English creative writing

Golden Shovel Poems (Grade 11) . These poems were created by taking a line from a different text and creating a new poem by placing each word from the original line at the end of each line of the new poem.

Muffled Murder

A Golden Shovel after Maya Angelou’s Still I Rise

The mucous of green springs up Onto a buoyant lily pad from The deep dark waters below, where a Dragonfly battles to move past As he slowly suffocates - that’s Where he will remain rooted As his predator has succeeded in Causing him lingering pain And ultimately, this is where I Will see his detached wings rise

– Jason Baylis

Searching for Siegfried

After Frank Ocean

You obsess over the parts of yourself you deem flawed as tears fall down your face shimmering like crystals. I watch the stream of water hang off your face as I trace it back to the eye it came from. The one with the scar you said your friend gave you as they tried piercing your ears. I think you spend too much time looking at things that I, And many others don’t really see and you’re baffled by how we couldn’t Notice that in all of our attempts to gauge Strengths, we subsequently emphasised your flaws, bringing to life your biggest fears

The line I chose was from “Siegfried”, a song by Frank Ocean, the title is a play on the meaning of the word Siegfried (meaning victory and peace) whilst also giving credit to the title of the song referenced in the poem.

– Layola Mehlomakulu

Infection

After Gwendolyn Brooks

I feel so lost in this time when We Becomes Me. When the lines of discernment between fake and Real

Becomes not so Cool In this time when We Becomes me. When splinters of normality are Left Such as not going to School

For in this space of limbo We Continue to Lurk We cant be out Late

And so awaits the fate of We The deep suspense of potential covid Strike In this time when nothing seems Straight

And where I want so badly for me to be We Where we could Sing Where normality wasn’t a Sin

As We Becomes me, my patience is wearing Thin And households run out of Gin

And We Cannot feel like Jazz Or know our normality by June

Where We Live in a time where the word Die Could come to us too Soon

– Simon Henson

Letters based on An Inspector Calls by Grade 8s

Dear Mother

The events that occurred upon the evening of the celebration have left me both perplexed and enlightened. I feel somewhat obligated to address this with you. I bear the weight of being aware that I am partly responsible for the death of Eva Smith. This overwhelming feeling of heartbreak has been eating me up.

I fear that all of us having played a part in her death could lead to grave consequences. I fear especially for you and father because you both continue to refuse to accept your responsibility and remain arrogant and unmoved towards the situation. This arrogance will only lead to further complications. Furthermore, I’ve come to perceive that I am a fully independent young adult on the verge of marriage! I refuse to be dismissed and deserve the right to be treated like a 24-year-old woman. In the future, I hope that I am treated with the respect I deserve. As I address this issue with you, I’d like to explain this everlasting feeling of remorse that I’m experiencing. I hope that upon receiving this email, you will be enlightened and also feel remorseful for your actions. These actions have led our family into complete ruination. From here on out, I trust that we will be able to amend our actions and improve as people.

Let this be the first step towards building a future filled with opportunity to become better people. I hope that you can view this email in a positive light and move forward acknowledging our sins and learning from them.

Kind Regards Sheila Birling

– Wellington Sibande (Junior 8Z)

18 Downing Street London United Kingdom 2674

22 August 1910

Dear Mrs Birling

My name is Eva Smith and I am in a desperate situation. I have heard that your organisation does a lot to help young helpless women in need. I am pregnant and I have nowhere else to go.

It all started about two years ago when I got fired from Mr Birling’s company. I got sacked because my co-workers and I went on strike because we wanted a raise from twenty-two to twenty-five shillings. I couldn’t find any job for the next two months and somehow lived off the little money that I had. I was then lucky enough to get hired at Milwards – a clothing store. Three months later, I ran into Miss Sheila Birling at Milwards and decided to help her. After an awful misunderstanding, Sheila – who was a regular customer tried to get me fired and succeeded. I lost my job again and had no idea what to do.

