Wind
Whoosh, fwoosh,
Scowling down the midnight streets,
Dancing, prancing through the air,
Meeting, greeting, fleeting, gone,
Having fun all night long,
Until dawn breaks and it is gone.
By Rohan Pickett 2014
Wednesday, 17 September 2014
Colour Poetry
Red is blood dripping everywhere from my head.
Red is anger booming, from Dubai to France and back again.
Red is the colour of a rose glittering, shimmering, sparkling in its soil over there.
By Ryley Coatsworth
Wednesday, 27 August 2014
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