MARSDEN
POETREE LEAVES
Featured Writers
WELCOME
Take a look at the tabs above to see work from some of our talented young writers here at Marsden.
We hope that you enjoy reading our work created during the
Creative Writing Workshops, led by Faith Wilson (MA in Creative Writing, VUW International Institute of Modern Letters).
Read her writing tips here.
A Sugarcane (A Sestina)
Rosi sat on the bamboo platform
above the plantation and swung
his chubby little legs
back and forth so they slapped into
the wood with a hollow
thunking noise.
His grandmother winced at the noise
She pulled him across the platform
And into the hollow
Of her lap. Overhead vines swung,
With insects hovering and trying to get into
The room, to bite at Rosi’s legs.
Rosi squinted at his legs
And made an impressed noise.
He found a stick of sugarcane to stick into
His mouth, and rocked the platform
With his wriggling, so it swung,
Wriggling too in its hollow.
His grandmother’s eyes were hollow
She pinched his legs
But still the little room swung.
Rosi listened to the creaking noise;
He loved the platform.
No knowing now what he’d gotten into.
Somedays his grandmother was into
Forgiveness, ignoring hollow
Excuses. Up on the platform
She admired little things; sunlight on her legs
Red hibiscus, bird song, a little noise.
But Rosi couldn’t tell which way her mood had swung.
It had swung
The other way, into
Annoyance at the rocking and his noise.
Her eyes stayed hollow
As she slapped his brown legs,
Steadied the platform.
Rosi made a keening noise and the sugar cane
swung out of his mouth, into a crack in the platform.
He clutched his legs and looked into her hollow eyes.
Samantha Lloyd-Evans
Chapter One from 'Sonata'
The high ambassador’s daughter squinted at the vase of flowers and added another stroke of lilac to her painting. Her tutor stood behind her, scrutinising her work.
“There’s simply too much purple on that vase, Guinevere!” The tutor clicked her tongue crossly.
The girl sat up straighter, posture immaculate, and grinned charmingly. “Amelie! You said that I could let my imagination flow with this still life. I simply don’t see how there can be ‘too much purple’.” Her eyes sparkled as she glanced teasingly at her tutor. Amelie sighed.
“Child, Mexican daisies are not so bright. Even in the whole of La Grande France you would not find such a bright flower. A subtler, perhaps lighter shade of lilac would be more suitable.” She continued to watch with interest as the girl heeded her advice and dabbed at the canvas.
“But Amelie, this is far too dull! How on earth are people supposed to find this dreary colour delightful?” Guinevere scowled at the vase, irked. “And for the last time, do not call me Guinevere! My name is Gwen!”
The tutor sighed. “Perhaps, Gwen, you might like to say farewell to your parents. Or had you forgotten?”
Gwen’s eyes grew wide, and with a flying leap she was away from her stool and out the door. She didn’t have time to say goodbye from the courtyard, so she dashed up to her bedroom and flung open the largest window.
“Mama! Papa! Au revoir; Good luck!” Gwen called, scrambling onto the windowsill.
Her parents, Nathaniel and Julie, stopped and waved in huge arcs. They would be gone for nine months maximum, the average stay for members of the King’s Court, and usually Gwen wouldn’t mind, but this trip was secret. No children, even perfectly trained young ladies, allowed.
The King’s Court was waiting. Her parents dashed across the courtyard and into the carriage, Guinevere’s mama pausing to wave at her daughter before the sleek black door slammed and they were off to Paris Optimus Maximus. Without Gwen.
Gwen sighed, looking away from the scene below. Part of the ornate windowsill was digging into her spine, so she shifted and hopped down from her perch. Amelie curtsied.
“Mademoiselle, they will return within a year,” the tutor said softly. Gwen sniffed.
“La Deuxième Vienne is so dreary, Amelie. Can’t we go to Lipizza for a few months?”
“Sonata,” Amelie began slowly, using her special pet name for Gwen, “How would you like to help me with… errands?”
Gwen perked up and turned to fully face her tutor with a questioning look. “What type of errands? I thought the maids did all the shopping.”
