News & Events
Words and Music 25th November 2004
When will I Return?
We don’t know where we’re going but we can’t come back.
The seas a-sloshing round us as the boat begins to track.
The sun lights up the morning like a diamond in the sky.
A thrill seems to explode!
But why?
The dares for new adventure sneaking up my back!
A thousand eyes of water pursue us to
Where?
The glittering oceans – see the salt –spray fly!
The fish dancing under us to
What?
The time is swiftly ticking by: hour’s days and weeks!
When we get there we’ll respect the
But when?
By Rhian Frith 1st Year (Top)
(Click here for more First Year Work)
The Girl from the Shadows
I saw a face.
One half in shadow,
The other half illuminated in the orange street lamps.
A ghost.
Long matted hair hung limply
round a bony face.
A jutting jaw showed off thin lips
Scowling.
But in her eyes
I could see loneliness,
I could see sadness.
There was a gap.
Something missing.
Happiness.
This shadow stared,
Sending shivers down my spine.
But I knew,
Just as well as she knew
That this shadow demon
This ghost of the dark alley
Was just a girl
Just a human.
For appearances are not everything.
But to this child,
They were.
By Miranda Ross (Top)
(Click here for more Second Year Work)
The Face of a Nation
Apache, Cherokee, Comanche, Crow, Cree, Sioux
The savages or red-men of the forests and prairies.
Nomads, roaming in the wild, following the Buffalo
From the wilds of the ‘Far West’
Savage, cruel, mindless killers.
A beaten nation, heads filled with drink.
Long black hair, black eyes, tall and straight
Heads covered with the feathers of the war-eagle
Noble and dignified, silent and stoic
Skilled in crafts and folklore
Whose origin is beyond the reach of man
Originally the owners of the lands, which ranged
From shore to shore.
Given to them by the Great Spirit
A dying nation, rapidly passing from the face
Of the Earth.
Fallen victim to whiskey and small –pox
Few remain and the buffalo roam no more.
By Samuel Ramage - Smith (Top)
(Click here for more Third Year Work)
One Person
How can any
One person
Change so completely
Yet be
That same person
How can I be so
Entirely someone else
That I am incapable of knowing
Which I truly am
Was I?
Or am I now?
And if I was?
Where am I now?
Am I this person’s heart?
Or in their mind?
Am I their hands?
Or their feet?
If I cannot know
Am I supposed to guess?
Or should I continue to wonder?
Or simply drift?
Which do I prefer?
Or, which is better?
Which of these
Do people want me to be?
By Jenny Dickinson (Top)
(Click here for more 4th Year Work)
