Our Secondary students enjoyed Petra’s first ever Poetry Slam, an element of our House artistic competition. Students spent several weeks looking at the Fruit of the Spirit as described in Galatians 5:22 and were challenged to write a poem that reflected one or all of the virtues listed. Nineteen students took up the challenge and then presented before the student body, with two of our Humanities teachers scoring their efforts both in writing and presentation. Below are our 2nd and 3rd place poems.
Far back in the woods is a pond,
in a meadow of trees tall and old.
It ripples like glass and it shines as you pass,
it sparkles like gems set in gold.
In summer the meadow glows green,
with the songs of birds borne on the breeze.
The fish in the ponds swim so carelessly on,
and the warm sun shifts bright through the trees.
In fall the meadow is filled
with the colors of thousands of leaves.
Wind carries them down spiraling toward the ground,
drifting gently with grandeur and ease.
In winter the meadow is white,
with the ice glistening clear on the pond.
The barren trees shudder with snow that they bear,
that then tumbles on down through the fog.
In spring the great meadow revives,
as the life gently blooms ‘mongst the woods.
The blossoms fold gently from trees young and old
in this heaven of beautiful goods.
If ever you do find this place,
tucked far back in the woods and the hills,
come quickly and find me and show me the way,
to a home far from toils and ills.
He walked along and saw all he could see.
Within a hall of pictures, paintings, art.
They all held symbols of what he could be;
a man of God, or a man of his own heart.
One held an image of another man.
Whose vice was that he loved his looks too much.
To sit, to stare and watch, his only plan.
The viewer’s thought was how can art be such.
He walked along and saw another still.
Of man and wife whose house was filled with gold.
They would not stop and share a single bill.
The filled their days with all that could be sold.
The viewer’s heart was sad from what he saw.
Each man’s love was only for himself.
He thought that art should fill the eyes with awe.
So on he walked and muttered to himself.
Until he saw a painting of a girl.
She sat in rags covered with filth and mud.
Her hand stretched out beginning to uncurl.
A smile on her face began to bud.
Another man stood by and gave a gift.
He gave the little girl a little doll.
The critic’s prior thoughts began to shift.
His soul was not dejected after all.
He saw joy and love in many different forms.
But the last painting of the girl and toy.
Was a reflection of a truer form.
For all carry in their hearts love and joy.
So he took both and shared them all around.
But knew to question each of them in turn.
For it is our maker both be bound.
So ask if God is whom our hearts all yearn.