Rapid Poetry

The 9 line Poem

Autumn

How can you ask me to collect the leaves?

Burnt umber pieces slowly descend from tree branches

Ashes of a paper burning in flame

Falling down so they can rest

Before the inevitable war comes

Spears piercing their hearts

I won't tame

what must

Fall

~ Sofia Veresezan

Illusion

I only wish that I dream of you again

When black fades to grey in my mind

I can only make out your shadow

Look for me in that space

Between truth and deception

A misplaced soul

My recurring

Illusion

~ Sofia Veresezan

Those little sweets candies you get as a kid

The Halloween candy you get as a treat

Those haunt me to this very day

I could see the Halloween decorations

Too little to know what?

I was too little

I was scared

It was

Creepy

~ Ellen Mu

They say nothing lasts forever and that sounds terrifying,

You’re my life, joy, what keeps me going,

I can sense our time fading away,

One, two, three, four, five, six,

Now, you cease to exist,

1, 2, 3, 4,

I’m all alone.

But why?

Time

~ Arshida Hedeshi

They talk to me differently than any person would
They berate me for all the bad grades

They see me as a hostile alien

They call me slurs in my face

They hate who I represent

They want me dead

I hate my

Ugly Disgusting

Race
~ Nikita Atwal

I think, that I am slowly falling in love

Falling in love with them slowly and gleefully

And I love them so very much

I love them more each day

They make me feel safe,

Makes me feel warm,

I love them,

Forever, Always,

Them

I know I’ve deeply fallen for them now,

Although I know I can’t, it’s forbidden,

And loving them is a sin,

But I can help it,

It’s them I love,

Forever and Always,

Mi Amour,

Them

~ Michelle Galor

They say nothing lasts forever and that sounds terrifying,

You’re my life, joy, what keeps me going,

I can sense our time fading away,

One, two, three, four, five, six,

Now, you cease to exist,

1, 2, 3, 4,

I’m all alone.

But why?

Time

~ Arshida Hedeshi

The dagger falls from her hands as she runs

She clenches the key tightly to her palm

Her cold shadow melts into the horizon

The hollow air suffocates my lungs

Boiling blood surfaces my skin

My legs give out

I am alone

Stay alive

Breathe

~ Chloe Chan

LadyBug

Going into winter, I see ladybugs on my window,

Crawling around the glass, with their miniature feet,

Trying to find way into the warmth,

Seeking refuge from deadly, harsh snow.

Tiny bodies can’t keep up,

From the strong winds

To closed windows.

Their fate -

Death.

~ Thaanya Jayachandran

PURPOSEFUL

Wrapped in a throw, surrender to peace-filled freedom.

Look out the window, reach for hot tea.

Leaves whisper carefully. Listen to their song.

Press parched lips against the cup

Feel liquid caress the tongue.

Welcome soothing jasmine. Deelish!

Right here, now.

Close eyes.

Reminisce.

~Dolene

NineLinePoemAnimatic.MOV

"It was dark inside the belly of the wolf .."

It was dark inside the belly of the wolf.

That's all that grandmother tells me.

Ever since the deceit of that canine fell upon our family like a curse,

Nothing had been the same.

That day, I trotted to grandma’s house with a basket of raspberry muffins

Although I despised them

(I hated the way the fruit’s vibrant red colour looked splattery over the soft grain)

They were her favourite.

Arriving to her home, I knew something was amiss by the door being left open

And walking into her room, by the rug being crumpled

By her great big eyes

By her great big ears

By her great big teeth

And by the way that her belly moved, outward indentations of hands and a screaming face

Always fear wolves, grandma told me, they prey on women like us

But now she had been swallowed by the same beast she spat on

As the wolf uttered demeaning words, inching his way towards me

I noticed the person in his belly moving around more

A loud scream muffled by organs and flesh and fur

But now I notice that it wasn’t a scream, it was a battle cry

Because the next thing I remember is the wolf’s stomach seizing

A point stretching out of expanding skin

It grew larger before it burst

In the out pour of blood, all I saw was a silver blade

The animal fell to the ground, unmoving

All I saw of grandma was the intense red of blood splattered on the otherwise, smooth and well kempt, tan of her skin

I didn’t know whether this was a part of her or

Something she adapted to, grew into

All she said was that it was dark inside the belly of the wolf

~ Shinmayi Kaleswaran

Twin Murders and a Piano

The man was breathing hard. Sharp, shaky breaths rushed in and out of his lungs as he sat on the piano bench. The bright spotlight was piercing his eyes so that he could not see what was beyond in the dark orchestra hall. All he could hear was the subtle shifting and murmurs of a thousand bodies, shuffling in time to his racing pulse.

