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THE WOLF
"Crack! Crack!" goes a high velocity rifle, again and again;
A gray wolf, terrified of the hunter, darts from its lair;
Glancing viciously with threatening yellow fangs;
Its gaping, gasping mouth, foaming with
frustrated fear;
Expressing its determination to escape from a disastrous fate.
A bullet which hits home, sends the wounded quarry crashing to the snow.
In agony the petrified animal recalls the loving security of its infancy.
All through its life it has enjoyed domination; Now it lies dying in the blood red snow. The deadly sound of an approaching skidoo, Interrupts its peaceful recollection; The wolf half hears, half senses the nearness Of its merciless doom.
It gives a last desperate snarl;
As the cold metal of a Colt ninety-five touches its temple;
"Crack!"
Evan Wallace, P6B
HOME COMING
They plodded home from the Battle,
They were shaken,
Mud-stained, blood-stained,
They had no shoes, no helmets,
As for some, no wives.
They are greeted,
But few came back.
Wives go home weeping,
Kids stand in filth,
Waving tattered old flags.
Bruce Wilson, P7A
BUBBLES
A minute sphere,
Appearing, expanding, reflecting,
Multicoloured, tinted, rainbows,
Silent,
Ever changing sizes,
Wobbling, rotating, swerving,
Bouncing, racing, gliding,
Bubble, inside bubble
Joining, separating,
Blurred mirror,
Disappeared,
Disappointment.
Colin Jones, P7A
THE MACHINE
This machine is a medium sized box,
It has six faces,
And a number of places,
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Where you can push, turn, pull and slide;
It's quite an easy thing to hide.
It cannot see,
It cannot smell,
But it can tell,
If you disobey;
In any way at all;
Because it has,
A secret hiding place;
A hole inside the wall.
Alan Davis, P7A
MY SPECIAL PLACE
The old cave was dank, musty and eerie. The only light fell like great rays of floating dust, from a hole in the ceiling. The very stillness of the air attracts me like some irresistible force. Here, and here only, can I escape from the captivity and imprisonment of the world. These
old walls are no cage; they are a never ending life of freedom.
This is one place where I can tell my secrets. I can talk to the mosses and the ancient stalagmites. They listen, they too know the feeling of happiness and freedom. And while all the world maims the countryside, and the great forests, this cave is forever free of the great burden—Sorrow.
Even the water trickling down the slimy wall, wants one thing; it has one objective—to be released and to achieve natural joy. This is the only place where this great need can be found. While all the world argues and fights, this place is a peacemaker. No-one can squabble miserably in an awesome cave such as this. It is like a great church with a rocky altar.
So, this is my happiness; the precious few minutes that I spend here, are regarded as solemn, but yet carefree moments, where I can forget the past and the angry times. I can let my bad feelings slip away from me, so I am recharged with new energy and new life.
And when I leave the great church I look forward with unfailing hope and confidence to when I walk out calmly into the world.
Sean Dolan, P7A
THE STATION
When you walk into a station the noise is terrific: the sound of the trains coming in and out of the Station. While they are boarding, letting out the steam is if it was sighing at the thought of asking another load of passengers. The sound of people screaming, running, clattering, shouting, talking, walking and coughing. The humming sound of the little battery driven tractors pulling trailers full of cases, bags, golf clubs, carrier bags, and brief cases and all other kinds of baggage. Old age pensioners talk about the old steam locomotives which let out
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