# data[].attributes.headline
Wei Loong                             8-month Memories

# data[].attributes.subject
Wei Loong                             8-month Memories

# data[].attributes.body
Childhood—what’s meant to be a bliss.

Homework—an undemanding load.

School life—a carefree experience.

Reassurance. Home awaiting.

A bus ride lasting for an eternity.

The aroma of fresh food—

a stark contrast to the school’s.

Rock-hard salmon, blueberry pizza;

All the creation of the chefs.

Sharp stench of earth and grass

Music booming from the speaker,

Shuttlecocks rebounding off racquets.

The atmosphere of relaxation.

The routine of free time

All about to disappear…

All for independence.

A new year,

a new beginning.

New experiences,

new memories.

# data[].attributes.body
A bell rings.

Laughter fades.

People arrive.

Memories of home flood invisible banks, misshapen in the disjointed rollercoaster of year 4.

Alight heads and hearts dissolve into the gripping mist.

Strands of expectation dance float and fall.

Veils of weeping clouds wash over the clear sky.

Lush leafs hold each other like brothers in arms.

My mind is brought from taut to botched.

Forgotten enemies and collected friends are brought to light.

Golden time now full of engraved begrime.

Exams.

Passes and fails.

Alleviating words attempt to pierce my worry.

A sweet aroma burrows through the air like roots.

Heads are raised. Doubts are lifted.

The reassuring and gentle gaze of a teacher takes hold . A warm feeling spreads.

Another year.

Another chance …

# data[].attributes.body
Childhood—what’s meant to be a bliss.

Homework—an undemanding load.

School life—a carefree experience.

Reassurance. Home awaiting.

A bus ride lasting for an eternity.

The aroma of fresh food—

a stark contrast to the school’s.

Rock-hard salmon, blueberry pizza;

All the creation of the chefs.

Sharp stench of earth and grass

Music booming from the speaker,

Shuttlecocks rebounding off racquets.

The atmosphere of relaxation.

The routine of free time

All about to disappear…

All for independence.

More stress, less time.

Less free time, more load.

A new year,

a new beginning.

New experiences,

new memories.

# data[].attributes.body
Grandparent’s Death Memory

By Sophia Webber

Laces and shoes,

They’re meant to be

A family,

Convivial, magical times,

An adventure of fun,

Learning different things

From one another,

Laces supporting shoes,

Shoes supporting laces,

When one starts to fray,

Everything changes,

Lost, hurt, out of use,

Snap, a brisk sharp snap

A lace is gone,

No use for another

We burn the other,

Fire crackling, the frail lace,

Fading away,

My grandmother.

My grandmother so weak, so brave

So in love that

She ran into flames and smoke,

Laces and shoes

Shoes and laces,

One day,

One will disappear

And the other left in pain.

Falling tears

Life goes on; don't give up,

Loose a lace but don’t stop

It hurts for a while,

Things left undone,

Tenderness felt,

But we keep on going,

# data[].attributes.body
Memories of schooldays and childhood...

# data[].attributes.body
By Zara Faruki
One moronic move,

A symphony of laughter,

Now weak at the knees

Creating timeless memories.

Childish endeavours,

Feeling joy in painting.

Caked with fake make up,

As if she had a break up,

Cherishing moments,

That pull us even closer

Woven like velvet,

It cannot be counterfeit.

The bell echoes still,

Punctuated by our cheers.

Keen to crave new climes,

Yet missing these innocent times.

# data[].attributes.body
Where I am, it’s always winter
Even April is like December

I miss all the things we did late November.

Do you remember?

When the only music we listened to was on Disney

When there weren’t such thing as rumors.

It’s late September.

Coming October.

Slowly, memories of our times together

Fade away into winter.

Why is it that time is so cruel?

Each sole snowflake

Is like a teardrop that came from you.

“How have you been?” is what I want to ask,

But it only comes out as harsh whispers.

The clouds move further by and by;

Coming through a ray of light.

Has winter finally passed by?

Memories of laughter and happiness graze the air,

As if they were still there.

After the cold winter ends
Until spring decides to come again
Until flowers, they bloom again

No matter how long I have to stand,

I wait here for you

Because it’s not the end.

I know I will meet you again.