He raised his hands, willing his fingers to turn to steady, agile creatures, ready to be unleashed upon the ivory keys. The crowd fell silent. He began.

He released his hands, charged with energy, to frolic and gallop across the piano. A bright, bouncing tune filled the hall. It pinged off the walls, the notes chasing each other playfully through the air, diving amongst the ears of the listeners.

The piano player’s hands could hardly keep up with the pure, undiluted energy of the piece. Sweat beaded at his brow. His fingers grew slippery, sliding across the keys, barely making it to their correct positions before being yanked away to a new one.

At last, the frenzied tempo raced too far ahead of him, and his finger hit the wrong note.

A murmur came from the audience at the discordant sound.

The man at the piano was in a panic. He tried to carry on, but the wrongness of the note amplified it a thousand-fold, so that all they could hear now was the inharmonious, jarring sound reverberating across their memory.

The piano player had been a ticking time bomb, a package of energy wound so tight that an explosion was inevitable.

He slammed his hands onto the keys, eliciting gasps from the audience. And when he started playing again, it was no longer the bright, bouncing tune.

His hands collided with the piano in a crashing of anger and nerves let loose. A dark, chaotic melody emerged from the man and his piano, the two now intertwined in a nearly tangible, crackling bubble of discord.

The audience shifted uneasily in their seats, but their discomfort only served to feed the man’s manic performance.

Low, booming notes were interspersed with shrieking high ones. It was as though the gates of hell themselves were opened, allowing rage and fear to run wild.

The man no longer cared. He no longer cared about a perfect performance, or how he looked with his tear-streaked cheeks and sweaty forehead. He no longer cared about the instrument he had devoted his entire life to.

The piano cracked and crumbled underneath his fury.

And thus, amongst the screaming of the audience evacuating the hall and the wailing of hell being let loose, the man at the piano destroyed the instrument of his downfall and smothered the burning passion he once had for music.

~ Joanne Lang

The Pianist/ Melodious Murder

The sweet melody of the piano fills the eerily quiet room and the stagnant town. The melody so powerful and otherworldly soothing. All around the people wonder of its origin, wonder of its player, wonder why they have never heard of it before. If only they knew the player is a killer, if only they knew the screams of agony the melody covered, if only they knew of the couple next door's death. But they don't. That's for the next day, now is for the melody.

~ Thaanya Jayachandran

As I sit on my piano playing my favourite song I look out the window. It’s raining like never before. I say to myself “ wow, I have never seen rain like this in 30 years” But upon closer inspection, it turned out to not be rain but to be two women’s bodies instead. The splatters on my window were not raindrops but blood splatters instead. As I turn to leave my piano I feel a slight tingle in my legs and that’s when I knew it happened and who killed these two women.

~ Ellen Mu

The Uninvited Guest at the Piano Concert

I walked towards the piano as everyone watched. I glided across the stage and sat on the piano seat. Silence. Everyone was waiting for me to play. So I played.

I began to play the most beautiful pieces the audience has ever heard. I paused. I could feel their eyes on me just waiting for more as I rested my fingers on the keys.

Then I played. I played the notes as they transcended up high throughout the theatre. “Clang.”

What was that? It was soft but it was there. I continued but there it went again. “Clang.”

“Sorry, I pressed the wrong key. So sorry!” I yelled out

Murmurs were heard as I stopped playing. The curtains closed as someone ran over to see what was wrong. “What’s going on?” They asked

I was puzzled. This never happened. “Something is wrong with this piano.”

“My deepest apologies ma’am.” They bowed

I sighed and placed my hands on my hips. “What are you waiting for? Check it out!” I demanded

They scrambled back and open the top of the piano. They froze. Their face turned pale white as they backed away slowly. This is ridiculous! I thought that this was supposed to be a professional theatre. These dimwits don’t know anything! “Get out of my way. I’ll fix it myself.” I jabbed

I walked over to the piano but stopped halfway. The smell. The smell was so pungent that it nearly knocked me over. I could hear people talking outside about something smelling weird but I didn’t think it was this bad.

