Our Jade Lights

After lending to the North Pole my jade lights,

I offer my mint tones to compose an etheral sight,

In sequoia forests whence arises a petrichor scent at night.

But there she is, in her scarlet petal dress,

Standing, alone, in MY garden cress,

And all you can notice is her brightness.

She always attracts your attention,

When she projects her fire with pretention

On my irridiant forests which are now vermilion.

Why do you, Humans, prefer her, Red ;

Despite my resplendent lime and olive shades

Coloring the grass around watersheds?

I’m leaving, hearing the mellifluous sound 

Of mambas, boomerangs slithering to the ground,

Closing my emerald eyes, to reach the eternal bound.

Eva Rivière 1OIB1 (finalist in the ASIBA poetry competition senior category)

Our Green Dream

The tinkling of a cow,

The sizzling of a hummingbird,

The mouthwatering smell of your grandma’s pie on the window

The perfect blue sky clean of carbon dioxide

The vast garden smelling of flowers and vegetables,

The rooster singing in the distance ready to start the day

Until the sun rising

When the tinkling turns into car horns

Where sizzling comes from the air conditioning trying to cool the sweat

Bathed in the smell of the homeless man’s far too many beers on the sidewalk

Looking up to a the sea of billboards and bricks

Opening the shutters to a maze of concrete

Hearing in the distance the voice

Of what could have been our green dream walking away from us.

Yona Benyamin, 1OIB1 (Third prize in the ASIBA poetry competition, senior category)

Far Away

Far away from the busy cities and the darkened skies,

Out of reach of the oppressive society and a certain demise,

Lies a promising land of natural splendours,

Separated and secluded from restless endeavours.

Through a complex web of highways

That unwinds to a toll free of charge on Sundays,

And opens up on a one-way rural road,

Unveiling a tranquil path seldom followed.

Down the green valleys, across the green lake,

You’ll see the Green village in its traditional state,

Across the green chapel with its moss-covered steeple,

Stands the village square and all of its people.

There is a special place, where kisses can last,

A green-eyed couple lie on a carpet of grass,

Swapping saliver and kisses by the green oak tree,

A sad teen, watches with green eyes, enviously.

On the cliff tops overlooking the green sea,

Sits the ivy green tombstome of Old Mary,

Beautiful and wise she was, held in high esteem,

I believe she herself was fond of the colour green.

Pierre Gaudy, 2OIB1 (First Prize ASIBA Poetry competition junior category)