For a moment Amelie was undecided. Her pupil was smart and skilled in many ways, but she had far too loose a tongue and had the potential to cause chaos. And then again, her parents were away for the better part of the year, so what riper time to begin Gwen’s training than now?
“Little things,” she said slowly. “Practicing your martial arts with other people. Exercises with the blowgun I gave you last year.”
“Those aren’t errands,” Gwen reprimanded her. “Dreary.”
Amelie frowned. “You’re too arrogant, Sonata. There are other things to do though.”
Gwen wasn’t convinced. She frowned and turned up her nose.
“Oh?” She demanded with a haughty air about her.
“However, seeing as you are so blasé toward what I suggested, perhaps we should work on your arithmetic instead.” The tutor paused, smiling. “No?”
Gwen shook her head silently, scowling.
“Midnight raids,” Amelie began. “It would be dangerous. You would need to hold open windows and comfort dogs, hold darts and watch over children.”
Gwen raised an eyebrow, as if Amelie was some exotic animal that Nouveau Autriche had imported from somewhere exotic. . “And what if I accepted the tasks?”
Amelie smiled mysteriously. “You shall see, young Sonata.”
Samantha Lloyd-Evans & Ilona Mackinnon
My Sister
My sister looks a lot like me.
Brown hair and drowning blue eyes.
She’s short like me.
And slim like me.
But people say that when she’s here,
She’s very different.
She’s been here for a few years.
I first started seeing her when I was young.
I share a room with her now.
But mum and dad say she’s not in the family.
And they never smile when she’s around.
I don’t get to see my sister much.
She comes out every once and awhile.
She doesn’t have any friends.
But everyone’s around her when she’s out.
I think that’s why when she’s here,
She always screams.
I think Mum thinks she’s sick.
She’s always taking us out when my sister’s here.
I’m trying to fix her,
I hear mum say.
I’m trying to fix her,
Trying to fix her,
Please fix her.
At night I can hear my sister cry and shout.
I think it’s the pills they give.
Mum won’t let her out.
Says she can’t come out.
Says she shouldn’t come out.
Ever.
My sister looks a lot like me.
Brown hair and drowning blue eyes.
She’s short like me.
And slim like me.
But people say that when she’s here,
I’m very different.
Molly McCalman
The story behind the photograph
I've never not performed. My whole life, I've been stuck in this tank, swimming in circles for the benefit of these humans.
David, my trainer, waves a fish in front of me. To the crowd's utmost delight, I shoot out of the water and snatch it from his hand. This job is stupid. It gets boring. I want to tell him. He doesn't understand. None of Them do. They just sit there eating their sticky pink clouds of sweetness and laugh at us.
Lissie watches me from her hiding place behind a boulder. She's always been here, observing our every move. Memorising our every dive, flip and leap. "Korah, get over here." She calls. "And get Kaiden."
I shake my head. "Lissie, I'm busy."
"Busy doing what exactly? Entertaining an inferior species?"
She has a point. Lissie's the only one out of us three that was brought in. She's been out there. She's seen what They do to us.
I glance up at at the surface and swim back to Lissie, ignoring David's whistle. "What? What is it, Lissie?"
She shook her head. "I need Kaiden here. I'll tell you both."
I nod and bolt through the water to my brother. "Kaiden! Kaiden, get over here!"
Kaiden growls, and splashes the crowd with his tail. "Korah, we're supposed to be working!" He snaps, diving down. He glances back at the audience. "What do you want?" I gesture to Lissie. Kaiden’s eyes narrow. “What does she want then?” He asks.
The crowd boos from above the surface. I blow a stream of bubbles in anger. Kaiden had always had something against Lissie, saying that she liked to believe that she was superior. That she knew it all. And that she was trying to affect me with her wild ideas. “Kaiden, I don’t know. Just come over here!” I hiss, slipping through the water towards Lissie.
Kaiden follows reluctantly. Lissie nodded at him. “Well….” Kaiden prompts, his eyes darting to the surface. “This had better be good.” He mutters. I roll my eyes. Lissie smiles at us mysteriously.
