93
Bo r l a s i a n 2 0 1 3
Creative Writing
Splash
Two crimson, wrapped up toddlers on a bank
Twin pebbles, like a timebomb firmly clutched.
On ruddy faces soon a smile is latched;
An idea sparks within the stones they touch.
They glance, a notion strikes to misbehave.
One throws, it sinks and ripples on the lake,
The modest still alters to choppy waves
Mimics the transformation of their fate.
She lunges forth with all her toddler might,
Small heartbeat pulsing, veins are flushed with heat;
Alas she grips the rock into its flight
She’s then a speck of red into the deep.
The adult’s charge clatters upon the pier.
The lesson: only play when Mummy’s near.
This poem was inspired by a childhood memory of mine
from a trip to Lyme Regis when I was a toddler. I was with
my cousin by the edge of a lake and decided to have a
stone throwing competition. Unfortunately she forgot to
let go of her stone and toppled straight into the water;
luckily my mum was on standby and quickly pulled her
out.
Rosie Street Y11
Wolf
Whispering through the forest,
A spectre among the shadows,
A sliver across the moon.
Quiet and cunning,
He watches, he waits,
A cold curiosity lingering in his eyes.
The Prince of woods,
He strides out into the night.
A twig snaps.
He pauses, poised,
Ready to attack.
Elusive as a winter mist
He steps out of the shadow of the forest.
In the distance a bird crows.
Slinking in the grasses,
Noble and wise
He smells his unseen prey.
Leaping through the starlight,
Immortal in his flight
He soars across the sky
Jaws open, feet ready,
About to strike,
He falters
Bang! The woodland Prince tumbles to earth
Mortal once again.
Blood upon the grasses glistening in the night,
Bullets like a necklace scattered in the grass.
The moon peeks out at him from behind a cloud.
He howls.
Hannah Filmore Y9
