Year 9 writing competition winners

Congratulations to our Year 9 English Writing Competition winner Varen Wilson (9CHN) and runners-up Waihuia Thein (9GOS) and Gabby Pace (9JSN).

Judge Lauren Gibson (13BE) had high praise for Varen’s winning piece, saying:

“I thought how the author wrote the words they were describing in a different language first, before writing the meanings for them in English was beautiful and almost added more meaning to the descriptions. The imagery of this piece was absolutely gorgeous, and there was such a wide variety of words, it was as if each one was given a completely different story.”

Here’s the winning entry in full:

GLOSSARY POEM
Varen Wilson (9CHN)

Ástir, n. Love. A beautiful river of flowers and silk flows in the sky above the garden, wrapping around me and my mum in a burning blanket of ástir, fiery leaves circling our bodies like hungry vultures. Birds chirp an enthusiastic song and the sun peeks out from behind layered leaves, a lovely day.

Ógleði, n. Sadness. Rain descends upon my body while a cold blue light from beyond the clouds fills my spirit with ógleði, the calming, gentle rain thumping against my body fills my heart with silence and my eyes only see mist. Submerged in an ocean of still water, the bubbles float to the surface as the boats roll in.

Fjǫrlag, n. Death. An immeasurable void of nothingness, not black, not white, no light, no dark, no cold, no hot… No thought, just non-existence, the people around him sniffle and sob, but he hears none of it, Fjǫrlag.

Fjǫr, n. Life. A swirl of feelings and colours, pain stabs into their stomach, lust fills their heart, emotions overflowing with infinite opinions about a world, a distant dream, a splash of memory in a sea of absence, he couldn’t remember the Fjǫr he had last night.

Reiði, n. Anger. His lips curl with rage, and lava flows from his mouth, burning my skin and filling the room with smog. Boiling air falls upon me and the walls catch fire, I can hear the sound of an erupting volcano. Retreating from the heat, I look back, he pulls at his hair, silver strings of cotton, he wallows in his seat, smouldering with Reiði. The room itself bursts into flames and becomes uninhabitable.

Braka, v. Creak. The wooden frame sways in the wind like a dancing flame, floor boards and a door frames Braka shyly. Huge trees bend and swirl, the hedge is a protective barrier, a wall. The black sky is a whirlpool of thunderous light and enormous clouds, the moon wouldn't dare show itself. I lay in bed, hearing every little scrape of the wind against the house, the white silk curtains waving at me in a kind gentle way.

Ótti, n. Fear. The room is silent, a dark figure in the corner, a shadow, sounds echo out from the hallways. Ótti reverberates from within my nerves, the blinds bang against the window in a sudden burst of anger, sweat is evicted from my face as I swing my head to the left. Inhaling cold blades of trepidation, my body is now frozen. Did the shadow just smile?

Blása, v. Blow. The end of a night in a jungle of concrete. I look to the black sky but become dazed at the bright glows drifting through the streets like a colourful aroma. “I said, ooh, I'm blinded by the lights no, I can't sleep until I feel your tou-” songs play on the radio as we drive under a beguiling moon, I stick my arm out the window to feel a frigid Blása of wind ingulf my arm like cold water.

Angan, n. Joy. The cicadas chirp in a primal orchestra, the bees buzzing from daisy to daisy. A white will-o’-wisp flitters among the grass like a wingless butterfly, a ballerina. It prances around in total angan. It is blended into the environment as a water brush paints the day, despite being the colour of the bright snowy sun. A mischievous fire spreads wherever it jumps. The creature is a funny little thing, it doesn't stop for anything, not even sadness.

Sólar-setr, n. Sunset. A small speck of architecture in a sea of grass and fields. The horses bow their heads to graze, the dogs rest their heads on their arms tiredly. The grass ripples a wave in the slight breeze. The trees sway in the distance, a peaceful end to the day. In the distance, along a dark horizon a ball of hope shimmers against the glass clouds, fish scales under light. The background to this painting is blacker than night, but the sky is like coral, a beautiful Sólar-setr.