Pymble Ladies' College Student Poems (Year 9)

The Ruthless Dead
By Leian M. 
The men follow the chants in the foreign tongue.
In passing, I ponder the words.
They wear sheets of grey and black,
Suddenly they stop.
They remove circular objects
from their dark robes.
Moving in turn, they face due north.
The target’s heartbeat echoes
through the wide street.

And a dragon to my ears.

The heartbeat stops pulsing.
A sea of red hugs the pavement.
I tuck my sword into my armour.
I run.
I don’t need this.
Ruthless death.
The ruthless dead.  
Drawn and … Dusk?
By Dhruvin L.

The waves came surging,
inking across the grains of gold.
Far from dunes of desolation,
away from rising ruins.
Near the rocks of sweet venom,
There beckons the siren,
the beauty of the seas
the true angelic savage,
she calls and she calls
over the waves of salty foam
far from the reaches of home.
Called to a place shrouded in darkness,
through the layers of masked treachery,
tentative flutters brought the shore closer.
Land lay with a heartbeat
speeding, whizzing
already forsaken…
The Last Dance
By Eve M.

I lurk in darkness; a non-entity.

I am the demon that haunts your being,
clinging to the frayed corners of conscience.
Know me.
Fear me.
Draw near. Closer.
You enter the stone palace,
the grave of countless others.
Moonlight guides your passage,
silver ribbons of light
that wrap around your ankles.
A ditch attempt by Celestia’s hand
to dissuade your reckless whims.

You press against me.
Your warmth, your desperate
For a fleeting moment my humanity
painful life; cold warmth, exhilarated
sorrow and hateful love.
Then she is limp in my arms.
Icy, pale.
Goodnight, my maiden.
Your last dance has ended.
Once Almost Seen
By Catherine C.
He lingers
there, a silent waffle
tattered across a once blinking face
without a trace of…

Oh, he saw me.

Lusted, or the likes of it
a molten fever, staggering heat
slew him with the holy song
of a pained dragon crying for an
unjust release
For me
A siren, or the likes of it
who once ravaged the skies
and danced with the birds.
A bitter sparrow, unfortunate
pudding, dismantled like
a baby’s bones.
Casper, my love, ghost
shrinks from a compressed body
stone, still
mustn’t have been a mirror he
But me, for my body that
a celestial hand once plucked
from the feathers and dropped
on cursed concrete
His lips together
almost an “m”

I forget to wonder what he intended
to say.