‘Drab’ – Maia S H, Y8

I blow my nose,

He makes me feel ill,

I close my eyes,

I don’t wish to see him any longer,

If I don’t I’ll find myself ponder,

He’s really not that bad,

Someday he’ll grab someone else,

Whisk them in to his sick sick ways,

Oh how I count the days ,

Till I can leave this bed, 

Oh how I feel so drab,

But then I remember,

I was the one who forgot ,

To book my annual flu jab,

‘Rain’ – Preet G, Y8

The song of the rain sings softly,

A slight drizzle, a pleasant break,

From the ever beating, shining sun,

Dripping from leaf to leaf, second to none

 

However, the sweet rain cannot always pour, always sing,

For it is sometimes replaced by torrential rage,

Provoked by whooshing gusts of winds,

Violently thrashing its bullets upon our windowpanes.

 

Many a times the frosty, freezing air,

Crystalizes each tiny glass bead which falls from our sky,

Influenced by the steadfast cold atmosphere,

Falling softly, piling, unbeknownst in the darkness of night.

 

The song of life cannot always sing softly,

Giving us pleasant and wonderful times

Stormy times will come and go,

Times of conflict may turn our speech cold,

But we will always melt once more.

‘Barefoot’ – Mairead B, Y8

The warm sand on bare toes,

The ocean water as the tide goes,

The soft pebbles on the shore,

The green grass on the floor…

 

Hawaii is home for the barefoot.

 

But wait, not the hot rocks covered in black soot,

Not the fiery lava where the volcanoes erupt,

Not the seaweed which happens to interrupt

Your pleasant swims until a shark BITES

I guess Hawaii took away your Barefoot rights.

‘Shoeless’ – Preet G Y8

To feel the whooshing wind on my face again, blasting by my ears,

The smell of the simply fresh, salty air.

I think of the times in the soft sand or tiptoeing on the rocks,

I think of the times I ran, running shoeless on the wind-swept beach

 

To feel a slight cool breeze, causing your hair to float

The sweet, sweet scent of honeysuckle and red rose

I think of the times in the cool green grass, tickling your feet

I think of the times I ran, running shoeless across the garden

 

To feel the warm comfort, settling down in front of the TV,

The smell of food, wafting from the kitchen,

I think of how I am now, settled in a blanket, feet nestled in a rug.

I think of how I am now, shoeless in the soft carpet, writing this poem.

‘A Poem’ – Chi O Y8

Exposed.
Sharing emotions,
Dishing out parts of me,
Showing you apart of me,
It makes me feel
Exposed.
And it’s like the messy,
The pressy and stressy
That I guess he
Poured out of me,
Like Pepsi
Are tangled in knots.
Knots on a stage
That everyone’s watching.
Like I’m in a glass cage
or on an open page.
This isn’t a come-of-age,
Where the loving teenage
Girl,
Tells the cool teenage
Love,
All the emotions that uncurl
In her heart, in her mind.
This is a different kind,
This makes me anxious,
Stressy and messy.
And unless he
Forgets me,
I’ll feel as if my heart’s on show,
A spot of grass in snow.
As if everyone’s running
But I stay put,
Like they wore shoes,
And i was the only barefoot.