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April 26, 2011 By Catherine Cousins Leave a Comment

Future Generation – Caitlin Law

All work on this page is copyrighted and has been digitally sealed to retain its integrity. If you like what you read we would ask that if you want to use it please do contact us in the first instance or at the very least acknowledge the author. Please also be aware the work you see here is from young writers who want to share their work and develop their talents and so we ask that any comments should be encouraging, appropriate and informative.

My Sonnet

Deep red blushes across a leafy face;
rhythmic storms of fragrant colour.
Perhaps a waltz of gold and copper, vying for a place
in the transient spectrum of retreating summer.
Though it seems autumns’ won the fight,
as the sky bids farewell to the intense blue it once embraced,
sending its poignant farewell off on its infinite flight,
To reach a rain sodden earth, obediently bowing under an enemy too often faced.
However nature’s not quite ready to relinquish yet;
the crawling fingers of a sinister winter still being kept away,
while an ethereally reminiscent auburn light keeps beauty safely in the net.
And the inky yellowness of a solstice sun keeping the frost at bay.
Besides its not all doom and gloom.
There’s still the sky’s greatest treasure to be unveiled – a rising harvest moon.

©2011 Caitlin Law

Filed Under: Future Generation Tagged With: future generation, Poetry, Sonnet, Young Poets, Young Writers

February 17, 2011 By Catherine Cousins 2 Comments

Future Generation – Frances Butcher

All work on this page is copyrighted and has been digitally sealed to retain its integrity. If you like what you read we would ask that if you want to use it please do contact us in the first instance or at the very least acknowledge the author. Please also be aware the work you see here is from young writers who want to share their work and develop their talents and so we ask that any comments should be appropriate and informative.

How not to boil an egg

I would like to say ‘it’s just a phase’, but its not … I am a teenager, and I am totally incapable of boiling an egg without creating some supremely disgusting stink, making a total racket comparable with that of nuclear warfare or smearing boiling water all over my dad’s new cooker. That’s me … an incompetent teenager, good for nothing.

You might say I’m lazy, that I should be able to be independent at my age, and yes, I know, when you were my age, you had a job, you were earning money, baking cakes and sewing buttons onto coats. I’ve heard it all before and I know what you’re thinking: I’m an incompetent teenager, good for nothing.

The other day, I decided to brave an attempt at making myself a lavish breakfast… well, a boiled egg at least. So, I boil the kettle and carefully place my egg into the pan, and go and watch TV.

1 hour later, half way through some horrendously tedious daytime TV, a suspicious smell enters my nostrils and I shiver at the realisation that my egg is likely to be disappointingly blackened. Burnt.

I clumsily stagger to the kitchen on my Saturday-morning legs to be smothered in a fog of fumes and sure enough, the pan has boiled dry, the egg timer melted into a puddle of liquid plastic and my egg has sizzled to nothing more than an unidentifiable lump of I-don’t-know-what.

At this point, you probably want me to explain myself. Ok, I will, I’m an incompetent teenager, good for nothing. Besides, I was bought up by a mother who refused to allow her three year old children to paint, bake or undertake any activity which had the potential to damage her precious carpets. One exception to this rule was that we undertook regular outdoor water fights, however, I must emphasise that this was purely because it meant that we were going to be cleaner when we finished than we would be when we started. It is for this reason that I have had no experience of the more – let me say –  adventurous experiences in life and as a result have had no desire to attempt to acquire skills in the cookery department.

I have therefore come to the conclusion that I am better off being an incompetent teenager until it is no longer possible. You may not agree but, I forgive you, after all, you didn’t see the look on my mother’s face when she identified the cause of the rancid stench of a plastic and egg combo that clung to her deep pile carpets.

I think I’ll stick to cereal for my breakfast in future.


Filed Under: Future Generation Tagged With: 2QT, future generation, futurewritersandpoets, Poetry, writing, Young adult, Young Writers

February 15, 2011 By Catherine Cousins Leave a Comment

Future Generation – Meg Richards

All work on this page is copyrighted and has been digitally sealed to retain its integrity. If you like what you read we would ask that if you want to use it please do contact us in the first instance or at the very least acknowledge the author. Please also be aware the work you see here is from young writers who want to share their work and develop their talents and so we ask that any comments should be appropriate and informative.

No – longer

She said she won’t set herself on fire for me no more.
I surrendered, to every word and whisper,
Triangles of empty promises,
Frozen in deceit,
Your liquid fire no-longer scolds,
For in your amour in once did mould,
Your shape’s now pathetic, lost and weak.
Your eyes no-longer bear a soul, no remains for me to seek – just a wasting freak.
Your shadow may have once defined the pathways of my thoughts, but I ask you this time my love,
No-longer, No more.

Addiction

Crusting embers let fall to the ash,
The dim glow,
A reminiscence of a once devouring heat,
Eyes drawn tight from slumber,
This fire offers a whispering murmur,
To those who seek comfort of a disconcerting nature.
Which chord strikes the note; desirable?
The myth of an unbreakable format?
While the tired facade of reality sobs,
Soundless – out of sight, out of mind.
And netherless we fail to realise,
This is the potent face we fear to ostracise,
Perhaps it’s not yet close enough to kin?
The empire’s treasure glitters from tainted mirrors,
Refracted from the dictator’s angle,
To convince the porns of the beauty brigade,
That the only light of the prism worth seeing is that which entices man.
Usually a sultry tinge of purple stains to create the mask.
In parallel with knowledge; if not correctly displayed, it is trapped within.
The beholder looks on with a doubtful eye – the media’s iris seeded the foreign body is not our own.
And will we set out to divert this jaded perception? Or lay on our backs for more.

Filed Under: Future Generation Tagged With: 2QT Publishing, Poetry, Short Stories, Teenagers, Young adult, Young Writers

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