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POEMS
BY CLAIRE HENNEBRY
AN EMOTION
I lurk in people's consciences
And make them have regrets.
I feed on people's brains until they confess,
Their souls I drink at, driving them mad.
My wish is to be a priest in a confession box,
I know all your secrets which I won't reveal
But eventually you'll admit them, thanks to me.
I strive on your crimes, you all know me.
HAIKU
gold and silver wings
dance across the sky -
he is now gone
boats sail on the lake
disturbing the calm waters -
creating ripples
the fire is burning
as we wait the fire dies -
she doesn't arrive
no one answers me
as I stand all alone
in the wind and rain
ALONE
I was once loved,
Laid carefully brick by brick,
My garden tended and weedless,
My walls had received a paintbrush's lick.
I was once loved,
I heard many patters of tiny feet,
My walls echoed the shouts of laughter,
People sat around my table to eat.
I was once loved
But now I stand alone,
I stand in the cold, windows cracked, door broken,
I am just a house - no longer a home.
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HAIKU
BY MARK COSTINE
the side I never saw,
he told lies behind my back -
dark side of the moon
a dove for peace
finds plenty of food to eat
beneath the rubble
delicious lamb and gravy -
between the leaves of cabbage
I find a long hair
the sun peeps out
from behind the sleepy clouds -
a baby's face
the sky can be seen
where the road meets the footpath,
rippled by raindrops
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POEMS
BY MAURA McCARTHY
THE TEAR
She wished she could ask the tear
Why it stretched across her face
Just like she would ask the rain
Why on Monday it quickened its pace.
It probably would have told her
What she's only hearing today
Of the pain they must have gone through
On that horribly grey Monday.
They said "It was such a shock"
It was that, to say the least
She knew he was sick since April
It kicked in when announced `deceased'.
It's not that she would miss him
She hardly knew the guy
It was all the people around him
That knew he was going to die.
She wished she could do something
As did probably half the church
She began to write a poem
So that maybe it wouldn't hurt.
Luckily for her it worked
Her sadness went away
But it haunts her as it did
On that horribly grey Monday.
POP'S CHAIRS
Generations of children
Megan, Brian, Jimmy and Matt
They started off the chain
Their memories of me probably involve
Fresh red canvas and wood smooth as satin.
Megan would always get me
Cause I was the girly colour
While the boys fought over the blue
They'd sit in the sun for hours
Whether it was to dry off from the pond
Sell lemonade outside the front door
Or just colour in their books.
Generations of children
Okay … Maybe only two or three
I was always there in the summer …
But summer would end
For them, and for me
I would be put away into darkness
The cold bitter darkness
I've come to know very well -
I hope I can last another spring cleaning
So they can sit in the sun once more.
MOE'S BOX
I will put in the box
The twang of a guitar in the shade of a tree
The warm glow of a fire on a freezing night
And that slight reassurance of a hand on your shoulder
I will put in the box
The first word of a teddy when you exit the room
A mouthful of ice-cream on a hot summer day
And the smell of mom's perfume on her favourite red scarf
I will put in the box
The eyelashes I've wished on
The last concert ticket
And the first tide of the summer
I will put in the box
Another planet and a clock that makes time freeze
The silver moon in the bluest of skies
The golden sun in the darkest of skies
My box is made of hopes and dreams
Hugs and kisses on the lid and skylines in the corners
What keeps this box intact
Is that feeling of being loved
I will place it
Among the stars
It will float lightyears
Above life's toil and trouble
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POEMS
BY LAURA FOSKIN
NIGHTTIME'S TUNE
i
The velvety black of the star-speckled night
With its golden jewel shining bright
The wind in the trees with their mournful song
Sang haunting melodies down the raven long
It was a night of beauty and grace
Nature was turning its tranquil face
ii
The lake rippled from an unseen breath
Which rose then died a natural death
The dew gleamed in the swaying grass
Which sunk to let invisible footsteps pass
The owl cried from its snowy wings
Joining the tune that nature sings
iii
The flowers danced with beauty and flair
Ears listening for an unheard air
The shadows reared then sunk again
Following a mysterious unseen rein
The leaves murmured some mystery
As if told by someone that cannot be
iv
A feathering of light dotted inky sky
Forcing the night to tragically fly
The wind vanished answering her call
As soon as the moon began to fall
Then daybreak came to that place
And nature showed its laughing face
JOY
Joy is the laughter of young children playing tag
too young for problems to impinge on their lives
Joy is the schoolchild getting praised for her work
little knowing the pressure that will now be applied
Joy is the teenager with the first heady crush
too naïve to know that pain will follow
Joy is the exultation in all the glory of youth
Joy is the laughter of lovers on summer days
turning their backs on the rain that threatens
Joy is the first mother with a new baby
eyes closed to the trials that await her now
Joy is the person winning something they expected to lose
careless of the pain of the losers
Joy is looking back over years and painting them a rosy
hue
unable to do the same for the present
Joy is the feeling you've waited for all your life
not caring about stepping into the unknown
Joy is simple yet so very hard to define
It is oblivion that is mindless in happiness
yet comes before a painful awakening to reality
Joy is Joy, strong, impetuous, blind to reason
Joy heals us, hurts us, protects us, pains us
Joy brightens our lives
before making them darker than before
Joy is something we need for our laughter
INNOCENCE OF CHILDHOOD
i
The flame of childhood innocence is now being banked
and all that remains is some glowing embers
and now they too have been doused with worldly wisdom
until all that remains is grey ashes blowing in the wind
of what used to be the joy of childhood
ii
It is being doused faster and faster
but no one seems to lament its hasty end
no one seems to mourn the passing of its splendour
instead they rejoice over the new fire
that burns and consumes instead of giving life and warmth
the scorching furnace that is adulthood
iii
The vestiges of childhood are as if they never were
people are too scared to look beyond the furnace
to see the small remains of such innocent forgotten glory
that is urged by fools to be killed
to trample over God's greatest miracle
iv
It is only when the furnace goes hazy and no longer scalds
that people can once again see that childhood flicker
and it is only then when people realize its glory
when they discover the wonder that through their own folly
they have lost
that they fall to their knees weeping for the undeserved
miracle
they were given
but by their own stupidity destroyed - the innocence
of childhood
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POEMS
BY SUZANNE DALY
GUILT
It just started
I mean me
that day that
I never told
I live
in the mind
of that person
who feels my pain
I love cats
but not white ones
the ones with long
skinny tails
I drove here
in my car
but that doesn't mean
you have to like cars
My name
I don't know
you'd think I'd have
been told by now
My age
the age of
that person
who has me
My favourite colour
would be pink
it sums up my entire
life
My future
is of pain
for those people
who never did need me
and me
I'm that person
the person
you always will hate
and that person
who has me
will someday soon
be you
HAIKU
the stallion stood
taken aback by the wind
soon he will run - where?
when I grow older
I hope I will not be sick
lying there waiting
I live on the edge
I will take on the challenge -
where does that leave you?
I want to be free
free as the bird who sings praise
when will I be free
I love the summer
It comes and it goes again
Winter comes and stays
MY NANNY
My memory
is short, sweet and saddening.
One day it all happened,
at my tender age of ten.
She was brought to
the hospital.
I didn't know why.
When I found out
It was too late
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WYD
POEMS