The old Briefcase unfolds more

I’ve found a folder with some choice pieces of work from school when I was 12.  This piece of descriptive writing was from an exam and I kept it because I was pleased it earned me 38 marks out of 40.  It reminds me somewhat of Josiah’s 9 year old writing.  I guess we reproduce what we are.

The Night Out

A skylark flew up from the ruffled grass, annoyed by my selfish intrusion.  Its cry bubbled over the undulating landscape, only to be answered by that of another.  The light was now failing fast, but as I looked out over the fields I could see they were framed by a rosy glow of the melting sun.  The cold was now slowly catching in its grasp the evening’s last few bouts of summer warmth and  forcing them to conform.

As I knelt down to the spring my bucket clanked, contrasting sharply with the mild twittering of the birds settling down for the night’s sleep.  I watched as the mellifluous water ran over the sides of my invasive bucket.

I walked back to my tent and the set the bucket down just by the entrance.  having water meant that I would not have to walk a long distance in the early hours of the morning, when my limbs never do as by brain commands.

Sitting down in front of the struggling fire, I became aware of the wind gently rustling the top leaves of the trees.  In the distance, I heard a barn owl proclaim its presence with a characteristic cry.  I knew then that darkness was laying a benevolent finger on the muttering landscape and a sense of peace, of well being, overcame me.  I felt at one with nature.

I also found an old school magazine  from the summer of ’91 which for some reason has a poem of mine in it.  This was it:

Kingfisher

Calmly, watching in wait,

Sits a Kingfisher

Above the reflective water.

His warm, orange chest aglow

And his turquoise back glistening with cold elegance,

His slender beak poised to attack

A harmless fish, basking in mottled sunlight.

With the whisper of the grass,

The snap of a young twig

He’s away,

A darting blue speck of no importance

All beauty and serenity is lost.

I think it got placed in some school poetry competition.   But this poem by a friend is pure genius!

A Poem About Nothing

If nobody had no body

Nobody would know

No one could see anyone

Nowhere could they go –

No one would walk up to no one

To look him in the eye,

If nobody heard no voices

NO ONE WOULD REPLY!

Shabnam Khan aged 12

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About deerfeet

I am a home-educating mother of four children. We live on a small holding in Wales and my husband is active in local politics and the lead pastor of our church, Festival Church.
This entry was posted in Poetry, Reflections, Writing and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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