After losing my job at Milwards, I decided to change my name to Daisy Renton for a fresh start. I had nowhere to go. My parents are dead and I have no friends. I went to the Palace Bar and became a prostitute. I am the type of person who has self-respect but extreme times make people do things they do not want to do. One day, I was cornered by an awful man, called Joe Meggarty who tried to manhandle me. However, a young gentleman by the name of Gerald Croft saved me. I fell in love with him after a while but he only used me as his mistress. The relationship lasted six months and I was heartbroken after the break-up.

I have been through a lot and would appreciate it if you could help me. All I need is a place to stay and some food on the table. Your help will provide my child with a healthy future. I thank you in advance.

Kind regards Eva Smith

– Samrat Basu (8Z)

Six-word Stories (Grade 8Z)

Future is Near, Possibilities are Looming Consequences Arise Once Lies are Uncovered

– Wellington Junior Sibande

They Throw Punches, You Throw Kindness

– Matthew Cole

Father the King, Son supposed Successor

– Tao Volkwyn

Buy a Clock but not Time Woke up, Remembered, Back to Sleep

– Samrat Basu

He Died so I Could Live I Love You, not your Looks

– Benjamin Smith

My Heart is Open but Broken Everyone has Value, Why not Me?

– Daluxolo Mtimkulu-Lillienfeldt

Sun Rising Bringing Forth New Days

– Jared Gaizley

Death and Depression, Victory for What Wake up, go to School, Repeat

– Bruno Moreira

Burnt the haystack, found the needle Buy a home not a house 80th birthday! I laughed and cried

– Brett Bulger

I was taught, now I teach! I can’t, I will, I’m great!

– Kamogelo Phiri

Got on One Knee, She Rejected! Life was Getting Hard, She Jumped

– Aman Razzak

Born Yesterday, Live Today, Die Tomorrow Lies Burn but the Truth Stings

The Sky Mimics her Eyes Beautifully Arrogantly Grunted as the Ocean Cried

– Matteo Ferreira

In English class, don’t use like!

– Mpendulo Mpofana

The Evolution of Life has Meaning Pain and Grief have Unimaginable Consequences

– Soham Gokul

She left me, now I’ll shine Dark Places have Room for Light

– Daniel Rundle

A Mother Becomes a Father

– Khotso Mabona

Buy a Seed, not a Tree Imagine the Unimaginable, Create the Uncreatable

– Jared Stern

I Died Without a Single Lie You Threw Me, I Got Up!

– Simon Less

He Swung, He Missed, He Cried! I Can’t, I Won’t, I Will!

– Matthew Mc Lay

Striker Goes Down, Never Strikes Again

– Jared Beilings

The Golden Reminder

I sighed and picked up the last bag feces. The sign “Kyoto Municipal Lavatories” passed over my head as my boots crunched in the snow. the bag flew into the overflowing lime green container as my breath condensed. The snow crunched twenty four times and my daily commute was complete. Those twenty four steps from my workplace to my home were worse than the job itself. Sorting through the mass of keys in my pocket each and every day attempting to find the one to open the padlock that secures my home pained me both mentally and physically. The ice covered keys burned my fingers as I opened the door and stood in the doorway staring at the masses of dustbin bags, toilet cleaning supplies, tools and plungers. My stained ripped overalls dropped to the ice covered wooden floor where they stayed forever.

My fingers screamed at me once again as I locked the padlock securing the wooden shack. Snow sloshing as the once green grass crushed beneath my feet. The bench creaked and snow rained from my hair as I sat down. I heard the loud sound of exhaling and was steam pouring from my mouth as I sighed. The snow crunched as the same people who crunched the snow everyday did it once again. Their droopy half closed eyes, miserable faces enraged me. Woollen coats, shining shoes and smooth briefcases attached to those depressed faces. the same face I saw on theirs they would see on mine yet below ripped pants, work boots and a material shirt. I sat until I could take the rage no more, headed home and commenced with the next part of my everyday life. The sound of chanting was all that could be heard in my room as i clenched the corss hanging from my neck. The same disdainful cross that has been suffocating me since birth. The chants themselves changed each day as the sinister fire within grew. Comparing the commuters to myself, same faces yet twice the possessions.

