Page 106 - 1967

It was on that day, much like this
That I ended my life of joy and bliss. On such an ordinary day it came,
And ever since I've not been the same.
It started with a dare,
One I should've been able to bear, And ever since I've been plagued With woe beyond my share.
First it was some dope, then um,
and soon I discovered the only real dope was ME. I tried to beat it. Oh, how I tried!
But only to discover I had a craving inside.
It started on a day, much like this,
And ever since, I've experienced no bliss. No love had I, neither any pain,
And soon I discovered I was going insane.
ONE MAN
SECOND- JUNIOR POETRY
Who cares for the young man, Who fights with a will
To save the world
That we try to kill.
Who knows the young man, Who is wounded in the war. He begs for peace
But we cry out for more.
Who cries for that young man Who died "God knows where" Do we pray for his soul at night No, we don't care.
Lilyane Scelo
Now the walls are closing in.
Now the lights are growing dim. More and more I hallucinate things, You see that chair; it now has wings.
Round my head the visions swirled.
Up, down, and around they cur1ed.
Things were now coloured -- red, blue, and green And then in the distance I heard someone scream.
It started on that day, much like this
That I ended my life of joy and bliss.
And that one little dare I could've borne Has now rendered my life useless and torn.
So now you know that you just can't win,
So never, oh please, never let them get in! They dig down deep and won't get out
Until that day when They've carried you out.
Randy Morritt
CEMETERY STREET
THIRD - JUNIOR POETRY
We walked· down the street In a sort of a trance
And watched men in capes And tight black pants,
Our eyes moving to and fro
At anything that might come or go.
We watched ugly bats flying around
And the whistling wind made a terrible sound. Then down the street a drunk man strolled, His clothes were torn and he looked so cold. Then the squeaky gate swung left and right
As we passed the cemetery late last night.
Linda Jelly
LAMENT OF A DRUG ADDICT
FIRST - JUNIOR POETRY
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