“Tonight, boys,” she starts, “we get the heck outta here.”
Genevieve Austin
Whiskey
The taste of
Adulthood
Is the second-hand
Ice cubes
Poured from his glass
To mine
Because my little brother
Used all of them to make
A puddle
On the kitchen floor
And a glass is enough
Anyway
Cos’ the driving limit
Is so high
These days
Leila Barber
Disturbia
Children rustled, parents bustled. It was the day of the Mulberry Lane school fair and everyone was anticipating it to be the best one yet. Room 13 was to be turned into a Haunted House tour by Mr Purcell. He’d been spotted, sneaking through the shadows at the back of the room. Bubble wrap monsters now lurked in the shadows, grinning maliciously with piercing teeth and polystyrene footprints leading into the corner. The Year 6’s contained the secret. Sam and his friends had been chosen by the one and only Mr Purcell as the ghosts; they were to hide behind the doorway and jump out and scare the visitors. The first jump-scare of the tour. With an entry fee of just $2, Sam was expecting a ton of little kids to arrive, masking their hysterics with naive smiles. He’d scare them out of their wits. Suddenly the room turned black. Mr Purcell had turned off the light switch. Henry and Sam shuffled into position and the room turned silent, waiting. Waiting. Sam was sure he had heard a noise. The more he tried to ignore it, the more he told himself it was nothing, the more convinced he became that there was something or someone downstairs….”The visitors aren’t supposed to enter through the door at the back of the room” he wondered, puzzled. “Mr Purcell is the only one down there. Waiting for the visitors to pass by, to give them the final and biggest scare of the tour. What’s the noise then?” Sam quivered, the task of a ghost was a remaining burden, hardly contained by now.
Paige Martin
Old rocking chair by the Christmas tree
I sit in my old rocking chair by the Christmas tree. The one that I always sat in. In my festively decorated living room with the warm, fireplace crackling next to me. My whole family fills the room around me yet I sit alone. My son and his wife, all my grandchildren including little Robbie who only turned 5 this year. All the aunties and uncles and cousins are here too. The people I grew up with and the people I watched grow up. Generations upon generations all coming from near and far to be here. It’s a family tradition you see, the whole family coming to my dear old house for Christmas. Even though it’s been a year since it happened, they are still gathering here in my old house and decorating the Christmas tree together. My husband died 5 years earlier. He refused to come here with me tonight. He said it would be too painful for him, to see them all but be unable to communicate with his beloved family. But I wouldn’t miss this occasion ever in all eternity. So it’s just me, in my rocking chair by the fireplace watching my nearest and dearest smother the spikey pine tree in bright lights and colourful tinsel and pile the baubles and decorations on until the branches can hold no more. The children giggle and dash in between adult’s legs while mothers place carefully wrapped gifts under the tree for tomorrow. Men chuckle with beer bottles in hands, excitement and anticipation hovers in the air. Suddenly I realise that my husband’s favourite old fashioned Christmas carol record is blasting through the old stereo. Smiling to myself I think about how happy he would be to see that our family is still carrying on his little custom. We all used to make fun of him for insisting we play the dreary carols every Christmas Eve. But, I notice that no one complains anymore. The carols are a comfort, a little piece of my husband here with them today.
