Monday, August 31, 2009


From where they stood, the city lights were beautiful. The varying shades of yellow lights that surrounded them and the sky-scrapping buildings that hosted them were and enchantingly dark black in the backdrop of the lights, instead of the ugly, dull grey that was their usual appearance during the day. The sky was clear and though there wee not many, stars were visible in the usually vacant sky. This night would have been perfect if not for the reason Allison had rushed up the stairs to the very top of Michael's apartment building. "Michael, no", she said, "Pleas listen to me. You can't do this."

He did not turn around. He had not expected to see her tonight but he was not surprised by her presence. He had seen her park her car and rush across the street to the entrance of the building where he lived. He moved closer to the edge of the building and squared his shoulders, not looking down. "Michael, please."

Allison was close to tears now, her voice breaking on the second word. The only thing that kept her from crying and screaming for help was the fear surging through her veins, chilling every inch of her soul. "Why not?" Michael challenged an edge to his voice, "What difference does it make?"

He couldn't stand it any longer, the constant anger, the pain and the waiting – waiting for something, anything to finally put an end to all of it. Allison had tried to help and he really hated himself for letting her down this way but she could never truly know or understand what it meant to feel the feelings that haunted him every minute of everyday.

"Michael..." He could tell that she was in tears now and he knew exactly what her face would look like: the pain, the anguish and how her face eyes would be silently pleading. He couldn't look at her.

"Just leave Allison. Go away. There's nothing you can say now that will stop me." He squared his shoulders once more and took a final step toward the ledge. He turned his head to the left and stared into the night. Taking mental snapshots of everything, he looked slow and hard at everything in sight. 180degrees of cement, streetlights, buildings and sky lay before him. He would have loved to turn full circle but that would mean having to look at Allison – it would ruin his mental pictures and would also give her false hope. He turned his head skyward. The moon was high in the heavens, though it wasn't full.

"You can't do this." Allison insisted, her voice thick with sobs and full of desperation. "Please don't do this." Despite all his best efforts, Michael looked back at the girl standing on the rooftop with him and told her sadly: "You've still given me no reason why I shouldn't." Allison was silent a moment. 'Good,' Michael thought, 'she's finally given up.' Then she took a step forward. She was standing right next to him now, staring out into the distance the same way he was. The tears had left ugly streaks of mascara on her face.

"You can't do this," she said, "because if you jump, everyone else falls."

Thursday, August 6, 2009

"Somewhere in the world a clock is ticking..."

I'm finding my feet.
No one ever said that getting up was easy - if it were, we'd be born with the ability to walk.
But we aren't. We have to acquire the knowledge, find the means - LEARN.
I'm lying on my belly with my legs fighting to make contact with the earth, my knees raw with the effort. My hands are palm down, growing ever stronger and more determined as I push up toward the sky.
In short I'm in phase 1: I'm learning to crawl.
There's always the frustration, the feeling that crushes any hope i have to keep going.
Sometimes it's just so much simpler tom roll over and play dead.
That's especially easy to do whan you alredy feel dead.
But I'm going to keep flexing my limbs and scraping the skin from the palms of my hands, beacause I'm on my way back up.
I'm moving on to phase 2 and all the way past the end because there is nothing left to do but rise.
I'm going to keep moving and clawing because i know one thing is true:

Somewhere in the world a clock is ticking...and when it begins to chime I'll know it's My time.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009


Spend some time in silence to think of this world,
of the greed of our leaders; hence:
the poverty and hunger of those around us
Take some time and listen to the stories of men and women
who've lived through war
Of families who travelled near and far seeking refuge and
who were relieved because one door was left ajar.
Take time to discover that images of death and decay
are not hard to find
And why the stench of rotting tissue or roasted meat will
haunt their nights forever
Take some time to reach into a child's soul for there you will
find a hidden dream, a goal...
For if children were rulers decisions would be made with ease.
If children ruled the world the most definite outcome would
be peace
You would know that there is no need to raise your voice

Spend a year in silence and you would better appreciate and
understand the sound of a whisper...
A hushed voice.

I don't remember what really inspired this poem at the time that i wrote it but I'm sure it speaks for itself coming from the mind of a 16 year old. Yes, perhaps a lot of the ideals outlined by this piece are naive but i stand by them even now. My main focus though is to make people realise that maybe we would appreciate each other a little more if the people around us were removed and we were forced to feel their absence.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Ignorance Avenue

The Uneducated are looked upon with great pity by society and what good reason they have.

No Doors of opportunity are opened as they wander past. On the contrary, doors are slammed shut and heavily barricaded against their bruised hands and outstretched arms and pleading eyes. Today's hard struggle is tomorrow's unavoidable litany. Listlessly they venture, finding refuge and comfort in morbid thoughts.

Though some give up and continue on their way without complaint, many others relentlessly restart the process with the diminishing hope they have left inside. And sometimes the odd tom somehow succeeds, but for the most part they remain and perish in the hopeless state of living that they have come to call life.

Yet rejoice not all you who claim intelligence as your own. Your fancy night masks not only blind you from your partner's reading bed-side lamp, but also from the reality that lies beyond your white picket-fence. What you've been taught by those around you - by the equally blinded eyes of those who live like you - offers you very little difference.

You know nothing of the feeling of humiliation one experiences when begging, or how much a sincere plea costs the heart. And it isn't cold you feel when you walk out of your house in grand , thick coats in the heart of winter.

So don't be fooled by the mist that covers this place; ideas of paradise from your mind erase. No matter what road you tread, on the same path you will remain.
To your left hardship and strain dominate, and though the right looks promising and is travelled with ease, it really has nothing of substance to give.

Whichever way you look at it: Ignorance is a two-way street.

Friday, July 24, 2009


I want to write
Writing defines me
releases my inner being, unleashing hidden
thought and feeling
writing gives me peace as i live Achilles' lifetime of war
unwinds the protective shield that binds my soul
delivers me from troubled times and spaces
spaces filled with pain and suffering
spaces encouraging me to refuse to rise another morning
spaces filled with colours of winter's bitter cold
surrounded by spaces filled with red and brown
the colours of Autumn
ready to remind me that things don't get worse if you're already at
the bottom...
I want to write so i can create visions of spring
visions that bring new life, that spring to mind with
every new day
with the sound of every new-born bird's cry
I want to say exactly what i feel without conditions
with the freedom to make mistakes
I want to write words too deep for verbal contact
yet too shallow for global exposure in any context.
I want to be free
and that's exactly what writing let's me be.

I first started to seriously experiment with my writing skills in the year 2006, when a good friend invited me to a poetry session. I was in my third year of high school at the time, Grade 10 as it is called here in S.A, and was having a good time of it. Of course things weren't always easy.

There was life outside of school to consider, namely family, and then every other issue a girl of 16 goes through- most of which had to do with boys of course. So getting involved in the poetry club at Lyttelton Manor High School was something I'm glad i did.

Most of my entries at the start will be stuff that i have written a while back and my own reflection on those pieces. I realise that the above piece, for example, does not read as well as i first thought it did 3 years ago. But in an attempt to be completely transparent about my work and whether or not i have improved my writing skills and technique, i have decided to not edit it and publish it in it's original form.