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The nun
gen. 21 ⎯ No traduït Do hearts lie? Because I can hear mine cry, for the forbidden ties it must form, and her call she must forsake. Like a parrot that just learned to vocalize, my heart sings of serenades, a forbidden song to my heart, for she was never to be deflowered. She has blossomed now, and her garden is full of butterflies, and this time, she hopes her heart never lies, because if hearts do lie, she could not be feeling this way. She is north pole and he is her south pole, for she can't alter her magnetic field, always moving towards him. She feels this strong attraction towards him, despite knowing that she should never have such feelings. She is a nunn, stranded between agape and romantic love although her heart craves the romantic one,and she has already sinned in her mind.
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A boy in grey
gen. 20 ⎯ No traduït I’ve been watching him for a while now, And I ask myself, What does he think the world is made of? He holds a knife between his fingers, tries to sharpen a stick. but it vanishes before he realizes it. He throws it away and leans against the wall. He strikes the wall with the knife, carving some kind of note. music only the wall could know. soft yet rough, like the hum of a giant who forgot about music long ago. He bends, picks another stick, tries again, more cavalier this time, and the stick breaks. And so he keeps breaking it. He stares at the trees, as if to heed their warning, a warning against him toying with what was once part of them. He glances at the little house, Its roof brown and dark, a chimney exhaling smoke through tiny openings, into the air, so jubilant, Yet weary and stressed. Hands sinks into his pockets, a grey hoodie with white sleeves, a yellow trouser fading to brown, dirt robbing its color, and he its meaning. I just keep watching him, and wonder: What does he think the world is made of? By LinusLi
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The society
gen. 20 ⎯ No traduït They say literature is the mirror of society. Perhaps kids are. I developed this fondness of watching kids play, And fight and talk and scream out madness, And in their madness, I saw the society. I have been watching them play. And dance to the silent, wheezing songs of the wind, And waltz in the rain as the rain pours out on them. Thunder cheering and lightning taking snapshots. And in their play, Have watched those who rule and lead and dictate, And among them, some were crueler than they knew. Those who follow and are followed, And those who let justice slip through their fingernails, Dripping onto the soil like the honey pouring its sweetness to nothingness. And those who pursue justice only to have it done against them. Kids are just kids. And they are doing what they feel like they should be doing. And they live a life assigning themselves responsibilities that are not. And they know not what is going on in society, Yet they play it well.
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Hope
gen. 17 ⎯ No traduït The night was dark and cold, But we wore courage, bold. Our sight blurred, yet we still cared, And holding on, we dared. The night was dark and full of terror, Every corner heavy with fear,but our minds still learned to hope, clinging to it like a final gate to heaven, for in the dark,no safe haven appeared. The night was dark and cold, the lights were dead, but our hope refused to fold. Linus Kipkemei
