National Poetry day 2016

These poems are the outstanding winners from our National Poetry Day competition.

Each received 1st place in the age ranges/classes.

National Poetry day 2016

The sun is yellow, the sky is blue,
The clouds are white, and I am happy too!
When it’s time for bed,
I dream of me dancing in the moonlit sky.
When it’s morning and time for school,
I remember reciting this poem to you.

by Nayel – Lower Junior

Jesus cleanses me from my sin.
With Jesus, people’s souls I can win.
Jesus lifts my sorrow.
He will never change,
Yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

by K.K. – Upper Junior

A Mystery Unsolved

There are many things I know,
Some more than others.
But there is a mystery I cannot solve,
It’s the desire of the human heart.
It is deceitful and sometimes cruel.
It thinks of only itself.
And that’s the way the heart rules.
It’s something you cannot touch or hear,
The feelings that come out of the human heart.
It can be confusing and even amusing.
You should not let it control your mind and your soul.
For the heart is deceitful as said in Jeremiah 17:9
And therefore, it cannot be allowed for it to control your mind.
There should be one thing and only one thing in control,
And it’s God who governs my soul.

by Ana – High School

What Are We?

We are the physical display of beauty,
but we are paper.
We are of a different size, shape, shade, and colour,
but we are all twins to paper.
We are the definition of the profound words you read in the dictionary,
But we are where the words are written,
we are paper.
We are strengthened, as paper is laminated,
But we are ripped up, and stepped upon harder,
we are paper.

We are the characters of which you read in a book.
Our reputations often built up by the way we look.
We are but paper and everything we put on ourselves, a pen.
We are paper.
Able to be torn, but able to be fixed.
Able to do good, but able to do harm,
to give a paper cut – to play dirty tricks.
We are but paper – owned, but daring to be free.
Fighting to not be carried away by the wind,
but to stand firm on our own feet.
We are but paper, thrown from place to place,
We are but paper, never knowing where to stay.
We are but paper, painted and put up,
advertising our services in return for love.

We are but stories.
Each one of us able to be written in a different way,
Some of us will reach our full potential,
But some of us will sit idle in the paper tray.
We are but stories,
Begging to be read, even though we know,
That once we’ve been looked over,
On the shelf, we may be left.
We are but stories.
All with an introduction, a climax – an end.
We are paper, and the air we breathe, scissors,
cutting our lungs, but still we keep on breathing.

We are but poetry, and the beats of our heart, the rhythm,
We are but a song, and the beat?
The beat is the pace of our feet.
The words are what we breathe,
When the writer stops writing, we will decease.
All that is written on us, we call them our beliefs,
even if they are not what we truly believe.
We are but stories, classed in a category,
rated and owned,
And at the end, you will see,
We are nothing less and nothing more.
We are God’s art,
in a literary form.

by Naomi – High School