons notre famille.
Nous devenons indépendants.

Cinquièmement, nous tombons amoureux et nous nous épousons.
Nous savons vivre ensemble.

Sixièmement nous avons les enfants. 
Nous préparons pour leurs vies.

Finalement nous mourons
Qu’est-ce que c’est alors ?

Je ne sais pas !!!

Celia van der Merwe Grade 10

La Vie 

La vie est très très belle
mais ma vie n’est pas vieille.

L’amour est ma force
Spécialement tendre et doux.
Pourtant, la vie est courte.
Je veux chaque pouce.

Pourquoi ma vie n’est-elle pas vieille ?
Ma vie sera de mieux en mieux.

Lauren Hepworth Grade 10

Le Récit de l’amour 

L’amour parfait comme un bébé nouveau-né.
Un cadeau du ciel
Une amitié revêtue de quelque chose de spécial.
Un rapport enroulé dans de douces soies.
Mais qu’est-ce qui est arrivé ?

Une rouge-rouge rose avec une bonne-bonne odeur, 
Très jolie comme la nuit étoilée.
Une lettre de l’amour cachetée avec un baiser,
Très simple et très vraie.
Mais qu’est-ce qui est arrivé ?

Enflammée, contente, changée et chaude.
Cœur en émoi
Les papillons dans mon estomac.
Un sourire éternel.
Mais maintenant l’amour, il n’y en a plus

Liesl Hendry Grade 10

Poetry publication by the Poetry Institute of Africa 2004

Loneliness

Rain Falls
Upon the tar
of the busy pavement
A pale face walks straight past me
I'm alone

Douglas Livingstone Creative Writing Competition 2003

Poetry Africa Festival 2003

We would like to congratulate Erica Lombard and Lindsay Wills for having their poems selected by the University of Natal as prizewinners in the Poetry Africa Competition. Only five prizewinners were selected out of over 200 entries, and two are from St Mary's.

Lindsay and Erica were invited to read their poems at the Elizabeth Sneddon Theatre on Friday, 30 May together with poets from around Africa.

Internal Poetry Competition

The following pupils have been awarded prizes in the above competition in which the judges were overwhelmed by the high quality of the poems entered:

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"Zulu Flowers"

I spy with my scrutinizing eye,
A kaleidoscope of "Zulu flowers" ...

They clutch bushes,
trap fences
grasp roadsides,
Clumps of crinkled plastic
Wrapping the zigzag paths,
Flag-like packet dancers waltzing,
Clinging to innocent goat-hooves
They splotch our canvassed painting
Until we perfect our rural brushstroke.

I spy with my scrutinizing eye,
Something beginning with "Z" ...

Nicola Walters
Grade 8

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Child

Within the people we believe we are.
Behind the act we present to the public,
Beneath the crease-free suit
And superficial sparkle in our eye,
Hidden from the world we have created.
Where freedom is stifled and smiles purchased
Is a Child,
Longing to rekindle our spirits
And trying, in vain, to show us 
What is of worth.

Kim McClure
Grade 8

Sea Sand and Storm

White sand stretches out before me,
Silent, lonely, desolate.

The sea throws its waves angrily against the sand,
Stormy, volatile, restless.

Pinnacles of grey rock flank the barren beach,
Skeletal, craggy, stark.

The gulls swoop overhead calling out their greeting,
Keening, wailing, howling.

It is a warning cry of terrible danger
Treacherous, horrifying, intense.

The creatures know that a storm is brewing,
Vicious, merciless, unstoppable.

The dark storm is overhead, a rumble of thunder, a spatter of rain,
Tension is building
Evil, volcanic, frightening.

The storm breaks, unleashing its army of pounding rain,
Murderous, icy, violent.

A white knife of lightening slices through the sky,
Blinding, electric, lethal.

The roar of the sea's cruel waves reaches a crescendo
Cacophonous, booming, tumultuous.

And with a deafening clap of thunder the storm releases its final arrow,
Surrendering, relenting, retreating

The beach is drained of all life
A single gull's desperate call for help carries unanswered across the beach
Lamenting, mournful, defeated.

Kerry-Leigh Rosenberg
Grade 8

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A Life I have Lived

I have made friends and loved them and done the same to lose them.

I have felt the sting of rejection and the warm belonging of love.

I have felt the sharp, stinging pains of broken bones and the incessant burning you find claims your heart at the loss of a loved one.

I have felt the soul fulfilling presence of God almighty and had heavens gates slam in my face.

I have seen people fall and get up and watched those who don't even try.

I have run the race and come first only to do it again and come last.

I have rejoiced in the sound of laughter and mourned the falling of broken tears.

