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Bilingues et Artistes...

N째9 ...The Wonderland of Solitude


January 2011 Solitude. We tent to associate it with a negative connotation. Facing life on our own isn’t pleasant, but the mere thought of it suffices to send a cold chill down our spines. Yet we artists often have a different outlook on the world and its mysterious ways. Hence, the title of this edition: ‘The Wonderland of Solitude’. A maze for you to get lost in, where the very complexity of all your hidden thoughts are finally exposed to you through an invisible looking glass for your protection. Indeed, no matter where the labyrinth leads you, what page you end up exploring, you may relate to an aspect of a certain piece of literature or work of art, but you are preserved from any grief it may bring you. The solitude exposed here is comforting, not hurtful; It is a wonderland where behind each gruesome, mossy stone hides a violet half hidden from the eye, like William Wordsworth might say. Solitude. This frightening sensation, threatening and powerful, can bring out unknown facets in everyone... ~ Editors in Chief: Louis Denizet, TerL * Rachel Forster, TerL Writers: Aisling Martin, 1°IB * Matthew Broadbent-Meznaric, 1°IB * Tobie Barb, 1IB Photographers: Iris Colomb, TerES * Vincent Virat, 2°6 * Thomas Sittler, 3°4 Artists: Margot Bravi, TerL * Dorelle Sluchin, TerL * Louis Denizet, TerL


Part 1: Love...


Teller She told me, once upon a time, That all men are boys Running around playing with toys With charades and pantomime. She told me, once upon a day, That my hands were dirty Yet she hated my purity. I held her that special way. She told me, once upon a night That we were all so priceless Waiting for the worlds niceness, For our lonely shining knight. I told her upon that morning That it did not suffice That to her I'd sacrifice, Myself, my darling. I'll tell you right now, That life'll treat you worse Than what you're worth And hope that now, you know

By Tobie Barb, 1ère IB


White Rider All I hear today, The click and clop, As the tears drop ...His horse rides away. Hair in a knot, Just been shot, Love that shuns, The smoking guns. The smirks and quirks That his love Makes, perks And rose thorns. The cold metal, On the grey stone, A rose petal, Cries: Revolucion. In chorus the wheels Drew you apart, As the metal squeals Upon your heart.

By Tobie Barb, 1ère IB


Part 2: Life... « The skies they were ashen and sober. The leaves they were crisped and sere The leaves they were withering and sere; It was night in the lonesome October Of my most immemorial year: It was hard by the dim lake of Auber, In the misty mid region of Weir It was down by the dank tarn of Auber, In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir. » Extract from « Ulalume » by Edgar Allan Poe


Lost

From my choleric mind The gloom warps into existence, Haunting my every move, Daunting my every step Through these halls of desperation, These walls of desolation. A mire of anxiety at my feet, I sink powerlessly, The yellow bile slowly Drowning my terrified spirit. Like a vulnerable creature Ensnared in a trap, The panic overwhelms me, I writhe, I bleed, My frantic efforts Impaling me deeper, My terror showing no mercy. My delicate mind agonizing As the walls of lunacy close in further, As the imagination overflows, Spills like a thousand screams. I feel myself slipping back into Dyonisus’ arms, the demented orgy Rocking me to the serene bliss Of lost rationality, Of reclusion from reality.

By Matthew Broadbent-Meznaric, 1°IB


Elegy to Your Soul

I glance sideways; spot my reflection in the dark window, What have you become? What has she done to you? All I see is a pale echo of what you used to be, A translucent husk of a past blazing spirit. -You seem distant, cold… -Just tired, I’m fine… A heart can only take so much before it stops beating, A soul can only suffer so much before it lets the mind take over. You can only be empty for so long before you lose all emotion. -Are you still awake? - …… How can you love without a soul? How can you live without a heartbeat? -Stay with me… Please… What is a man whose flesh casts no reflection?

By Matthew Broadbent-Meznaric, 1°IB


I dont wanna dream, about all the things that never were New country, new school New faces, new life. So forget the old dreams Those ungranted wishes. No one knows me here No one can hurt me here No one can rip my life away And shred it to nothingness. They could steal my shine Steal my happiness Like a shadow steals The suns warmth But no one here can They don’t know me. I’m safe from the claws Safe from her. The sister, the mother The one who was always there There to ruin me. To break it all up and steal. Take everything from me Boys and toys; ideas And schemes; looks and My ecstasy in life. But she’s gone She’s far away now Its all over, At least for now. You could be Just like her. Waiting for a heart On a sleeve, to rip out. You could be her All over again.

By Aisling Martin, 1°IB


Part 3: Lessons... « I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs, Rotting flesh and worms do Not convince me against The challenge. The years And cold defeat live deep in Lines along my face. They dull my eyes, yet I keep on dying, Because I love to live. » « The Lesson » by Maya Angelou


“Sometimes…

...you put WALLS UP

Not to keep people OUT…

...But to see who CARES ENOUGH

To break them DOWN...”

Thank you for reading this edition...

Bilingues et Artistes  

The EABJM's artistic magazine where the imaginative worlds of teens are unleashed for your entertainment!

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