The flame got extinguished and the room went dark, the wax still dripping as my bed creaked and sheet rustled. The tales my childhood relied on stuck in my mind, an unfortunate someone praying day in and day out clenching their chain as I do and their wish eventually coming true in the form of a better life. My jaw clenched as these tales replayed in my mind, as my prayers each day did.

The sheets rustled and the bed creaked as the two hands on my watch switched positions as i battled sleep. The kettle whistled and my mug was no longer empty. My four possessions found themselves in a torn bag. My fingers screamed, the padlock clicked, the keys whistled and the bush rustled as they flew through the air and dispersed the snow covering the bush. My chain almost followed but the cold metal cross felt as if it stuck to my palm as the guilt froze my sinister intent.

Ice crunching and snow sloshing was all that I heard until eventually wooden rectangular structures appeared before me. Metal characters spelt out Kobe. My entire body screeched at me for fifty seven nights as I lay on the ice covered paving. Fifty seven days of rejection, even in the form of jobs worse than my previous one. the red rage never lessened.

My chain was hot on my frozen chest as the stolen loaf in my hands disappeared. Fifty eight nights of demonic nightmares in my mind that never left, it felt as if my chain would burn straight through my chest yet in the morning both my chest and chain were always still there.

The nightmares consisted always of a demon attempting to convince me of unheard of actions. Each night the rage towards the world and God grew and my shield towards the demon lessened.

The demon within my mind eventually took over. The eastern wall of Kobe’s impressive holy church appeared as if it had been stabbed, blood red paint in the shape of an upside down cross scarred on it. Pieces of metal that would have once resembled the chain worn by everyone in the land lay before it. Metal clanged as the paint can dropped to the floor an my feet crunched the snow. My neck was bare.

My head roared and echoed as the demon and my rage towards God merged and took over, I didn’t resist. Suddenly my skin was orange fur and hands were paws as I began to grow. I peered over the houses and their residents. Their huge eyes and shaking bodies only increasing the sense of power. Sinister intentions clouding my thoughts.

The beautiful paved roads of Kobe now ran red. Wood scattered everywhere as the once thriving Kobe now appeared desolate. What was once thousands of homes was zone flat mass debris. The lonesome sound of birds chirping was all that could be heard. As I looked down my claws shone as gold slithered over my crimson stained paws and cemented me to the ground. I struggled and sprinted yet the bricks below and debris around me didn’t move. My paws screamed at me. Gold snaked from the ground and slithered slowly up my body. Six weeks passed before I could finally feel the cold, shining, sun coloured metal devouring my head. One final inhale, one final exhale and final glimpse of my genocidal aftermath.

My mind clouded by that memory as it replays in my head as it has for the past one hundred and ninety years. The demon and I have shared this body for so long arguing and fighting as we watched Kobe be rebuilt and adapt to the ever changing world. The massive silver cross hanging from my neck as it once did and as it does around everyone who passes by. They speak about me as they walk past, the Golden Tiger, the Golden Reminder, not realising that I am still conscious as I serve my eternal punishment.

– Mateo von Cziffra-Bergs

Happy

Happiness is not defined by how much money you have or your social standing none of this matters to me happiness is walking with my tog bag down to the field lacing up my boots running out onto the field feeling the texture of the ball in my hands

happiness is smelling the salty thick air move through my lungs strolling down the beach sand between my toes

casting that line out into the deep blue sea feeling that tug and the whizz of the reel as you fight that fish or shark or something larger

happiness is not money or power happiness is the time we spend with family and in the things we really enjoy

– Declan McNamara – Gr 10

I love my life

I am a school boy Am I happy? I am a sportsman Am I happy? I have a family and friends

I love my gym, coming home from school lying on my bed with a hot take-away lunch reminiscing about my life

Appreciate your life A bad day is normal A good day is normal Ups and downs Highs and lows

Know that you’re loved Believe that you’re the best Dream until those dreams come true Love until you can love no more Spend each day with no regrets

I am a friend Am I happy? I am a brother Am I happy? I love my life.