I watch the joyous scene unfolding before my eyes. My dear little Robbie, with his head of light brown curls, is ambling around trying to help with the tree decoration and I notice that he has got a strand of red tinsel, still attached to the tree, tangled around his leg. As he obliviously runs the other way, he pulls the tinsel and he begins to pull the tree over with him. I yell, “Stop, Robbie! The tree!” They don’t hear me even though I am screaming at the top of my lungs. No, they don’t give me so much as a glance, but, what more did I expect. The tree begins to fall and, just in time, two of the uncles yell and step in to catch the tree, stand it upright again and untangle Robbie from the tinsel. They laugh and my son runs over to scoop Robbie up in his arms. “Da-ad!” Robbie protests but soon everyone is gathered around laughing and tickling him. Oh what I would give for them to notice me. To be able to hug the people I love again. To ask my grown up granddaughter what she plans to do with her life. My husband was right. It hurts not to be able to celebrate with them. I feel I am on the side lines, watching a show that I used to be a part of. I shouldn’t have come here. I was warned not to visit, to intrude, or to haunt. My family have grieved and they have moved on. I doubt Robbie even remembers me, his Grandmother who loved him so. After all, he was only three when I had to leave. Fate is so cruel. Tears pool in my eyes and drip down my soft wrinkled face. My 40 year old son laughs and hands Robbie the Christmas angel to put on top of the tree. Lifted on to his Dad’s shoulders, my little Grandson reaches for the top of the tree and places the angel firmly on top. Robbie grins triumphantly and looks around at his family who joyfully cheer from below. Then, suddenly, he freezes and stares directly at me. I don’t know how, but he seems to notice me. I sniff and wipe my tears to smile sadly at him. Robbie pauses for a moment then smiles back slowly and shyly. Wait, they told me this couldn’t happen. He shouldn’t be able to see me. Yet he opens his small mouth, “Please don’t cry Grandma!” he calls to me. I smile a little wider and lift one hand to wave at him. “Who are you talking to?” asks his father. “Grandma!” replies little Robbie proudly, pointing at me. “She’s sitting in the old rocking chair by the Christmas tree!” They all slowly turn to look at me, confused. “Don’t be silly.” They all say. “Grandma died last year Robbie, you know that.” Robbie is still beaming at me. I savour the moment knowing that I won’t be back. A tear drop lingers on my cheek, “I love you!” I mouth to Robbie, from my old rocking chair by the Christmas tree.
Tegan Martin
Right by my locker
Tick tock tick tock the hands move slowly round the clock. I've been here for two hours sitting here waiting. I'm going mad not going outside but I can't I am alone in this world. I can't find happiness it's gone disappeared from my world nothing left to treasure except the emptiness inside no one to love to hold and cherish their presence, why am still here still living still standing still breathing why not stop.
my names Victoria I live in Liverpool in the UK. I live with my family in a little house on the edge of town and go the big high school in Liverpool. I am 16.
I don't really have any friends not that it matters I spend most of my time in the library reading poems and stories it's my only way to escape the hell that I live in the torting comments the words of hatred cutting like knives against my skin.
My arm is covered in red as the blood seeps from the long cut across my wrist
not good enough ,ugly ,brat try hard.I watch as the blood drips of my arm and onto the bottom of my school stockings and seeping in and going a dark black. I hid the blade in a tissue and slip it in the pocket of my skirt I pull my sleeve down over my arms so all my scars are hidden underneath so only I can see the ugly being underneath . I swing my bag on my shoulder and tell mum I am leaving for school and walk along the street to the bus stop.
"watch it Benton" Sarah say as I accidentally bump her with the edge of my bag.
"Sorry" I mutter
"Shut up no one wants to talk to to a twat like you" Sarah says in a loud voice that gets everyone else at the bus stops attention. I just put my headphones and play music and what till the bus arrives I get on and sit in an empty seat at the front.
"No one to sit with a Benton "Sarah smercs in a horrible way as she climbs on the bus and heads to the back to sit with her popular group of friends.i just ignore it and put on my headphones back on and sit back in my seat.
"Good morning class today we have a new student can we all welcome Luke Prior to our school and I have chosen Vic to be you buddy to show you around and help you settle into or school"
"Thanks " Luke mutters and sits down in the empty seat next to me I can hear siniggers from behind me and can tell Sarah and her friends are ones behind it. I just ignore it and look over at Luke who has taken his seat next to me I can see he looks very nervous and is gritting his teeth and tapping his foot.
"OK form dismissed head to your first classes I head over to Luke.
"Hey my names Vic what class do you have firs"
"Maths"Luke says in a soft voice near a wissper.
"Me to" I reply in a quiet voice.
