Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquillity.” William Wordsworth

The teenage mind is always bombarded with questions, emotional uproar and spiritual turmoil. Poetry has the ability to allow our teens to let these feeling spontaneously overflow without any feelings of guilt, shame or judgement and allows them to think about their thinking. We call this process metacognition and it helps us to move out of the processing happening instinctively in the primitive and emotional parts of the brain and bring our thoughts into the prefrontal cortex where student can recollect their thoughts and find tranquility.

Great focus is placed on the study of and writing of poetry in the final term of Grade 7. Students get to express various emotions and thoughts as they write poetry on topics such as, Good Bye Primary School, Hello Tomorrow, Simply Angry, Screenagers, amongst others.

Here are some examples of the beautiful poetry written by some of our students:

 #real/fake
Emma Giles

Riley has a ‘perfect’ life.
Looks amazing.
Surrounded by friends.
Stunning in every outfit.
She goes to crazy places.
#havingsomuchfun, it says on her recent post.
I wish I had her life.

A girl sits at her computer.
Wishing, dreaming, imagining.
Hoping that one day she could be that perfect.
Have that perfect life.
#instaenvy.

She gets up from her computer,
looks out her window and sees a whale breaching.
The sun rising over the sea.
Making the water glisten.

Which makes her realize that
#perfect/imperfect
#looksamazing/photoshop
#friends/alone
#love/hate
#havingfun/bored
#happy/depressed

She takes a breath and lets Riley go.
Seeing what’s real and right in front of her.
Experiencing, connecting, being.
#real/fake.

IMG_2467

Nostalgia

Rose Williamson

The silence swallows me whole, covering my skin
And revealing my secrets and scars that adorn
My body like a dress made of struggle and triumph
Hitchhiking up my sides, and traveling across my shoulders

They make up war paint, the kind that can’t be washed off
With soap and warm water, the kind that artists imagine
On their next model, sitting tall and poised
An image of astounding beauty that isn’t real

Distorted by mans visions, and wars that have been “won”
Do we ever win? Is there ever victory in something so barbaric?
How does one find peace in ones violence,
The mere thought I cannot fathom

We flew to the moon, imagined we touched the stars
Instead, we hurl abusive shrapnel at the opposition
Hoping that they will surrender, which they do
With pounds of shame weighing their shoulders down like damp clothing

Drowning is never a feeling one wants to experience
One would rather see the immaculate side of reality
To sink, or to swim… one would rather merely float through
Life, as if it’s nothing but Time’s servant

We dance through the dusk, and lope through dawn
Hoping that we will catch the Moon, before it dies to give its lover
A chance to see Earth, and what she can do for it
He says to her every night, “Till forever does pass..”

My skin… it’s so delicate, so no wonder it’s scarred
With the blunt trauma that Society has called “Normal”
But they don’t care about my skin, my bones or blood
But rather the physical beauty that will be stolen from me in decades to come

Maybe one day, we will wander through the beautiful mysteries
That elope our world in shadow and light
Maybe one day, we will finally see the Moon and his lover dance again
As the stars applaud us in satisfaction

It becomes clear to me that Time will leap and bound,
But never will it rid of us Nostalgia

IMG_2468

Comments are closed.