I have climbed to the penthouse of the majestic mountain and walked back down.

I have held the pink-rose hands of a baby and the time-eroded ones of an aged soul.

I have listened, laughed, lied and loved.

I have shouted, shared, cried and cared.

Because life comes in both good and bad its only when you have experienced both that you may say you have lived.

Debbie Addison
Grade 9

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The Eagle 

The sun may set the ocean ablaze with sparkling yellow fire,

My soul can drink the rose and lavender tinted milk that falls across the evening sky,

I cast my imagination heavenwards and it is caught by the moon,

Rain is the sound of unhindered laughter,

existence can be grabbed out of the fibres that make up the air around us,

Life is a feeling that inspires our spirit to receive the

whispers of bliss that are blown off the hills of heaven.

Man works towards goals of no consequence,

The eagle soars to heights undreamed of by earth.

 Fire

Stretching, pulling, chanting, dancing, weaving, waving, breaking,

The flames sing their song of thanks,

They trap you, drawing you deeper into their hypnotic gaze,

You fall asleep becoming the stage on which moonbeams dance.

Candice Balletta
Grade 9

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The Roller coaster

Click, click, click...
Drop!
Shrieking, twisting
Screaming, turning
Upside down, downside up
Inside out, outside in
Fear, excitement
Tense, alive
Shaken

A rush of silence
It's over...

Kirsten Biffen
Grade 9

African Thorn Tree

There it stands, reclining in the middle of the arid grasslands.
Bent like an old man resting in his favourite armchair,
The patriarchal tree sways in the wind,
Creaking like an old door.
The thorns are sharp and razor like,
Protruding from the fissured grey-black bark
Piercing the cloudless blue sky,
In anticipation of new beginnings
God bless the African Thorn Tree.

Catherine de Robillard
Grade 9

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Sin

I feed my heart with dead flesh
Meeting dead ends.
I dip my eyes and taste
Sin.
I let my teeth sink in with
greed,
wondering if it fills my needs,
my guilty conscience talks to me
its not me - it's sin!

I block my ears
Sin knocks.
I turn to face failure
Sin smiles.

A thought keeps me still
it makes me ill!
Is there another one of you?
Is your name also sin?

Nonjabulo Hadebe
Grade 10

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The Boy With the Face of an Angel

There is something about him,
Yet I cannot quite say what,
There's a beauty about him,
Yet only, there's not

His nose and his lips, 
They melt into one,
His bright eyes are squint,
And hair he has none

But oh, when he sings,
He quiets the room,
And his disfigured smile,
It shines like the moon

He has the face of an angel,
Just look past his skin,
Look into his soul,
There is beauty within

There is something about him,
Yet I cannot quite say what,
There's a beauty about him,
Yet only there's not

Jessica Hobbs
Grade 10 

Outside

Outside I hear the waves crashing
I hear a chime ringing
I hear the wind rustling the leaves
Outside I hear people being killed
I hear explosions and gunshots
I hear cries for help

Outside I see colourful birds flying
I see children laughing and playing
I see nature and its beauty
Outside I see people begging
I see graffiti on walls
I see the litter on the streets

Outside I smell the scent of flowers
I smell freshly baked bread
I smell incense burning
Outside I smell gunpowder
I smell petrol and other fumes
I smell buildings burning

Outside I taste the dew off a leaf
I taste salt from a sea breeze
I taste honey from the honeycomb
Outside I taste blood
I taste drugs and other illegal substances
I taste poison

Outside I feel raindrops falling on my head
I feel the sunshine beating down on my back
I feel water flowing through my fingers
Outside I feel rocks being thrown at me
I feel people hitting me
I feel the pain in my body

Genevieve Mayne-Carney
Grade 10

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Flying Lessons

I watch the awkward fledgling
Teetering precariously on the nest-edge
And realise:
To fly
We must first abandon all reason and sanity 
And
jump.

Justine Hill
Grade 11

Return of the Flutterbies

As adulthood swallows the last strains of light left by childhood,
all that was once innocent falls away,
And the flutterby sits alone in the shadowed recesses of one's mind.
The everyday anxiety and distractions consume the frail threads clinging to
what once was a free spirit,
And their clutches are roughly broken by the pressures to become a
superficial, second-rate version of someone else.
The outer appearance of one wears thin, and a gnawing hunger grows,
yearning for what it no longer possesses.
But whispered murmurs of childhood past,
Bring memories and forgotten words to a weary and restless consciousness,
And in a single, ambiguous moment, those words spill from old, unused lips,
Surprising the speaker, as the flutterby escapes from their mouth,
and the inner child breaks free.

