Poetry (3)

Who are tired of crying for themselves?

Whose eyes are swollen and red?

Whose eyes daily look upon blood stains?

Who will cry for the girl

Who was raped and left for dead?

Who cries every night

Because in 12 years' time

She may stand face-to-face again with her attacker?

Who will cry for the boy

Who will not cry

Because he wants to be a man and men don't cry?

Who will cry for the children

Who keep crying though no one hears?

Who still hold out some hope

That society will hear?

Children who, through tear-filled eyes

Still look for the faces of their parents

Still wait for the call of a concerned neighbour

Still listen for the siren of the police

Still believe that a judge will do them justice

Who will cry for the children

Who have cried

And cannot cry anymore?

For them it is too late

Too late

Because their first cries were not answered

Who will cry for the children?

Will you?

- Binning
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The heart

It's as if he has a mirror

Sees right through to her heart

He sees the love, he sees the passion

He sees the caring thoughts

He constantly pokes it

Oh!

And pokes it, and pokes it

The heart bursts into tears

Please, please stop!

I'm about to tear

Huh? Who cares?

And continues to poke it

Continues to choke it

Continues to provoke it

But

The heart that loved

The heart that cared

The heart filled with passion Soon

was no longer there

Yes! The poking still went on

Yet the heart never tore

It had erected a fence

For all who never cared

So the more the finger poked

The less the heart choked

The less the heart cared

The less the heart got provoked

The less the heart thought

The less the heart loved

For a time had come

To say goodbye

It had mastered the master's art

No more did it cry

'Goodbye love' said the heart

'Goodbye passion'

'Goodbye'.

- Peta-Gaye Gordon
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Life's lessons

The hurts I've suffered in my life

Are blessings in disguise

I watched each day of my life unfold

As I sat mesmerised

By all that I have been through

And how I survived

But God was in my vessel

While I fought to stay alive

The lessons learnt were tough, I know

I felt them to my core

My sanity was now at risk

As trials were endured

Each day I wished I could reverse

The stories of my life

But yesterday will only come

If I think about it's strife

So now I've come to realise

That dreams they do come true

Mistakes and hurts are stepping stones

That make a better you

So I fight on with courage

For trials make me strong

Each day I'll count my blessings

And name them one by one.

- Ferne Brown
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Loneliness

When the time comes

When the troubles have just begun

When I'm forgotten

And my heart is really broken

When endless birds sing

A heavenly thought they bring

When loneliness comes around

When I am lying on the ground

By the time you turn around

Loneliness will be coming down

When I'm forgotten in a million years

When your eyes are filled with tears

When the time comes really near

When loneliness comes

Your heart gets filled with fear.

- Olivia Williams (Age 14)
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The moon was here

I was stunned by its awesome beauty and brilliance.

Motionless I stood as if glued to the ground, for if there was anything I adored it was a moonlit night

And yet, with whom could I share such specta-cular beauty?

My steps were forcibly quickened I was home-bound

For a moment I wondered whether I was dreaming, but no

the moon was there bright as ever

It was one of my childhood dreams that my courtship would be drenched by moonlit chatter

Walks

I, therefore, hurried home to my lover, but where was he?

Was he somewhere looking for me to share the moon with also?

No, I could hear his chatter in the living room as if he did not even know of the moon's existence

It was there waiting for us

I found solace in the painting that hung from the wall - I looked at it for when I did I was barely reminded of the presence of the moon

I tried not to look at the window for there was the moon, determined not to go

I managed to raise myself up and stood by the window - the beauty that struck me was one I could not recall seeing before

I stood there unable to move, I was petrified

The moon must have wondered why I looked so heartbroken, for although it tried to get me to go I did not respond

It was then that I made my return to my bed and hid myself so as to see neither the moon nor anyone nor anything

I was most disappointed - one of my most treasured childhood dreams had not come true!

- Cleopatra C. Wedderley