La Rochelle 2021

B U D D I N G A U T H O R S

I n f i n i t e l y F i n i t e

F e r v e n t P o n d e r i n g

L o v e a b l e

Far too sad for dear goodbyes Glistening in the moon’s pale eyes Bewitching in the twilight Infinitely finite Lying by a willow tree For lucky eyes to fully see Yet in the tree, far up above A weeping face, a syrup glove Running down its prickly back Every thought we wish to lack Streaming all across her face Her river hair, her eyes of lace Spluttering in hopes of air Spread across her skin, so fair Vision blurred, thoughts in dense fog Heart a knife, world draped with smog Nostalgia cloaked in summer’s thrill Blinding her for what comes still Draped in coat of endless moonlight O, so infinitely finite Stuck in tar as stars still shone Dream of times that are far gone When lips did drip with words of honey And endless days did turn up sunny More shine for sure will blow her way Soaked in sweetest type of gay Yet filled with past her eyes do seem Blind to all life’s happy gleam Try she must to see the light And break away from the finite Inge van der Westhuizen

I sit here With these blank pages, crying.

Who are you? I hear you, yet you never speak. You come creeping as the shadow prowls over the mountain’s peak. Slithering, causing my soul to twitch. Never satisfied with what I display as you hiss in self-deprecation. We fight relentlessly, Water As the tears fill my eyes. Wind As you blow into my mind. Only later realising that we caused a hurricane blackening the skies. I drench you with my pain while you sinuously squirm in the sorrow that you set aflame. You know all my secrets, my one true companion. I realise that you love me so much that you’ll never be able to leave. But it is also you who remind me that I’m not worthy of other people’s appeasement. You’re the one thing that’ll always be mine. I hope you decide to appreciate me sometime. For I love you, my dear thoughts. Zeta Nardus

I cry because no-one Looks at me with love. How it is all false.

No-one thinks of me. No-one writes movies, Songs or love letters about me. I cry because no-one Writes poetry about me. I know it’s selfish But is it too much to ask? For someone to look at me And smile. Whilst writing this poem I realise that there is someone. There is someone who will Write movies, songs and love letters. There is someone writing poetry for me. I write poetry for me. I write poetry for the girl in the mirror. I write poetry for the girl who gets me through the day. And I thank her. She is a mess, a work-in-progress, Beauty and chaos. She is me And I’m finally seeing the beauty in that. Klara Durr-Behrens

C o l d l a k e s , q u i e t d r e a m s

A lone woman, sitting on the edge of a lake. Two voices in her head, arguing, always at each other’s throats. The worst part is, neither of them knows which one of them belongs in the girl’s body, and which one is just a cloud in the mind. They each think the other has it better. Not that they would ever admit it, but even Girl One had some darkness inside her, and sometimes, Girl Two shone brightly. Girl One’s pursuit of her goals was an important milestone to reach, but was burying her in stress. The other part of her was dangerous and impulsive, but it was one of the only times she ever felt free. There was a constant battle going on in her mind, trying to find compromise and balance. She watches as her dreams drown in the lake. She needs to find a way to rescue them. But time waits for no-one and she refuses to wait for time, because until she can find her deus ex machina, all she can do is sit, in the dark, at the edge of her lake. Chloe Krombeen

It is something we’re only allowed to discuss in hushed whispers. Two girls, sit at the edge of a lake. The cold water grounds them from the harsh reality of not knowing where to go from here. Girl One is trying her best to find a safe space to exist, a standard 9 - 5, a regular suburban life and a shield to protect her from whatever lies ahead. Girl Two had always been different. Rash, self- destructive and reckless. She didn’t bother picturing a future for herself. She had always been ready for the end, not knowing what came after it and not caring either. She used to compare herself to the antagonist in some movie the girls had watched together. Because why wouldn’t they? They did everything together, despite being each other’s worst enemy. One can’t exist without the other. They wonder which one of them is real.

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