# data[].attributes.headline
A Mural Lost Among Memories By Joao Nina Matos

# data[].attributes.subject
A Mural Lost Among Memories By Joao Nina Matos

# data[].attributes.body
Seaweed lost among coral, coral lost among seaweed.

Each and every plant rooted deep in sand,

Immersed within the very walls of the building.

Uncontrollable laughter rolling around,

Standing enraptured in childish endeavours.

A constant swish of children, hurrying along

From class to class in elegant disorganisation.

Sharp smells emanating from new paint,

permeating noses with joyous colours.

Protective layers from dull work colours.

Standing enclosed in a bubble of exuberant, innocent colours.

A sea riddled with irregularity and unfinished work.

From crabs still in marker lines,

to sand dunes starting from nowhere.

Misshapen figures, barely fish

Lay accepted in the midst of beautifully painted ones.

Innocence and a beneficial lack of knowledge,

Invisible to us, detected by teachers, remained unspoken.

Each fish its own puzzle

Translating to the artist.

A discrete but present acceptance

Chiseled into the mural.

An ocean crawling with diversity.

Regardless of artistic ability,

Everyone left their mark,

Even if it lay in the dark.

The S.S. 6CP was the master piece.

Siting there wonderfully, original and unique -

Full of pompous, boasting, enthralling colours.

Fish hid in the sanctuary and warmth the S.S. 6CP gave.

A place lacking worry, full of bliss -

Protection from the unforgiving abyss.

The one that would reveal itself,

but only after the commas turned to exclamation marks

And the sky stuttered into an uneasy, anxious, troubled storm.

# data[].attributes.headline
Saying Goodbye                  By William Roué

# data[].attributes.subject
Saying Goodbye                  By William Roué

# data[].attributes.body
Copper tickled my taste buds like filthy air,

My bitten lip tormented me like a baby’s cry,

The turned heads of boys constant,

Hiding their weakness from judging eyes.

Memories faded in their little safe,

Crumpled, parched and withered with years,

Etched in ink on my mind,

Tainting my thoughts with solitude and fears.

Tear pricked eyes distorted my vision,

Slobbered snot vexed my upper lip,

Hollow hearts bore shallow breaths,

As I look back at our friendship.

Now the time has come,

Just to say there was no other,

That cared for me quite like you

So thank you…my brother.

# data[].attributes.body
Anticipation and fear hangs heavy in the air,

The tension is unbearable,

Motivational cries fly onto the field but they are unable to ease the nerves that consume me,

But as the ball leaps up into the air and flies towards me,

The nerves become strength and with the ball clenched between my arms,

I smash into contact.

My team erupts into life,

Shouts from all around me,

Players searching and attending to their positions,

In an instant, people surround me until the ball is spread wide,

The intensity is overwhelming,

Everyone gives their everything,

Pressure is high but the team spirit is higher,

We play not as a series of individuals but as comrades;

As a team.

Not even the delicious aromas and flavours of temporary food stalls can distract me from the beautiful game,

Underfoot the ground is rough and savaging on each fall,

But we are unphased from the match,

Chained by will, grit and determination we are diligent and desperately pursue a win at all costs.

Between us is an unspoken bond,

A Desire;

From the endless, persevered hours spent training,

To the changing room banter,

And numerous shared meals,

Numerous shared moments,

Glorious Victories – Painful losses,

Sometimes not winning, but always throwing our bodies on the line.

Wether we win or lose, we will always be one team, one unit.

# data[].attributes.body
Sweltering, sweating heat of July

Children ran wildly like animals

And balls flew gracefully into distant yards.

The aroma of fresh cookies permeated the air

You stared awe-stricken

At the mouth-watering delights.

The apple tree bore red, succulent fruits for you to pick

Before you sat, content, under its sanctuary of shade

And dozed off in an easy haze.

But in a flash of heat

The sky shattered in to a thunderstorm

And rained unto you new perspectives.

A revelation full of rage

An epiphany of emotion

A flash of fear.

Anger bursts, tearing deep self-conscious slashes.

Engulfed by pride and passion

And overcome by ever-swelling anxiety.

But it came to pass, these feelings of yours

This revolution of rage and passion

Transformed into tranquillity and serenity.

You were no longer a child, a caterpillar.

A butterfly emerged from childhood’s cocoon

And embraced the world with open arms.

