Poets' Corner - Couplets

Introduction from the Editor

Hello everyone! I am so excited to launch the first ever edition of Poets’ Corner, the school’s first and only publication dedicated solely to poetry! I wanted to share my love of poetry with the whole school community and enable all budding poets to have somewhere to display their work alongside that of others with the same passion. The genre of poetry I chose for this edition is couplets, a form used by poets from Geoffrey Chaucer to Thom Gunn and now NLCS’s very own! Students from Year Seven right up to the Sixth Form have contributed a huge range of wonderful submissions, and I hope that this serves as an insight into just how many different themes and ideas can be conveyed through the same form of poetry.

Thank you for reading this magazine I hope you enjoy it!

Emma Editor-in-chief

open up the book of memory, wipe off the lingering fluff tenderly, and flip to the last remnants of their laughs, the crying calls, the long rambling paragraphs

of all their thoughts splayed on a page their writing was always an accurate gauge of their feelings, none of which are now known to you, there are other people surrounding their throne.

flip to the pages of before and remember how you came to adore them, and realise how fast it all became: weeks and months felt like years, and the blame for their worries was put all onto you, even though you didn’t know what to do.

skim through the photos you took together, realise how close to each other you were tethered.

look back on off days and notice the signs where one of you had snapped too many times.

you came to terms that it was for the better, and returned all their records, their books and their sweaters. wipe away all the stray salty tears, that drip onto the pages and blur your inky fears.

close the book completely before you lose your nerve and go back to the better life you deserve.

file the book of memory, put it away, and return back, smiling, into your day.

IK

A Humorous Reality

The incandescent twinkling elusive stars

Light up the night sky a sky that’s not ours. The faint pale hue of the celestial moon, Positioned perfectly, invisible in the afternoon Creates harmony and rhythm

In a space full of uncertain precision. But beyond the planets and stars, And the moon that we call ours; There’s amphoras arcane space, That we cannot begin to embrace.

The earth seemingly big, with a plethora of trees Is nothing but a fragment in the inky black seas That we call the universe. When in reality our size in comparison is humorous.

Zarah

Jam Doughnut

I dropped my jam doughnut But then got a cone nut The cone nut I couldn’t eat So I went to the high street

But on the high street I saw a nice beet This beet I bought Leaves, stems and all And off I went Straight into a tent

In this tent was some steak That I went in to take This steak I found Was very large and round

Nevertheless I took it And then I shook it But just then the meat Fell on my beet!

The beet was broken The meat split open So off I walked Feeling rather distraught

“How, oh how Will I get more food now? Oh! I rather ought To take a nice walk.”

So I went home to bake Quite a decent cake Though the flour was old The icing was red and gold

But then I thought “Alas! I could have bought The same cake at the market for naught!”

So I went to the market Took my bike and parked it At a stall I got An apple pie, nice and hot

The pie I took Hung on a hook

The pie I swung

On the hook it was hung

But suddenly the pie Did take off and fly! It flew all the way To a place called Shay

So I’d lost my jam doughnut

And my nice cone nut I broke my beet That I bought on the street

My steak was all new! And the cake I baked too My lovely apple pie Was lost to the sky!

And as I walked, Thinking these thoughts My head a muddle My feet confuddled

Something, just something, made my eyes stop And my jam doughnut was lying where it had been dropped…

Keira

Storm

There’s something about a storm when the waves, Rushing, flood up the stones into the caves And the wind, flapping, like a slack sheet, screeches And wails, filling the air above the empty beaches. With curtains apart, the lighting’s flash ing, while the doors fly open and the windows crash in a moment, the thunder, and just then the hail, Coming in sheets, masks the world with a veil Of tiny white specs like a billion stars, So, everyone stops, including the cars. And the boats and the flights and even the trains And those on the platforms get struck with delays. No one can move. Nobody tries. The whole world stands watching the plea from the skies.

Tammy

Three Birds

With a voice like a flute it sings, When it flies on its dark speckled wings. If you see it, you’ll know it by sight, It’s a sandpiper, grey green and white.

