Creative Corner 17

WELCOME to GIRL.COM.AU's Creative Corner. Each month we give budding young readers the opportunity to submit poetry, short stories, or artwork and have their work published!

DANCING SEASHELLS

She sits on her bed, she sits and waits,
she looks out her window at the moon so great.
She's sad and she's lonely, as still as can be,
I'll send her some seashells, a gift from the sea.
A knock on the glass, a knock on the pane,
she opens the window as she leans on her cane.
and in come the seashells, silver and gold,
she closes the window before it gets cold.
She turns around, careful not to fall,
And saw the seashells dancing off the wall!
then onto the bed, then onto the floor,
they jump as they twirl and they bounced off the floor!
And as they danced at a wonderful pace,
a smile appeared on the small child's face.
She put down her cane, and lifted her gown,
then she walked toward them, and didn't fall down!
She danced and she giggled till the clock's last chime,
for she hasn't laughed for a very long time.
Then as her eyes were covered with sleep,
one seashell was left for her to keep.
And when she woke up that one seashell was seen,
and that's when she knew it wasn't a dream.

- Charlie Nicholes

On a cold, dark night there was a shadow on the wall. It was a figure of a man crouching on the ground. He was holding an object in his hand, but it was too dark to determine what it was. As I moved closer to the figure, I discovered that the man was about eighty years of age and that he was completely alone.

His clothes were ripped and his shoulder sleeve was caught on a nail, which was sticking out of the wall. I kindly stepped closer and removed the man's clothes from the nail. The old man didn't move, it was almost as though the life had been drained out of him. A tear dropped from my eye and I wiped it away with my hand as I gazed at the helpless old man.

I soon discovered that the object which he was holding, was a guitar. I bent over and asked the old man what his name was? He replied, "Tom", in a very soft voice. I asked him to play a song for me on his guitar. The old man strummed a note on his guitar, with his fragile hands. It was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.

- Vicky Tina

All is not lost.
I'm still here, alive.
My life is down the drain.
Another person from my family has gone.
When someone has passed away, all seems lost.
It doesn't ever stop - like the wind -
It just keeps on blowing and never ends.
Every day is a new beginning
I'm just realising that, every second my life goes on.
My life passes, I see the day go
I browse over the passing week
Realise, life is moving too fast.
I'm dying.
It feels like I've got the winter uniform on.
The classroom is hot and stuffy
A space in the desert
The seats are as hard as the work I'm doing
These conditions I'm in are appalling
I can't work.
Get rid of what I don't need.
It's a place where I can sit and relax.
I think.
Feel my emotions.
A room filled with silence.

- Marianne Wellsted

SILENCE

The sound of silence
Forever in the deafness of my dreams.
Concentrating, I listen to the confused words,
Of my lonely mind.

They echo through like shattered glass.
Why?
The question expands inside.
The days. They come and go.
Not caring to take me along.
Leaving me helplessly behind.
Older.
Lonelier.
Trapped.
In my own silence.

- Bianca Warn

I look out of my window
And see people shouting,
Fighting with each other.

Others keep to themselves,
In their own
Quiet Space.

Do these people feel confused?
Or lost?
This is a question
I will never know.

- Tammy Sorger

They're mean,
They're horrible,
They talk about me,
Not to me but behind my back,
My friend told me,
It's true,
They're mean,
They're horrible,
I'd hate to say
But it's true.

- Andrea

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