Some of the girls have been feverishly imagineering behind the scenes, leading to four Aberdonians (Anna Elwin, Kate Hughes, Kukka Ilmanen and Jenya Morrice) being highly commended in this season's Summer Writing Competetiton, the theme of which was 'Alive'. Here is a taste of their creativity below.
The Symphony
By Anna Elwin
On a cold and starry night,
On a cold and starry night,
He sits and waves his tail.
He gazes up to stare at stars
Then lets out a piercing wail.
No sooner does he start to sing,
(A loud and painful yell),
He hears the sound of dogs and cats,
They’ve all joined in as well.
And then as one, heads raised in song,
They screech with all their might.
The voice resounds and fills the streets
Awash with pale moonlight.
But then the mournful chorus
Is broken by a shout.
And from the door a large brown boot
Is lobbed directly out.
The feline conductor turns around,
Aloof, with eyes of hate.
It appears this song is not one that
All species appreciate.
Alive, thanks to you
By Katharine Hughes
Under cold cover of night
And haze of the street light
And haze of the street light
She crouches and watches
Daily life snatches
Of loving looks
As her mother cooks
With her new children
In the designer kitchen
There have been no calls
Or shopping trip to malls
No home baked pies
Just a bunch of lies
‘You were special, a gift’
Meant to give her a lift
But failed all her life
Though she liked him and his wife.
She walks to the stairs
And hope her mother still cares
Is blood thicker than water?
‘I am your daughter...
Do your remember
The day in November
When you signed on the line
And said you weren't mine?'
'Remember? Of course you are mine
But not now dear this isn't the time.
The boys have no idea.
My husband is clear
We mustn't upset them;
Tell them at half term.
This isn't the right way
I'll call you on Friday
We just have to wait
He'll be home at eight.
You must go for now
Please dont cause a row.'
'Oh I think you remember
That day in November
When you signed me away
For your designer today.
Whats Thicker than water?
You prefer bricks and mortar'
There will be no call
I don't believe you at all
I am alive thanks to you
That is all that is true.
Today, on a wet day in November
I give you up. Remember.
The Sense of Being Alive
by Kukka Ilmanen
A little boy once asked: What is the sense of being alive?
His father didn’t know, so he asked his mother.
She answered: “To be a good mother and a good wife.”
“But I’m not a mother so why should I bother?”
Was the clever little boy’s response.
“So go to the one who knows it all,
I don’t have time so go at once”,
Was the mother’s last call.
The teacher was small and bald,
He had inherited his profession
And all he knew, was in the school books told,
So as the little boy came with his question,
He stood there and started talking about cells
And how animals and plants are feeding.
So although the boy liked the talk about organelles
He was sure that wasn’t his life’s meaning.
The next idea that popped into the boy’s mind
Was the almighty, all-knowing God,
And his substitute was the priest, wise and kind
He didn’t think the question was odd!
He explained in a tone, which showed he took it serious,
That he himself definitely wasn’t all-knowing
And God and the sense of life was also for him mysterious
But his sense in life was praying and love showing.
The boy who wasn’t really satisfied
Started walking slowly on the sea side
Where just this morning it had been tide
And left a poor fish lying dried,
Who pleaded to go back to his life in the wide sea,
The boy was kind, but also had his question said
And the grateful fish triumphantly answered to the boy’s plea:
Alive; that means not to be dead!
The next responding one was an oak tree:
I feel alive when my branches are growing
Or when I feel the sun stroking me. You see,
To be alive allows me to feel joy while showing
My siblings in my shadow how to lengthen
Or while feeding my numerous guests as bird and lice.
Alive makes me protect and so to strengthen
Against the great winds, the rain and the ice
The boy repeated now the whole inquiry in a desperate tone
Tired as he hadn’t found his answer he didn’t notice
A single, grey, inconspicuous but listening stone,
Which suddenly slowly but firmly spoke this:
I am not loving, not knowing, not wise nor alive,
But it seems as if they all found in themselves a worth
Such as mothering or teaching to fulfill their life
And so everybody sees this as their sense in the world
So just go out and look for your use
by Jenya Morrice
Sun breaking through the glass,
trying to touch your skin,
trying to reach your soul.
Meanwhile,
ashes from cigar
-are,
burning your lips.
Lipstick and thousands of sweet smiles:
(bittersweet)
But for no one to see.
No laughter
-real life vanished-
Shame and guilt resting
deep below the core.
And there sits my girl –
-crying,
Shedding the tears,
Which run downstream.
Like a never ending rain of sorrows -
Blinding her path.
But maybe she won’t know.
A half-empty glass of wine,
And the ashtray blowing its smoke towards you-
Burning-
Warning-
Giving a sign.
You k You feel like being in prison-
chained...locked up.
What can you do,
What brings by tomorrow,
And why so then.
You question yourself:
How is it a life?
Being bred in the dark cage.
Never to see or experience
the warmth of sunshine.
I see your future is all planned out-
Won’t ask for words,
It’s crystal clear.
Your elbow supports
against
The DVD player scratching the shine of the Titanic disk,
Ripping it in pieces,
As if saying-‘No, I won’t play!’-
Those are not your stories.
Leave it alone;
Have courage,
Create your own,
Then tell the world,
Spread the word.
Take in a deep breath,
Open your eyes,
Get out there.
Live
like
never
before.
Summer is knocking on your door,
Screaming: ‘Is anyone there? Can you hear me?’
You are,
you can. So don’t pretend-
Don’t
Grab the beautiful life, the real life.
ITS searching for you,
Making you feel alive.
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