Over rivers and lakes these birds fly With a shrill, ringing call shall it cry, Unmistakeable, red, white and blue, It’s a kingfisher, beautiful too.

Now this one is known as a thief, Its song is heard over our heaths, Piping innocent notes as it flies, It’s the winged Artful Dodger magpie.

Huan Li

Thinking

When I get bored, I like to think So hard I drown in my thoughts; I sink In these moments, I feel so deeply vast My brain recollects things, hidden in the past

I become so very lost and detached my soul a solitary creature, my body an empty sack I travel through, time and space to a comforting, yet scary place

You could never wake me, however hard you try, Take my body, but my heart will not abide.

- Anya

Variations (variegation)

The leaf gazes at the cow with envy (as she replicates its spots)

She gives up her pigment (her colour: her life) in that timeless strife as Zelos foretold.

she may just be a canvas; try as she might, the ink only bleeds so far

colour bleeds, water bleaches (a coral dies)

or she is old, graying, no longer sustaining her beauty.

- Solène

It’s time for autumn to prepare, For something’s lurking in the air, Something spooky, something haunting, Something which is dark and daunting.

It is best for you to be aware, There are creepy noises everywhere, Footsteps in deserted halls, Screams rebounding off the walls.

The piano screeches on its own, Doors swing open with an awful groan, And there are shadows running free, And skeletons creeping steadily.

Be prepared for things that come your way, On October’s final day, For that is when the horrors strike! But farewell for now, and wishing you a haunting Halloween night.

When witches go riding And black cats are seen The moon laughs and whispers ‘Tis near Halloween

The Harvest moon fills the sky A wicked witch goes flying by Ghosts and goblins…skeletons too Moaning and groaning and wailing for you Black cats prowl the graveyard plots Witches cook in cauldron pots Cemetery ghosts roam the ground Not one unopened grave is found Tombstones are an eerie sight Shadows dance in full moon light The haunted house on the hill Walk in there and you get a chill Jack o lanterns eyes so bright Trick or Treaters scream in fright It’s a time like you’ve never seen Tonight’s the night of Halloween

One bright day

In the middle of the night

Two dead boys got up to fight Back to back they faced each other

They drew their swords

And shot each other

A dear policeman heard this noise And came and killed those two dead boys

Abisha

Slow down, time!

Slow down, time! Calm down, relax.

I spend you. I waste you. I can’t seem to save you.

Still, you do not care. You are emotionless and unfair. You do not care if I fell off my chair. You do not care if I got robbed in the Times Square!

You do not care if I burnt my house Or my toast. You do not care if a storm is brewing, A war is raging Or even if the world is changing!

Nope, you just care how earlier or later I am 6 feet tall. You’re just a constant remainder Of how the end is near and the beginning is getting harder and harder to recall. You pass by unnoticed Reminding me how much of you I have until death.

Slow down, time! Let me catch my breath.

Tvisha

Sick, Only for Home

The care ripened maize that embrace you and sustain you into the cold days, tinkling cucumber chillies chained to their stems, stubborn to pick, and even more so to taste, miniature oranges the children toyed with (even though they weren’t allowed to).

Inside, ginseng cloying your mind, rendering clarity meaningless.

Second chance

A leaf drifts in front of my eye hiding you, in a Spring’s sigh.

It’s gone as I blink and I catch sight of your wink. Lifting an arm, you wave and you smile, the butterflies won’t be still for a while.

With every step, a faster beat. Healing heart and running feet. Gentle fire melting frozen ice, would bringing down the wall be nice? Seeing and feeling, and knowing and, yet again, laughing and loving.

Only time can tell, they say But this time, I’ll do it my way.

RV

Colouring In

Blue like the thoughts that engulf my brain And take me to hell and back again. Green like the hugs that I give out To erase all your troubles and doubts.

Pink like all the words I say

As I continue to talk all my troubles away. Yellow like the scent of a brand new book

As I rustle the pages to take a first look.

Black like the anger that seeps through my veins Like a drug at the end of tiresome days

I’m a blank sheet of paper, the world a pen That, little by little, colours me in.

Emma