New Poet 1
Shannon Hopkins
I grew up in Taranaki and now live in the beautiful Bay of Plenty. I have
been writting for as long as I can remember, and I love it with a passion. I
hope one day to not only have my work published, but to publish other
peoples work as well.
HIDDEN ‘FRIENDS’
The darkness takes a hold
Open your eyes to this black hole
Hurt and envy your best friends
Dying inside to the very end
You lie to everyone you know
Tortured in a place so low
Mask you sorrows with an iron face
Give up now you’ve slowed the pace
Hide yourself, hide your shame
Everyday seems the same
Hide your love, hide your eyes
This obsession, your own disguise
Purge your hated memories
Starve your soul until it bleeds
Blind your heart and never see
Block out all reality.
WHATEVER HAPPENS
Whatever happens, remember to…
Hold your head above the ground,
And reach for the stars,
The sky’s the limit.
But don’t step on others on your way to the top,
Because happiness isn’t measured by success,
It’s measured by the relationships you’ve made with other people.
WELLINGTON
Spread you wings and try to fly
Close you eyes and slowly die
Bit you lip and pray for peace
For all this pain to one day cease
Scream in silence for a helping hand
Fall face first on this deserted land
Reach up to the stars in heaven above
Tears in your eyes for unknown love
The day has gone, the night is clear
No longer will you live in fear
The ghost has left, your all alone
All you have is your heart of stone
SPARKLE
A sparkle is one of the most beautiful things in all of creation,
Whether it be in the sand,
In the sea,
Or in some ones eye,
It’s beautiful.
But what we must remember,
Is that sparkles also have their dull times,
Just like us.
So it’s okay to cry,
And it’s okay to be sad.
As long as we remember…
That the sun will come out again,
And when it does,
It will be our time to shine!
IF I COULD
If I could be any thing,
I’d be a wave.
To come and go as I please,
To be as big or as small as I want,
And know that someone will always love me.
If I could be any time,
I’d be now.
For what’s the point in dwelling in the past,
And no matter when you are,
There will always be a tomorrow
If I could be any where,
I’d be in heaven
For there’s nowhere on earth,
As beautiful as the sky
If I could be any way,
I’d be the way of the righteous.
'Cos I don’t see the point in surrendering to bad,
When there’s so much good still here.
And if I could be any one,
I’d be the one for you!
ANDY
Sometimes you feel like you can’t press on
Like life is too hard and you’ve lost your soul
The end of the tunnel is so far away
Ask for help but don’t know what to say.
As you try to smile and face the pain
Hearing his voice brings you down again
“Harden up and face your fears,
Quiting’s a weakness and so are tears”
For this you gave up all that you loved
Now you whichever way you are shoved
It’s too late now to give up and go home
You’ve already changed, now you’re all alone.
New Poet 2
Belinda Campbell.
I was born in Gisborne NZ and I am currently studying at NASDA (National Academy of Singing and Dramatic Art) in Christchurch. I love reading, writing and speaking poetry, and its wonderful to dream about one day having my own published book of poetry.
Sunlight in the cemetery
Zombie turned headstones
where the earth has moved
and cracked
the rock. Iron bars,
twisted, rusty and deformed.
The dedication decaying
on the mossy plaques.
But this place is not haunted
- who could ever
disturb such a
beautiful place as this.
There is no doubt many rest,
forever in peace,
as the rolling hills
and reflective waters
surround them. Trees,
dabbling light, so still
hardly a whisper of sound,
except the ringing song
of the bell-bird,
and the soft sound of flight
from a passing pigeon.
It's worth the walk
on the muddy track. For
the best is yet to come.
Past the little waterfall
and across the stream you'll emerge
into the placid streaming sunlight.
There lies your reward.
How many have faded
that I have not read?
What lives have been lead
and ended here?
Who could have imagined
that my time in a cemetery
could offer some kind of
therapy.
But calm is in the air. Cool sea air,
and a warm, calm sun.
A fascinating calm.
Peace that touches your soul
and bit by bit
begs you
to take it with you.
