English Department

Creative Corner

Hairline Fracture Only

I am homesick for middle age, as then times had been tough and all I knew was how to hide, To smile, be polite, laugh never cry, but don’t laugh too much. And due to these misconceptions and my preconceptions I hid, I hid, A desperate housewife not so desperate, a discontented woman content. So I smiled and I lied and of course I never ever cried. Why? I’m the backbone of the family a fractured spine, hairline fracture only, no back brace, not allowed visible signs. So still I could hide and I hid, yes I did. Days now are longer and I long as they grow longer to travel back in time, just because I wonder and I ponder all these long nights… If I had smiled or laughed or cried, who could I have inspired, Who could I have taught to speak their mind, to move into the light… And now I’m homesick for another chance for change for that woman having done all the change that she could know, having known. Lauren Pursey Year 12

The heart of the dead

Written for Holocaust Memorial Day A beating heart is safe and sound, By satin ribbons tightly bound, The warmth of crimson love is bright, With homes and hearths betrothed to light. But eyes will flash and lips will curl, As ribbons tightly bound unfurl, As crimson love is lost from sight, And homes and hearths condemned to night. A beating heart, no longer bound, Its satin ribbons grace the ground, Alone the heart will weep and stay, Till shadowed hands steal it away. Ribbons change to metal bars, A heart is blind, forgets the stars, The chamber comes, the oven heats, And now the heart no longer beats. Ananya Ajit Year 9

Not All Can Be

All cannot be said. Your solitude is poison, yet you sit in it so. It is early, not brightening, though. Nothing can be said. All cannot be done. Your silk coat and ochre hat look stiff. The table is blue. You are blue. Nothing can be done. All cannot be true. The radiators are not warm, or rusty, or odorous. You can smile sweetly today. Nothing can be true. All cannot be seen. Your shoes are red, and shimmer, and your underwear is lace. Your shame is only slight. Nothing can be seen. All cannot be false. Your cab will be waiting, soon, and you prefer being here. The floor is slippery. Nothing can be false. All cannot be undone. The skin on your cheek smarted, and you reeled. You reeled so far back, you ended up in here. Nothing can be undone. All cannot be unsaid. You told the gentleman what you needed to, and he said nothing at all. Nothing can be unsaid. Ella Kaut-Howson Year 12

My Country

The Crimson petal curled in my palm, Smooth like velvet and as soft as a pillow. I tugged the flower for another, then Thud – thud, thud – thud, thud – thud, I turned at the unmistakeable sound of footsteps. There stood a boy with hair like flames and eyes of ice, His mouth twisted cruelly. Fear spread throughout my body like fire. As though he could sense my unease, He leaned closer with a snarl. ‘Go back to where you came from.’ He said it with such authority I almost agreed. But then anger rippled through me, I shuddered with rage, ‘This is where I come from!’ Asilah Hasan Year 8

Traveller’s Tale

Wrinkled eyes, sand dunes from afar. His hands, cracked and aged from time away. Carrying a traveller’s heart, attached Not too long-distant. Spoken word, pages Written word a traveller’s tale. Words travel like a hat in the wind, Gone from sight, butStill whispers- carry voyages. -traveller- travelled words to an yeng sister, Left by wisdom, an old friend, Words whistle in trees, kettle sound. -traveller- travelled to an ancient man, They struck a different chord- like The dropping of a cup Shrill, pitchless They carry little meaning. Travellers make- believe. Kate Hailwood Year 11