# data[].attributes.headline
The Journey of a Life         By John Ascough

# data[].attributes.subject
The Journey of a Life         By John Ascough

# data[].attributes.body
There used to be a boy,

Who was perfect in every way.

Overflowing with joy and innocence,

That all he wanted was to play.

Trapped in a screen world,

Shapes and colours overdosed his mind.

He had only ever touched clean hands,

Though so much more was he yet to find.

There used to be a boy,

Now, a new-born man was in his seat.

His sweat suffocated the air,

A reaction of rapid retreat.

As he glanced into the mirror,

A black mark was upon his chin.

A mark that would not wash off,

A scar disguised within.

There used to be a boy,

Now a man that could only taste guilt.

His ears were deafened by broken hearts,

A glass of tears he had spilt.

At the bottom of the steps of life,

Stood a man with more layers than skin.

Enjoy childhood memories while you can,

As the darkness will creep in.

# data[].attributes.body
Blowing out the cold smoke,

Bitterness remaining like a worn out coat.

It’s dark,

Hoping to see a spark.

Why is it that time is so cruel?

Memories of laughter and happiness graze the air,

As if they were still there.

Everything’s being wiped,

Memories being deleted and retyped.

Where I’m stuck its always winter,

In April it’s like December.

Stuck chasing after a time on a train no one will remember.

The dust that circles the earth,

It flies through the air.

If I was flying like dust,

Able to clutch memories in life’s burning glare.

Clouds moving by and by, a ray of light piercing the sky.

Has winter finally passed us by?

After the cold winter ends

Until spring decides to come again

Until flowers, they bloom again

No matter how long I have to stand,

I wait here for you

Because it’s not the end.

I know I will meet you again.

# data[].attributes.headline
A bittersweet confession - By 3 anonymous rebels

# data[].attributes.subject
A bittersweet confession - By 3 anonymous rebels

# data[].attributes.body
An honest confession

We’d like to make,

Concerning all the rules

You made to break.

Chocolates that did taste so sweet,

Were the core of midnight feasts.

Clock struck ten, pick up the pace,

Strutting round covered in lace.

She made an effort;

Bought us KFC,

If only she knew

We waited till three.

Vampires up till 3am,

Breaking in the brew room again,

Pick the lock, toast the bread,

Back to the bunker bed.

All night we wait,

For our distant fate.

Like prisoner

Waiting for escape.

Confession, confession,

Let the secrets bleed,

Through all the holes

You sent through me.

Broken tools,

Broken rules,

Leaving school,

Rebels rule.

# data[].attributes.body
Away In Portugal

By Nina Shariff

Soaked by the sun,

lost in adventures,

away in Portugal.

Colossal waves

looming over me,

we flew over them

on our surf boards,

Tracing footprints

of older cousins

in the sand,

aching to be older.

Sugary treats

melting in my mouth,

wolfed down.

Racing back to the ocean

without a care in the world,

away in Portugal.

Wafts of salt and sand

lingered in my mouth

as I tumbled to the bottom.

Climbing rocks

made me feel

in control.

Catching crabs,

not knowing the

consequences,

Shrieks of excitement

filled the air,

one of them was mine.

I followed the rest,

my heart content,

away in Portugal.

I came back,

years later imagining

that it would all

be the same.

But it wasn’t.

Sweltering heat

swarmed around me

Aggravating children

screeching,

screaming.

A familiar smell

floated around,

sickening, sweet, repulsive.

Sand irritatingly stuck

between my toes,

Trudging along the beach

I made my own footprints

in the sand.

All the attractions

I once created where gone,

away in Portugal.

The salt, sand and sea

were a mere dream.

All the memories where faded.

Away in Portugal.

# data[].attributes.body
The Stairs of Childhood
It’s going.

The turtles, mermaids, dolphins and whales.

All of it,

and the memories that came with them will fade away.

A vibrant seaworld to an sea of grey,

energetic chit chat to dull mature conversations.

Stripping away the fun times,

evolving into the people of our futures.

The pain au chocolat oozing with chocolate,

sickeningly sweet.

Laughing at spilt water,

Sopping it up with soggy paper towels.

But it’s going

The turtles, mermaids, dolphins and whales.

All of it.

And the memories that came with them will fade away.