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The Young Writers Thread (aged 10-15)

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And only one more because I should be in bed!

 

Polkie, age 11.

 

Solace written 2006.

 

Dewed leaves rustle for space amongst the crusty leftovers.

Flowers unwaveringly grow, showing a dedication unknown to men.

The listening oak smiles down upon the delicate earth.

And the silence hangs so heavy, you're almost afraid to speak.

 

Love is found here and love is lost,

Among the dew and the straggly moss.

Because trees don't care, nor does the land.

For them minutes are years, and years are sand.

 

Silence is almost

A state of the mind

It takes what you've left

And leaves it further behind.

 

A leaf grows on a tree and falls in a season.

A man dies in a fast-paced world, and it only takes a second.

And when you sit upon a bench, like me, blossom falling, pen in hand,

As you write, you realise that months and years are falling from your hourglass.

 

And I'd rather sit here forever than return to Earth,

Like the poor dying tree.

For here, there is nothing to strive after;

Just centuries passing, and we don't notice.

It's called Solace.

 

 

(No idea what I was talking about here.)

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They are, and I don't know about you Pattrica but I find poetry really difficult. I think these are very talented youngsters.

 

I cannot write poetry at all, brisbane. Puts us to shame,doesnt it.

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Sure does. It just doens't flow.

I'm now trying to get something on paper for the March theme and that seems a challenge in itself!

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Sure does. It just doens't flow.

I'm now trying to get something on paper for the March theme and that seems a challenge in itself!

 

Yes, Ive got mine to do. Im not going to rush it, and will alter it a few times before submitting.

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Moving this poem by Polkie over from the Poem thread, so that they are all together.

 

Home alone written 2006.

 

I'm scared of a whisper, late at night

I'm scared of the lingering shadow's bite

I'm scared of corpses, I don't know why

Their souls never had a chance to fly

 

I'm scared of being alone in the house

Wary and jumping at the squeak of a mouse

And a door creaks open, but there's no one there

I stare blankly, but it's only thin air

 

A floorboard creaks, I whip around

The house is empty but the creepy sounds....

I see something on the floor - it looks like blood!

I take a closer look - it's only mud.

 

Is this real , or is it my imagination?

Scared as I am, I feel a morbid fascination

I force myself to walk to my chair and sit down

But I can't concentrate on the computer and look all around

 

Is that a bloody face staring through the window?

Is that a dead body, stuck in permanent limbo?

There's a dark shadow outside the door

This is the end, I live no more

 

My parents walk in, laden down with shopping bags.

"Hi!" they say, "anything happened?"

I look at them, I don't know what to say

"Nope," I reply. "I was fine today."

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And the last one from the Poem thread, written by Polkie last week.

 

 

Last night I dreamt a dream

Where I was someone else

In a different universe

In a different world

 

And I dreamt of red roofs and yellow houses,

And of dusty courtyards and beckoning swings,

And a glittering beach, with sand and sea

Both looking like vast oceans to me.

 

And I dreamt of walking on that beach,

Letting heels sink into the sand,

Water washing around my feet,

And someone holding my hand.

 

I dreamt of sweet scents

Wafting on the breeze…

Looking out of the window,

And feeling so happy and free.

 

And I dreamt of growing older,

And being married by the Elder,

And hacking through flowered vines

To drink the holy water.

 

I dreamt of having children,

And laughing, loving to live,

And I dreamt of growing older, and older

And forgetting… everything.

 

It was someone else’s life.

Had it really happened?

It was so beautiful, so rich, so full

So more vibrant than our own.

 

Is that planet really out there?

With villages of villas?

Arid as a desert,

But in some parts lush and green…

And the awe-inspiring, wonderful,

Two-ocean beach.

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You have a very, very talented daughter, hennypenny. :)

 

I now understand exactly why you were so keen to have a section like this one on the Writing Group. :)

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Thank you Shoeshine :)

 

I do think she is talented of course, I am biased, but then I'm a mum and it is allowed :)

 

She is very intent on writing being her path in life, so please don't feel shy about making constructive criticism, she is happy to learn from other writers. As she is home educated there isn't quite so much of an opportunity to get other people's opinions on her work, and she values your comments.

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Thank you Shoeshine :)

 

I do think she is talented of course, I am biased, but then I'm a mum and it is allowed :)

 

She is very intent on writing being her path in life, so please don't feel shy about making constructive criticism, she is happy to learn from other writers. As she is home educated there isn't quite so much of an opportunity to get other people's opinions on her work, and she values your comments.

 

We have nothing to criticise here. This child is very talented. Let her get all her poetry down, as you lose your imagination as you get older.

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We have nothing to critisise here. This child is very talented. Let her get all her poetry down, as you lose your imagination as you get older.

 

I know it sounds a bit "trite", pattricia, and I didn't mention it in my previous reply to hennypenny, but I had the same thoughts on this as you, regarding a younger person's imagination, and way of seeing things. As we get older, we tend to get "programmed".

 

It's great to have access to a younger person's imagination untainted by the burdens of conformity placed there by other educational/formal factors.

 

I am impressed also to be told Polkie is being taught at home. I have a great admiration for Crayfish, another SF poster and also a product of home tuition. He's a young University student with a maturity beyond his years, and is quite brilliant intellectually, in my opinion. :)

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Yes, I agree with shoeshine here as well. It seems more children are being home educated now. I think the word that springs to mind with this young girls writing is "Fresh". I didnt know that Crayfish was home educated,but I will look out for his posts. I think the The Young Writers Thread is going to be more succesful than we imagined.

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Crayfish will be found in the Sunday Express tomorrow, I am led to believe :)

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