Long time, no write


Woohoo! First I’d just like to celebrate the end of exams, which were actually last week, with the few remaining followers of mine, I don’t even know if your still out there and going to read this, I may be talking to myself but nevertheless. To celebrate the end of exams and pretty much year 10 all together, I think I’ll post an English assignment I had to do. Here it is, a sonnet to the book; Ender’s Game, by Orson Scott Card, we actually did a novel study on it last year but the teacher allowed us to write a sonnet for it anyway.


Ender’s Game Sonnet


A boy of eight, a third surplus child.

With the world’s fate in his murderous hand,

Once guiltless, once mild, but now wild.

Shed of his sins in space, only to brand


His strangely innocent but injurious mark.

Loved and hated, friends and enemies made

Ender by name, ruined dreams as his stark

Journey to the top pool left others staid.


Petted, fooled, isolated and betrayed

A ruthless abyss opened beneath him

A breach into a nightmare to evade.

With hands mutilated by death and grim,


Thousands killed in his wake, forever dead

It seemed.  Yet no-one knew what lay ahead…


Picture It & Write: Bitter Sorrow


Bitter sorrow is the taste on my tongue,

Strong southries caress my cheek.

Way up here I can reach the marshmallow clouds,

Far below the sea hurls itself angrily against the steel pillars.


Up here I can see everything, feel everything and think everything,

The scarlet spray of his blood splatters across my mind,

A deep shudder reveberates down my spine,

Like the impact I felt from driving the hammer in his skull.


Again the wind strokes me, taunts me, welcomes me into it’s open arms,

I can sense the devious flash in it’s movements,

Still I find myself standing on the edge, it’s arms waiting…

Waiting to let me slip into the turmoil beast bellowing below.

Tanka- Burning Breath

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Burning Breath

Deadly red fingers

Licking it’s flammable prey,

Hot tendrils emerge.

Benightedness kindles it’s

Melody of ruination.

A force of nature,

It’s a contagious disease.

It’s unstoppable,

Natures injurious demon.

Fire, Hades of trouble.


Lest We Forget

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“Lest we forget”, a line from a poem called, “Recessional”, written by Rudyard Kipling for the Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jublilee 1897. The poem is now, also sung as a hyme on Anzac day, a national remembrance day for New Zealand and Australia, originally to remember those who fought at Gallipoli during World War I. It now commerates a broader range, remembering all those who fought in both World War I and II, those who put their lives on a thin line to support their allied countries. 

The reason why I’m giving this history lesson, is because today is Anzac day and I felt I needed to post a tribute type thing,  to remember my ancestors. So here I have posted the entire poem, “Recessional”, by Rudyard Kipling, if you care to read.

God of our fathers, known of old—
Lord of our far-flung battle line—
Beneath whose awful hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!

The tumult and the shouting dies—
The Captains and the Kings depart—
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!

Far-called our navies melt away—
On dune and headland sinks the fire—
Lo, all our pomp of yesterday
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe—
Such boastings as the Gentiles use,
Or lesser breeds without the Law—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!

For heathen heart that puts her trust
In reeking tube and iron shard—
All valiant dust that builds on dust,
And guarding calls not Thee to guard.
For frantic boast and foolish word,
Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord!


Lest We Forget!




The moon in the sky

Takes it’s podium up high

Just for us to see.


When the stars convene

Up high where they are pristine

Out of reach from me.


Night Breeze

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Night Breeze

Dark night is silent

Breeze blows a soft melody

Nights demulcent voice



Monty, My Best Friend


He looks at me with loyalty,

Seeping from his eyes.

I pat him on his head,

And wish him good bye.

His wet, brown nose,

His curious, yellow  eyes,

His wiry, woollen fur.

Reminds me to always smile.

He does what’s best,

And only asks to be caressed.

He’s always by my side,

and usually abides.

His long, lolling tongue,

His belly wanting to be rubbed,

His attention seeking scruff.

Reminds someone’s there for me.

For he’s my best friend,

so close he could be kin.

I’ll love him always,

except when he sins.


By Sphrbn

*This is a description of my dog; Monty. (My Gravatar thingy, is a picture of him.)