students on a creative writing assignment
In a place like Kaikoura, it is difficult not to be inspired. This week,
in Environmental Literature, Professor Ed Higgins (George Fox) led the
student body on a journey in creative writing which culminated in a night
of slamming our poetry and short-stories together. Along with laughs and
snaps, we were all encouraged and sometimes speechless with the amount of
creativity and talent that the whanau demonstrated... even (and sometimes
especially) those of us who are science majors. Here is a sampling—
in Environmental Literature, Professor Ed Higgins (George Fox) led the
student body on a journey in creative writing which culminated in a night
of slamming our poetry and short-stories together. Along with laughs and
snaps, we were all encouraged and sometimes speechless with the amount of
creativity and talent that the whanau demonstrated... even (and sometimes
especially) those of us who are science majors. Here is a sampling—
The Dance (Kristen, Wheaton 2012)
I sat on the misplaced log
uprooted, bleached and weathered.
Where had it come from?
The ocean must have thought the trunk was a delectable piece of Turkish Delight
then spit it out in deceived disgust.
The ocean’s unwanted candy became my gnarled throne—
I watched from my sturdy seat as nature performed before me.
The domineering waves shoved the black stones about—
a thunderous rumble rising from the rocky combat.
Waves I have seen before—their blue is nothing new.
But when this emerald Ocean asks the diamond-studded Mountain to dance,
their partnership transcends all that I knew of the elements while apart,
sending sparks into my spectating eyes.
A man wearing a black fitted suit rides the ocean’s swirling flirtations
as if trying to cut in on the dance.
Sometimes the waves give in,
granting the love-struck man the exhilaration he seeks.
But the Mountain’s beauty can easily reclaim the Ocean’s eyes,
letting the suitor fall.
I watch the three from my Turkish trunk,
never wanting the dance to end.
uprooted, bleached and weathered.
Where had it come from?
The ocean must have thought the trunk was a delectable piece of Turkish Delight
then spit it out in deceived disgust.
The ocean’s unwanted candy became my gnarled throne—
I watched from my sturdy seat as nature performed before me.
The domineering waves shoved the black stones about—
a thunderous rumble rising from the rocky combat.
Waves I have seen before—their blue is nothing new.
But when this emerald Ocean asks the diamond-studded Mountain to dance,
their partnership transcends all that I knew of the elements while apart,
sending sparks into my spectating eyes.
A man wearing a black fitted suit rides the ocean’s swirling flirtations
as if trying to cut in on the dance.
Sometimes the waves give in,
granting the love-struck man the exhilaration he seeks.
But the Mountain’s beauty can easily reclaim the Ocean’s eyes,
letting the suitor fall.
I watch the three from my Turkish trunk,
never wanting the dance to end.
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