New Poet 3
Sacha Mills
my name is sacha mills i am a 20yr old dairy farmer in taranaki nz i have always had a passion for reading and writing poetry as i find it an outlet to express myself
decisions decsions
a tiny life inside
so small,unnoticed, insignificant
a decision pending
your inner anguish never seen
a helpless being suffers for your mistakes
your anger, when in the middle of the night you wake
tearful eyes, frozen heart
why cant there be a brand new start
old enough to flirt
yet too young for birth
accidents happen often enough
you never knew this one would be so tough
one night of fun, months of pain
outside, sunny skies
inside clouds and rain
months of paranoia, months of sress
leave you feeling isolated and depresses
conscience and responsibility overule
you plan to tell all
fear and guilt begin to fade
a wave of nausea, a jolt of reality
you decide to bare all happily
in an instance a decision is made
awakened by a strong sensation
your scream making a bloodcurdling din
you've being punished for your sin
lost in a pool of blood lay your heart, life and soul
all that remains is an empty black hole
drawing in all your pain confusion and guilt
you watch as your life begins to tilt
your unborn child ascends to the sky
for days all you can do is cry
sorrow and sadness infiltrate you heart
an infected arrow has penetrated, like a dart
a piece oy you permanently gone
hopefuly the melancholly wont last that long
New Writer 4
Emily Esposito
I am a junior at Roosevelt High School in Seattle, WA. I've loved to write ever since I was about three years old, and I would
make my mom write down the stories I told her about run away walking sticks.
A Musical Friend
His only friend is his tenor saxophone. Everyone he has tried to befriend gets
sick of his vulgar remarks and crude jokes. His saxophone doesn't laugh behind his
back and make fun of him.
"Does he have a mental problem?" I ask my best friend.
"Yeah, he has Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder." she answers and looks at
the sophomore sitting by himself in the front seat of the bus, with his saxophone
next to him as loyal as a dog.
The next day on the bus, he comes and sits in front of me. He tells me stories
about ninja's and how he religiously dresses up as a ninja for Halloween. He explains
the different weapons they use and demonstrates their poses. It seems as though he
has never ending energy. He keeps going and going, like a conductor, never missing
a beat.
Every morning on the bus, the sophomore comes and sits with the freshmen. We
hear his extravagant tales and often nod politely to make him happy.
"When I do this," he says, rearranging his long brown hair, "it looks like I'm a
pyro German computer nerd."
I look into his icy blue eyes and see an empty void as deep as the ocean. He
longs for friends. He wants to spend his lunches with a friend instead of going to the
band room and practicing his saxophone. He gaze shifts and he starts talking about
who would win if there were a war between Asians and White people.
That night, I'm at "Hot Java, Cool Jazz" watching my friends in the jazz band. I
know that he is in jazz band, but when he comes on the stage, I see a different
person. The band starts and the sophomore stands up, taking center stage, and
starts to solo. When he plays his saxophone, it's like hearing a beautiful lullaby that
is rocking the audience to sleep. His icy blue eyes no longer show loneliness, but
passion. He clutches his saxophone as if it was his baby, and taps his foot to the
beat. Before I know it, the lullaby has stopped and the audience is standing up
clapping wildly. I never knew a human being could produce such beautiful music,
much less a sophomore
During school the next day, I pass him in the hall and he encloses me in a bear
hug and then reaches for my friends' groin. As we go our separate ways, I look back
at the sophomore that I once considered lonely. I do not have a passion burning
inside me like a forest fire, like he does. I do not have something that would melt the
iciness in my eyes. In the moment, I realize I am jealous of the boy whose only friend
is his tenor saxophone.
New Poet 5
Kathryn McIsaac
I've lived in Auckland all my life spending a lot of free time at my beach bach, in true Kiwi style, on the corromandel. I love to write because it inspires me, and poetry is one of my favourite forms of expression. I've just turned 16 and was 15 when I wrote this piece. I've been writing poetry for just over a year in all and I couldn't live without it now.
Koru-Patterned Hearts
When we're walking, lost in worlds of green,
Silver ferns curling elegantly,
And you link your fingers through mine.
No need for talking about what has been,
The tui sings with clarity,
Each pure note resonating into our time.
We find our own world where it's only me and you,
Enraptured by the sky above, a secret shade of blue.
There will always be koru patterns inked upon my heart,
Sparkling with the glitter you have sprinkled from the start.
Your heartbeat and the bellbirds cry,
Are the only sounds that I can hear,
Curled safely into your arms where I belong.
Captured by natures languid sigh,
With warm emotions sketched so clear,
Laughter immunizes us to every kind of wrong.
Our path has twisted and turned like the branch of a pohutukawa,
But at the end we blossomed into the redness of such ardour.
Under diamond skies you know that I'm thinking of you,
Manuka honey kisses sweet, leave sugar drenching through.
New Poet 6
Sarah Round.
born in wellington and have lived in both auckland and london. I currently live in auckland with my mum and brother while my father remains in london. I have been writing since I was a little girl.
You.Me.Us:
I want it to be just
me
and
you.
Nothing before, after, or in between of
us.
Nothing to the left or to the right of
us
Nothing under or over
you,
or
me.
Just
us.
It's you
and
me.
Could it be?
us.