I slowly approached the piano breathing through my mouth and peered inside. I stopped. I screamed.

Why did she put it here? She told me that she put it away!

This isn’t happening. I’ll get her for this. She ruined my moment. She’s going to ruin this for us both. It doesn't matter. She will take the blame for this. It's not like people can tell us apart.

~ Ellen Mak

Evident

The detective walked into the emptied room.

A long stemmed red rose was left atop a piano. Blood dripped from its fickle thorns onto the glossy surface.

The body was found opened down the front, unzipped of skin. Said heart was not pumping blood but overflowing with glass beads viciously stuck into it. The dark red fluid seemed to slide right off them, being repelled by its vanity.

The detective's eyes flicked towards the rose, and moved on.

A white collared button-up seemed to be flung across the room. It felt like the only thing in the room not covered in blood, but a simple stitch needled into it. It was ripped out, the black thread fraying at either end of the cut.

The detective passed the piano and the red rose to move to the other end of the room.

The big one. The furniture laying the length of a vast wall had been hurriedly pushed out of the way to make way for a saying on the wall, written in ink. It read: "Unfortunately I was the pedant who sought refuge in your heart."

The detective seemed more confused than when they entered the room.

They placed one meticulously gloved hand onto the surface of the piano.

The detective roved their eyes over each piece of evidence again.

Their eyes snagged on the rose.

And as they dropped their fist onto the keys in surprise, dark and unruly notes mimicked the detective's emotions.

What the detective thought to be the most normal part of the room turned out to be the most peculiar.

Because there was something about this red rose...

It used to be white.

~ Shinmayi Kaleswaran

Talented Individuals

TALENTED INDIVIDUALS

Talented individuals are naturally born. They speak to inspire and work to aspire their dreams. They are what they want to believe in themselves, their worth rooted deep inside and using their talent for confidence and presentation. Some don’t find it within themselves early on, it can take years but the message here is that talents can be used for professions or for pleasure or leisure; and it’s up to an individual to embrace it in the way they want. Talents come in many forms, and every single individuals’ is special and filled with pure grace and awe, even if it may seem weird to many. Even many great endeavors have used their talents to make an impact or contribution. Your talent doesn’t have to “make the world a better place” or “become something big”. It can simply be for yourself and even that is okay. Imagine what the world would be like if every single person embraced their talents

~ Mahathi Uppalapati

Why We Write

I write. To cope.

For the yells at home become background noise or none at all.

So that the tears well up, but don't fall. I write.

So the blood of my trauma bleeds through the page.

Such that I don't explode like those who I love, in rage. I write.

To make sure my ancestors are not forgotten.

To make sure I do not fail those whose deaths were downtrodden. I write.

When it becomes that my thoughts are too many.

When they refocus on things, not at all funny. I write.

As the uncertain future pushes in stride,

And school slowly breaks down my pride. I write.

And as piece by piece, verse by verse, chapter by chapter, I become whole, I realize why we need this like medicine for our souls.

So that the kid who can't say his troubles gets things off his chest.

The friend, escaping into other worlds, ones that accept her as her best.

So they who didn't talk, spoke through words.

And they who wrote for fun, to move in bliss, forward.

These stories are just as mine.

Sometimes we write just to be fine.

So I put down the pen.

I write, I listen

~ Shinmayi Kaleswaran

My writing: "Perspective."

Perspective

A plethora...yet several unseen,

Here we gather to share a passion for writing,

Incredible, young minds uniting,

This world cramps our minds into diminutive rooms,

Prohibiting us from allowing our standpoints to bloom.

Young minds are fresh, still easy to mould,

Let’s allow our minds to blossom and grow,

Days amongst these talented individuals are given as key,

To escape our chambers locked away, deep at sea,

Our writings originate from unique experiences behind those doors,

Thus the more we share the higher we swim to shore,

This opportunity has allowed our minds to steer,

Each week giving an excuse for smiles to appear,

For this, I must say I am truly grateful,

To be surrounded by such amazing people,

What an honour it’s been to feel this connection,

And sharing what’s been so long seen as abjection.

Perspective.

~ Arshida Hedeshi

Page updated

Report abuse