1979 School Magazine

WHY Why do they treat me so? I am human too and they know

tON ELY An old grey man sitting on a park bench Old as the hills, grey as the night There he sits day in day out Through summer and spring he sits and waits. What does he wait for? Death or doom Which will come first The End of Eternity or the end of ihe World. He sits there abandoned by all who surround him His family uncaring His world that once was ls no more now Lonely and ragged He stares with blank eyes At the lives around him Not feeling the loneliness that burdened his shoulders. He slumps as he sits Neither noticed or seen Forgotten already The old grey man sitting on a park bench. Rosemary Tyson, 8C. RED I'YTNGS The thundrous skles emit an echoing threat As a lone dove cries out for forgiveness, A cockroach stlrs, but retreats and hides, And their thoughts of freedom have soon all died. Now in the penetrating silence, Not a single sound may be heard, But the agony of death and surrender, And the last few words, of a once happy bird. A thousand lives, all paralysed with fear, Plead to the world for support, To their brothers and sislers - a plea for life, A plea that's completely ignored. Comfitetety alone, and fighting for freedom, Unarmeci, and seeking revenge, They fought in a frenzy of pitch forks and knives, And they'd fight, and they'd fight till the end. Tracey Beikoff , 12. BRICKLAYING PARENTS Babies minds broadened by birth. 360 degrees of potential. A cramped channel behind, Ahead a plain of power. Epch thing you absorb becomes a brick - Many bricks in your enclosing walls. Retreat ls imposslble, to veniure forward harder still. E.a.ch thought has a different size and shape, What pearls of wisdom we let escape/ Kathie Jeays, 9A.

It. And yet I am not allowed to have fun And laugh and play around in the sun Why do they treat me so? Why can't I be free? And gallop away, just my pony and me Over the hills and over the plains And nobody there who will always complain Why can't I be free? Why must I always be good? Nobody always is - nobody could They tell me I am naughty, wicked and bad They make me miserable, dejected and sad Why must I always be good? Why can't they listen, why can't they see? Why can't they listen, why can't they see?

I'm not just anyone - I am me I can't be perfect - nobody can But I wish they'd help sometimes and lend me a hand And let me be me. S.K. "As man is, so he sees." (Blake) Each of us, during our lifetime, develops a personality that is, to a certain extent, completely unique. lncoi- porated in this personality are our beliefs, ideals, hopes and dreams, along with a multitude of other things. it is this personality that makes us the person we b6come; we are as our personality is. And it is this personality, this person that we are, which colours our impressions of life. The way in which we look at things is influenced by our beliefs and our ideals; we can interpret the world arbund us in many different ways, and the way in which we inter- pret it all, depends on our total ouflook on life. Our minds have the potential to see only that in which we want to see; we turn a "blind-eye" to things or events that don't please us, and so we get a rather lopsided view of life. It is all very well for us to pretend to be broadminded and unbiased in opinion. I say "pretend" because. when you think about it, are any of us broadminded or unbiased in the true sonse of the words? Are any of us capable of seeing all sides of the story, and can we truly look upon life and not allow the person whom we are, to shape our interpretation of life? I feel we can not truly do this, and I feel we are being unfair if we ask this of anyone, for it is most difficult to divorce ourselves as persons, totally from what goes on around us. As humans, sometimes we let our feelings influence our opinions too much. This needs to be minimised if we hope to get a balanced outlook on life. But somtimes it is nice to look at a scene and to be able to see in it things which no-one else can, to think of things no-one elde does This is part of the joy to be foundln being an in- dividual, and we should not judge ourselves harshly all the time for our inability to act independenily of whom we are; for this is not always a vice but it can be the greatest virtue of all. Wendy Luck.

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