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THE WAVES ON A MOONLIT NIGHT
I see the beauty of the waves.
Blue and green and silvery;
Like slaves, yes. just like slaves
They pull the water from the master sea.
They look as though they're trying hard
To reach the sandy shore.
But. alas, for they are barred
From the place that they adore.
For now you see when those waves do break.
The heartless tide will drag remorselessly;
But those poor waves, who are always awake
Just try for freedom, again, unendlessly.
MARIANNE OGBORNE. 8G.
THE WORLD TODAY
Caught in a world of rush and pace.
Left to a fate much worse than death —
Starvation.
No food to feed the nation.
Racial trouble, greed and lust.
People killing for a crust.
Dominating all is hate.
Make amends before it is too late.
MARILYN MOFFAT. 10C1.
MAN
A child is born, is smacked, gasps for a breath. They laugh at him. although
some cry — with joy. He lies in his cot. screwing his tear-soaked face, kicking
his small powerless legs and thrusting his clenched little fists at the peering
forms that loom above him. And they laugh at him.
They stand him on his tiny feet, and push and pull him along; he stumbles.
and they laugh.
He grows, and as he grows they laugh at the things he does. Sometimes
they don’t laugh, and he is confused. When he cries, he is smacked; when
he laughs too loud and long, he is smacked; when he remains silent, he is
smacked — for being stubborn.
He grows, and he isn’t laughed at much now. He hears man saying words.
and when he copies the words he is sent from the room in shame.
He grows, and is encouraged to venture into the world. He ventures, and
is told to stay at home.
Eventually, he meets a woman — the woman. They marry. Some people
laugh for joy. others cry. He is confused. He sees many things around him.
which remind him of the forms that loomed down over him when he was a
tiny child — he sees love, friendship, good. bad. sickness, poverty, injustice.
A war comes and someone must go. They cry as he leaves. He sees fear.
hatred, pain, killing, sorrow. He returns, and they cry because he has returned
safely. He is confused; yet he has begun to accept the strange behaviour of
his fellows, and has taught himself to ignore and forget.
A child is brought into the world — his child, and as it cries and takes
its first breath, he feels pity for the child. He knows that some will laugh for
joy, others will cry; the child will feel as he has felt. He becomes older; some
of those who peered into his crib, those at whom he thrust his fists, are long
dead. He sees death all around, yet does he really care ?
He dies; yet is he any wiser for having lived ? No one laughs at him now;
many cry. “Those of us who knew him well, knew what a wonderful gift from
God he was,’’ the priest says. Yet, they were always laughing at him. staring.
peering; smacking him for confusing right with wrong, yet never showing him
the true difference between the two.
He dies with a smile on his face, for he knows that no matter where he
goes in death, he will know no more confusion, fear, hatred or ignorance, or
any of the feeling of mankind.
And this is man — poor man.

JULIE GIBSON. 12A.
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