This poem is a breeze, the snow and death ~ Nsiki Gwala

This poem is a cool breeze.

This poem is the freezing snow.

This poem is peaceful death.

This poem is a deep breath of life-

A cool touch that stirs one's senses.

It's a minute wave treading on the dry earth,

That whispers tales of unknown worlds

Where is had danced on calm waters.

This poem is the cool breeze.

This poem is a vast coat of ice,

That ensnares life in crystal flakes.

Memories lost in mortality

Lie buried beneath its ominous beauty.

Like fallen stars illuminating the earth,

This poem is the freezing snow.

This poem is a man lurking in the shadows-

A memory devouring one's courage,

Like a nightmare dwelling in an innocent mind.

It's a lonely journey to an unknown truth,

In which souls fearfully embark.

This poem is peaceful death.

This poem is the cool, tingling breeze.

This poem is the white, freezing snow.

This poem is the inevitable and peaceful death.

© Nsiki Gwala

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GRADE 10

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Jivana Reddy ~ Boredom, Dreams and Grievances

This poem is a boring class
This poem is a dream longing to happen
This poem is death reaping upon your doorstep

This poem is a dreadful long hour
It is trying to resist the drenched pain
But, there is no success
This poem is the last few dregs of boredom
This poem is a boring class

This poem wonders if it will ever be pursued
And not dreamt
This poem has patiently awaited
Not knowing that its rivalry has viciously multiplied
This poem is a dream longing to happen

This poem is a deep sleep
Never to be awakened
This poem has silently captured its victims
It can’t be stopped, but, awaited
For it’s our never known future
This poem is death reaping upon your doorstep

This poem is the wanted haste hours of a boring class
This poem is the dream to all dreams
This poem is the mystic grievances of the dead


© Jivana Reddy


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GRADE 9
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Yuktha Singh ~ This Poem is a Painting, a Ball and a Boomerang

This poem is an abstract painting.
This poem is a ping- pong ball.
This poem is a boomerang!
 
This poem is an optical illusion to your mind,
It keeps you thinking and thinking…
It is a web of many paths, views and legends.
Each step can either construct, leading you on to more paths
Or destruct, ending your journey before it even begins.
This poem is an abstract painting.

This poem is a white ping-pong ball
Which bounces past your eyes
Before you even know it.
White, yet so colourful,
Empty and hollow yet so full.
The rhythm of that ping-pong ball compels you
To wrap your mind around it and focus.
Its ultimate aim- to entertain
This poem is a ping-pong ball.

This poem is a boomerang
That will always come back to you,
Despite everything else.
It moves at the speed of sound and
Just when you think it’s slowing down,
It never loses its momentum.
It finds any possible ways to turn around
So that it doesn’t collide into the ground.
When you feel like you are going down,
Losing momentum like the boomerang does-
This poem will come back to you.

This poem is an abstract painting that tangles your mind.
This poem is a simple, yet complicated ping-pong ball.
This poem is the boomerang that never loses momentum!

© Yuktha Singh


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GRADE 9
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Meleza Jali ~ This Poem is a Child, a Butterfly and a Dream

This poem is a child
This poem is a butterfly
This poem is a dream

This poem brings joy to life
It believes in no danger
This poem is innocent
And only commands love
This poem is a child

This poem is a wonderful creation
It desires the wind beneath its wings
and searches the earth
it is as graceful as can be
This poem is a butterfly

This poem crashes down on your skull
It lingers in your sleep
And remains deep in the shadows
This poem went away years ago
This poem is a dream

This poem is a growing child
This poem is the soaring butterfly
This poem is the long lost dream.                                  

© Meleza Jali


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GRADE 9
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Nsiki Gwala ~ This poem is the sky, a flower and the sea

This poem is the blue sky.
This poem is a blooming flower.
This poem is the cold sea.

This poem is the blue ocean above.
God’s gift of life to the living,
Where bird’s swim so fearlessly and freely
Like a dry autumn leaf sinking swiftly to the dry land.
Earth’s peaceful and heavenly place
Where the ground is but a grotesque memory.
This poem is the blue sky.

This poem is the florescent flower of life.
A rebirth of indefinite opportunities,
With a delicate promise of hope and revival.
This is life’s rare moment that captures hearts and souls-
A true vision of a brighter tomorrow
That renews all shattered dreams.
This poem is a blooming flower.

This poem is a vast, aquamarine sea.
An ice-cold blanket that hugs the earth
Like a blizzard on a freezing winter’s day,
With jaws that have munched on rocky cliffs
And murdered innocent lives.
The giver of life for those near it-
This poem is the cold sea.

This poem is the heavenly, blue sky.
This poem is a florescent blooming flower.
This poem is the endless cold sea.

© Nsiki Gwala


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GRADE 9
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Pryaska Goorhoo ~ This poem is snowflake, hill and sand

This poem is a flake of snow.
This poem is a huge, overgrown hill.
This poem is a mountain of sand.

This poem is the last snowflake for the season.  
Shining brightly, it perfectly lands on top of the cliff,
Not moving nor sliding.
A fulfilled wish-
Satisfying the soul.
Cooling, chilling the desire.                                                                                                                           This poem is a flake of snow.

This poem is a hill with many unwalked paths.
Beautiful sceneries or a hive of danger?  
A decision to begin or end?
Between grassy greens and deserted plains.
A life changing choice to become victim or victor-
To walk around the hill or to walk over it.
This poem is a huge, overgrown hill.

This poem is a mountain of many tons of sand  
Whirling in the wind, moving to the rhythm of the air.  
Perfectly hopeless-
The way they swiftly bump into each other without causing harm to any.  
Sweet memories whirl in the wind of the mind,
Indescribable, indiscreet, indestructible… and uncontrollable.
This poem is a mountain of sand.

This poem is a six-pointed snowflake.
This poem is one of many other hundred hills.
This poem is a desert of sand.


© Pryaska Goorhoo


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GRADE 9
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Jenna Venter ~ Two Poems

This poem is a crying baby

This poem is a crying baby

This poem is a toy truck

This poem is a bedside lamp

This poem is weak and tiny,

it cries for its mother’s company.

This poem likes to moan and groan,

this poem will accomplish great things.

This poem is a crying baby.

This poem is a lonely toy truck

from the toy box, lying far from it

away from all the other toys.

This poem is the toy truck

This poem is a burning lamp,

its rays filling the small room

keeping the room alight

this is like sunshine on a rainy day

very comforting and warm.

This poem is the bedside lamp

This poem is the crying baby to its mother

This poem is the toy truck to the toy box

This poem is the bedside lamp to the dark room

 © Jenna Venter


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Love Me, Love Me Not?

I thought love was all too sweet

If only you could trust them not to cheat

I thought love was all too sweet

How could this come to be

If only you could trust them not to cheat

Love is a fantasy, no such thing

How could this come to be

I thought love was all too sweet

Love is a fantasy, no such thing

How could this come to be

If only you could trust them not to cheat

Love is a fantasy, no such thing

How could this come to be

I thought love was all too sweet

Love is a fantasy, no such thing

How could this come to be

I thought love was all too sweet

If only you could trust them not to cheat

 © Jenna Venter


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GRADE 9
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