Ralph

Ralph

His hair like the tangled vines

His body tanned and golden

A boy the children saw fit as leader

A boy the children saw hope in

After all, it was him who held the conch

The golden outline of him

as he sat on the colossal log mesmerized

He gazed down on them

as Angel overlooked the Earth

Distracted, yet determined

Smoke in the distance

yet no smoke on the peak

Gasping for air as he reached the beacon

which has long extinguished

The fearsome eyes

lingered on the approaching hunters

Surrounded by savages

in an uncivilized world.

He gave in

Shirt no longer on torso,

hair no longer fair.

Alas, the descent into madness.

Jack

Jack

Red face was lit

Behind the fire

Under a pair of sharp blue eyes

was a bloody dagger

Painted face and red hair

He was the hunter

Appalling dance and bloodthirsty roaring

He was the leader

Isolation from society

was the renaissance of brutality

Instinct and the desire of meat

Dead pig and reawaken tiger

Frustration, destruction and desolation

Desperate faces filled with anger

Weeping, arguing, wind soughing

Children were swallowed by fear

Cheering and chanting with exhilaration

follow the head of procession

Scrambling, screams and laughter

It was the sound of death of law and order

Lost at Sea

     Lost at Sea

Found Poem from William Golding’s Lord of the Flies

(Pages 1-60)

By Andrew, Amanda, Emma, Karen

The shore,

fledged with palm trees.

Dark blue of the sea.

Tide running with long streaks of foam tailed away.

“That’s where we landed.”

This is an island:

A bank covered with sparse grass

torn by upheavals of fallen trees,

Scattered with decaying skull coconuts with green shadows from the palms.

Forest among the dazzling beach.

A reef out in the sea, blue of all shades,

Clear efflorescence of coral, bright glittering fish.

Diamond haze of the beach,

Darkness of the forest,    

Society paused.

Forest was savage with smoke and flame,

Faces were lit redly from beneath,

In this frustration seemed bolting and nearly mad.

A castanet sound, seductive, maddening - the promise of meat

took possession of the island.

New Shoot

The Vancouver Writers Fest is the cerebration of literatures and stories, told by authors, poets and various performers. The festival takes place in the Granville Island in Vancouver for a week during October. I was very lucky to have a chance to go to the festival with my classmates on its 30th years.  

We attended the 83rd event of the festival called New Shoot. It is a program that was launched over 30 years ago by the Vancouver school board to foster creative writing in public schools. 

The festival invited high school teacher, writers and students to come in and read their creative writing piece to the audience. The two students from Gladstone Secondary School gave out poetry and short story readings. I was impressed by the short story by an asian girl from grade 12. The story was about the early life of narrator's grandfather. Many Chinese elements are incorporated in the story and the author creates vivid images throughout the story to make it interesting. The event was followed up with a brief interview with guests and some poetry readings by the audiences. 

I'd say the festival is pretty interesting to me. Although the event I attended is fairly simple, it was still a great experience to hear from writers and other creative writing students. 

Closer

Closer

Beauty is not just for show;

It needs someone to let you know.

You are a masterpiece to me,

I appreciate for having you in my gallery.

If the smile is the key,

And the letter is the door,

Then your love is the path that leads me to the yore,

A little bit too far, a little bit too neat.

I could never miss your love,

It’s warmer than the Miami day.

I could never get enough,

It’s wetter than the ocean wave.  

Take my love from me;

And I will hold you closer.

We will not be dreaming,

As our love falls deeper and deeper.