Caitlin Henderson
Grade 11

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The Healing

As you lift your tender hand to paint the
Sky a crimson red my heart starts to tremble.
Your hands are large, yet they are warm and
uncalloused.
I fear them but they bring gentle healing
and deep contentment.
I stare with sore eyes at my own hands,
they are dry and bruised.
My knees are grazed,
my feet throb to the beat of a dead man's
soul.
As I mutter and mumble you tie a purple
ribbon in my hair,
kiss my ruined face
and we begin to dance.

Laura Kempe
Grade 11

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Ode to South Africa

We don't have much royalty,
and aren't the "land of liberty"
We don't really have Queens or Kings,
and we haven't cloud high buildings.
SA doesn't have a star quality
and people laugh at our currency.
We didn't invent the T.V. set
and may be under world bank debt.
We don't know much about the nuclear bomb
and Thabo doesn't know where AIDS is from!
But who wants a king when the prince smokes pot,
When majesty and mistress tie the knot.
And we're not going to build much higher,
While Laden's still a frequent flyer!
As for freedom, we try our best,
(with escaping prisoners and all the rest)
And we get on with what we've got,
so who cares the rand isn't worth a lot!
And though she speaks American,
Charlise was born South African.
With nuclear power we'll stay in the dark,
as we're not fighting against Iraq!
And though Thabo doesn't know what he should,
We have to admit he does some good!
So we'll sit round our braais eating our wors,
(Along with our beer and bokke shirts of course!)
Then we'll raise our glasses without explanation,
And shout to the world: "God bless the Rainbow Nation!"

Kendra Stoffberg
Grade 11

Their vision of victory

Out through the long tunnels of their eyes
- they see their world of politics.
This world is a game and it is governed
by excitement,
by tactics,
by intrigue,
They move their armies from the comfort of 
well used maps
Yet they are glorified as courageous leaders,
Out through the long tunnels of their eyes
- they cannot see the world
The world of loss
of life
and the torn bellies of fine men.

Susan Buchanan-Clarke
Grade 12

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Hypocrisy

Bundled into themselves,
They sit like little Buddhas,
Hollow little Christian Buddhas,
Twinkling in the sun.

Golden crosses glint like piety,
Reflecting, always reflecting,
Their smug faces shown nothing of nails and thorns.
Their smug faces show nothing.

My own sparkle blinds my rigid pointing finger
And catches in my hollow throat
As I see my goldplate in shards,
The statue of Me for all to see.

But

Grace strips off the crumbling veneer,
And Polyfillas the holes,
It leaves me scarred,
But real.
At least I'm real.

Erica Lombard
Grade 12

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insecurity

i sit in a corner
knees meeting chest
right hand clenching a shiny green apple.
left - a small blunt kitchen knife.
red oozes from the tip of my finger
but its source is a vein from somewhere deep inside me
i watch a blood river trickle down to the palm of my hand
and a red pond forms there
it grows legs following the creases of my palm
my river flows down my arm
meeting my sleeve
at my elbow
staining it red
a warm sticky blood river from fingertip to elbow
my skin stained red
leaving its mark on everything i touch
looking up
a door
streaky white 
dotted with magazine cuttings 
words
sentences
pictures
adverts
chaos
and it scares me

Katie Bamber
Grade 12

Pseudostratisfied

They ostracize,
So if I'm conformed I will be accepted.
They reject,
So if I'm affable I cannot be abandoned.
They judge,
So if I'm cultured my words will earn respect.
They're prejudiced,
So if I'm masculine I'll be taken more seriously.
They criticize,
So if I accumulate knowledge I will be impenetrable.
They provoke,
So if I'm aloof they will not know when they strike a nerve.

They cannot taste my fear,
They cannot smell my vulnerability,
They cannot see my demons,
They cannot hear my tired cries,
But most importantly,
They cannot feel how much I resent their pseudo existence.

Lindsay Shuttleworth
Grade 12

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2001

Outside by Erica Lombard

Drops of afternoon sun
Trickle through the leaves,
Slide effortlessly over spider webs
And collect in a puddle on the ground.

Knotted breezes entwine themselves
With dancing branches,
Bounce off the ground
Back into their playful game.

My fingerprints stain the misty glass before me.
I'm longing to reach through
And touch.
But here I am
My nose pressed against the window,
The closest I can get.

Erica Lombard
Grade 10

In Denial? is a South African anthology of youth writings compiled by Layla Cassim and published by The Renaissance Network.  Malusi Gigaba, President of the African National Congress Youth League, writes: "This book is a cinema of youth creativity and genius; their understanding of their concrete reality and their struggle against adversity."  Four girls from St Mary's have poems included in this book.