The Creationary Corner – Issue #1 (An introduction)
Welcome one and all to the latest weekly litteray venture brought to you by the Bubble. Here at The Creationary Corner all creative pieces are welcome, from poetry to scripts to short stories. Here I wish to showcase the great creative talent of the school for all to see, with no limit on age or ability. If you have the passion to create the Creationary Corner has a space for you.
To start off I’d like to present a few poems that I myself have written to kickstart this project. Next week however will be all up to all you creative minds out there.
If you’d like to submit a piece to be considered for next weeks issue please contact me by email at 2hurleo@royalhospitalschool and I’ll be sure to get back to you as soon as possible. Many thanks in advance, I look forward to seeing the amazing talent that you have to offer.
“Fallen in Silence” – By Oliver Hurley
In earthly foundation she stands
Painted o’er with life’s thick breath.
Drenched in the light of being, reaching
To friends she’d never met as she saw
Their sparks erupt, slowly with time, she watched
Them grow and live and fray.
In that place where night is day,
Where silence is life, where stillness is play.
There she stayed and took in the cold
The damp, the airy.
The lofty frost and the summers bite came
And gone, none distorted, all changed.
That place the same, living, dying, being,
She watched it stay.
In her own way she lived and breathed
And loved and was loved.
She fell without a sound,
in peace she hit the ground.
She watched without dismay.
Watched it fade away.
“Saviour/The Prince in Roses” – By Oliver Hurley
A single rose, sparkling, sublime
In a bed of death, stark
Against the encompassing light,
The ever-changing life
Of all those who abide
Here, alone, afraid.
A boy, but yet young,
Adorned in radiant pearls,
And yet aged for his years.
Forward he steps, and forward again
Arriving unfazed in that place where
The light surrounds the peaceful,
The love beats back the fear
Of losing its eternal gleam.
He stands there, serene, servile
To all who see him know him.
He is kind, he is angry.
An extended palm, he kneels,
A thorn reaches back
And blood runs down sallow fingers.
It flows to the ground, no sound.
A smile, he sits, alone.
In that dry place of dust and decay
He smiles, he blushes, he swoons.
The rose smiles back, alone.
A river of blood, the styx incarnate.
They smile, alone, together,
He rises, a swan with covered eyes,
He paddles to the edge, he dives under
He feels the warmth, the rise feels it too.
And like that he’s gone, peace.
A single rose, in radiant pearls,
In a bed of sparkling life
Against the encompassing dark he
Feels alive, he breaths
Here, he smiles, safe.
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