"Maths is this way follow me" I say we get to maths and it seems normal except Sarah seems to have more nasty remarks than normal but what can I do I'm into deep. Luke seems rather good at math but is still very shy but I don't blame him he just moved to a new school so what do you
expect. The next classes go fast and it's now time for english the only subject i actually like.
"Today class we are going to write poems any type you like at the end come and show me your poem and some people can shear there's ok" we all nood
"Good now get started"
“does anyone want to shear?
i slowly put my hand up
“go ahead vic”
Sun over head, bear
feet sand flying everywhere then tumbling
on the ground big hands grasp
small ones with such care and pull
the the small one close,
are you alright my little explorer?
better than the moon
and the sun together
dancing in the sunset
she replies but then the world fell
around her. the hands
which made her feel safe gone
all that’s left is an empty
shadow hollow bones the
sky's turned gray lighting
cracking over head, light other
than the storm gone and hasn't come back.
waves crashing
on the rocks one
slip and drowning
can't breath
in too deep
silence.
"Yours is really good" Luke whispers from the seat next to me.
"Thanks" I reply
"I just do a lot of writing in my free time so I guess I have more practice at it"
"Can you teach me how to write like that" Luke says which takes me by surprise
"Sure "I say "when do you what to start"
"Any time from now on any time you're free I guess" Luke says in a now more quiet voice
"Ok do you want to come over tomorrow"
"Sounds good says Luke just as the bell rings signalling the end of class.
I pick up my books and start to walk to my locker when
"Hey Benton got a crush on the new kid well what a crazy person would love you back so keep"
"He's just my friend and I'm helping him write a poem"
"Ha good luck with that hel realize you're ugly lamo before you even start whatever your doing”
“why don’t you mind you one business sarah” i snap which takes her by surprise but only for a second before she is standing their with a evil smile on her face.
"Ha don't cry when it all crumbles around you and disappears like it never existed" she smirks.
"don't worry it won't" I say.
"Let's wait and see about that" she say and walks of.
"Just you wait " I mutter under my breath.
"Just you wait "
I pick up my books and walk to my locker grab my books “see you tomorrow” says luke and walks of in the other direction. I stand there and smile for a minute before picking up my books and start the journey home.
"Hi mum"
"Hi honey how was school" mum replays in a chirpy tone.
"Good one of my um... classmates, Luke is coming over tomorrow is that ok?"
"Shure honey, that's fine"
"Ok im thanks i'm going to do my homework now bye"
What if Luke doesn't like me what if he's just like the rest of my class taunting and mean with nothing nice to say so saying something mean is what they replace that with taunting words and snapping at me to move to get out of their way get on their level.
the next day was a normal day until the end of the day we had science luke came up to me and asked if i was still up to helping him on his writing.
“it's fine if you've changed your mind” says Luke staring at the ground nervously.
“of course” I reply. which seems to make Luke a little less nervous.
“ok” he says with a little smile “ I was just so scared that you didn't want to any more because that's why I didn't really talk to you today “sorry”
“don't worry it didn't change my normal day for the same routine i've had for years”
Luke let out a sigh of relief “oh good i didn't” Luke trails of.
“so do you want to get going?”
“ok lets go”
my house is a quick bus ride and a short walk away. when we got home mum made some snacks and we went to my room with all our books and stationery.
“ok first of all what do you want your poem to be about?
“ I don't know how did you get the idea for your poem?
I want to tell him but I don't know him well enough to feel like I can trust him so I just sitting there staring at the ground until I say
"It was about me, well me and my dad until he died and my world came crashing down and all I feel was like I was trapped in this world of horror and was somehow drowning in it"
I turn to look at Luke who is sitting there stiff with a face of shock and pity.
"I'm sorry I should have known"
"It's not your fault you didn't know "
"But I asked and I shouldn't have"
"No I'm glad I told you it's nice to tell someone "
"Have you not told your friends
"I don't have any" I say my eyes darting back to the ground
"I don't either, do you want to be my friend? Says Luke
"I'll like that very much" I say looking up at Luke a wide smile growing on my face.
Bella Gauld