We've had so much amazing writing since lockdown, we really have been humbled here at MUSE - from the inspirational, to the tearjerking, to the downright weird. We love it all. Here's a selection of some of the best poetry we've had this term!
Space and Time.
I sit around my desk and fidget with my pen,
Thinking of ideas that writers would depend.
Gazing out the window I spot a shooting star.
I think if my mind has wondered just as far.
Until I realized the miracle, I had just saw occur
But soon after I also thought of a 9 year old's slur
Which quickly silenced the more abstract thoughts that nearly did occur.
Why would you think of space and time
When words like "F***" provide as fun a time?
by Matthew Wild
There’s nothing left to talk about.
(inspired by Cormac McCarthy's 2006 novel, 'The Road')
The road ahead is closed.
A diversion stands by,
As the world remains on pause
2 metres to satisfy
those whom are susceptible
Those whom are responsible
Those who are waiting -
Nothing left to talk about.
by Kitty Dodd-Noble
Anyway, it was true.
(an 8-line poem inspired by the 8th line on the 8th page of the nearest book to hand)
Heavens opened with a colourless
maroon. Melodious birds hummed with a detached
tune. Targeted hearts heaved with a contending attempt to
Move. Alas, the remains are true
Another crimeless creature.
Another courtless officer.
Another countless statistic.
by Cecily Herbert
Blackout Poem.
After school, we were daring each other to go up,
I watched them go higher.
Who ran to get the nurse?
After the Choosing Ceremony, he and I, we were in the same year.
The second I walked in,
To the nurse’s,
The atmosphere feels hungry.
My heart rate is already elevated.
by Emma Balderston
Nature Had Not Been Kind to Smudge.
1. Nature had not been kind to smudge.
2. It had withered away at him, given him a grudge. 3. He was not one for smiling, was never beguiling, 4. his mouth in a permanent frown. 5. He would trudge on his crutch around the Dutch town in which he lived 7. He was known by the locals, as a bit of a yokel
8. And a man with a scowl that couldn’t shift.
1. Nature had not been kind to smudge.
2. It had withered away at him, given him a grudge.
3. He was never the coolest, a little bit foolish
4. And often forgot where he was.
5. He would end up in parks, sitting in trees with the larks
6. And was always surrounded by gloom
7. By the time he made it home, he’d be sat all alone
8. With no one to share with but the moon.
by Jess Leach
Satellite.
yes. soon.
soon the waves, soon the wind, soon all the things we have seen on videos, but never felt.
to feel my bare feet finally touch the fresh grass,
and watch the sunset from outside the glass.
to run outside and feel the rain on my face,
no longer feel trapped or stuck in one place.
one day down on earth I’ll look up at the moon,
but for now, I just think ‘one day’ will become soon.
by Kyra McGregor
Poem.
But there wasn’t much in them,
Well that’s what they told me.
How am I supposed to know
If I didn’t get a chance to see?
Unaware of the potential,
Silently sheltered from the heat.
Boiling,
Burning,
Blazing,
Yet unaware of what to see.
by Molly Peyton
Lord of the Flies.
He turned over, holding his nose, and a golden light danced
With a joyous spring of life, as he glanced
To see the flashing fireworks leap up high
In the starlit obsidian sky.
Too much for a tiny baby to comprehend
But still exciting to observe it and pretend
That he too could be the spark of new energy
That gives a life a wealth of dreams and memories.
by Tamar Duncan
Blackout Poem.
my muscles tightened, the atmosphere feels hungry, will i be responsible? my heart rate is elevated, i pause
by Lily Beck
Where the Wild Things Are.
And then he came to where the wild things are,
Just out of his door, he didn’t walk very far,
Over the threshold into that new world of wonder,
Picking his way through the wild flora and fauna,
From behind a tree a small face appeared,
Stumpy and green with overly large ears.
And then it came time leave to where the wild things are,
His feet heavy from the adventure,
Back over the threshold, into his mothers arms,
To dream of the magic and charms,
Of where the wild things are.
by Immy Fortescue
Wonderful Tonight.
(another 8-liner)
It had belonged to his Mother, but because she was such a horrible woman,
my mother disliked the ring from the start.
She says fidelity is subjective.
And it was foolish to pretend a diamond could make someone loyal.
Diamonds seem to her to be the most promiscuous gem.
Over romanticised, overkill.
I like diamonds.
They look nice.
by Connie Edgar