Writing Competition
ST ANDREWS WRITING COMPETITION FOR THE MONTHS OF JULY AND AUGUST 2021.
The July competition was quiet thanks to the pressures of the moment, but once everyone settled down to their routines August became a busier month and we received many entries from all the grades. The quality was high and I was especially impressed with the number of first-time entrants and the volume of classwork that was submitted to the competition. The winners and runners-up from July and August are below:
In July we had two winners:
Sakina Ganiwalla – Year 8.
Mackenzie Jones – Year 8.
In August:
Our Year 7 winner is – Nicole Gasendo.
Our Year 8 winner is – Irish Raymundo.
Our Year 9 winner is – Nicole Cabale.
Our Year 10 winner is – Shaniya Lal.
Our Year 12 winner is – Khushi Gupta.
Congratulations to all of the winners who each receive a $30 gift voucher.
Other writers deserve an honourable mention for their quality and efforts in July and August. Please congratulate:
Kathryn Baginski (7), Tristan Fegradoe (7), Monica Luong (7), Alessandra Bova (10), Priyansha Krishna (10).
Thank you to all of those students who entered. I look forward to the September entries. Some samples of our students’ talents are below:
The Potter and the Clay, Kathryn Baginski, Year 7.
God as a potter is an extremely valuable section of the bible for the people in our world today. We are all made of clay that God has sculpted to be what we are. For example, this metaphor can be a guiding light for us and we can be sure that we are in the safe hands of God. As we influence our path, God is right there beside us to help guide which way we go. If we follow the right path, then our future is bright. If we all keep this in mind when we make even the most simple decisions, such as whether to help do the dishes, then it will not only have a positive impact on our lives, but also on the lives of others. Therefore, God as a potter is a very valuable message that should be applied to everything we do in the present and future.
Extract from ‘Yusra Mardini - A hero, an Inspiration’, by Alysse Yates, Year 7.
Many people look up to Yusra as an inspiring refugee role model and a hero. When she is not training in the pool, she works as an inspirational ambassador for refugees who have had to go through a similar, life risking experience. She is a great swimmer and raced in both Rio and Tokyo olympics and all of her efforts are highly commended. She states that sports had saved her life, especially swimming, from drowning in the Aegean sea, along with many others. Yusra Mardini is a well honoured and brave Olympian who inspires many around the world.
Her inspirational words state; ‘The Idea of the Olympics is to bring us all together. For example, I am from Syria, I live in Germany and I represent The refugee Olympic team.’ Shows that it doesn't matter where we are from, we all are united as one and nothing should separate us. Nor background, religion, opinions or thoughts should come together as one and celebrate who we are and where we are from.
Extract from ‘Imagine a Time’, Nikki Gasendo, Year 7.
Imagine a time when you’re all alone, your heart is scattered and shadows of your soul are haunting every move you make... no escape.
Imagine a time where you’re allowed every equal right the person next to you has, no misjudgements and no misunderstandings— everyone is treated the same.
Imagine a time where all you can hear are the lost whispers of your sanity and the feeling of rage and indignation rising from the depths of your stomach.
Imagine a time where Mother Earth is returned with the respect she has desired and longed for ever since.
Imagine a time where the sources of time we relied on all stopped ticking, everything…everyone was paused for eternity.
Imagine a time where every human understood the diversity of the world and acclaimed each other’s contrasting differences.
Imagine a time where you were invisible to all your loved ones, the person they knew was no longer you, but instead an echoing whisper in the dark.
Imagine a time where everyone rose together, just like the moon, the sun and the certainty of the ocean’s tides.
Imagine a time where you had to survive with just half a heart, half the amount of beats, half the amount of pumping blood and half the amount of love to give.
Imagine a time where we all planted the seeds to a happy life, one full of success, joy and laughter.
‘The Dreamers’, Nicole Cabale, Year 9.
A toast to the dreamers.
Those who wish to shift realities
To journey onto one far greater than their current.
Although their infatuation is bound to pages,
We should not disturb their dance alongside happiness
Or drain the pool of comfort that keeps them afloat.
Hear the ensemble of butterflies thumping in their chest,
And admire the light of their smile that casts out darkness
For that is the coexistence of reality and fiction,
A dreamer’s emotional attachment to an imaginary world.
One day when we see their nose buried deep in a book,
But notice the faint glint of hope in their eyes,
Will we finally understand why their candle of life continued to burn.
A toast to the dreamers.
For every story, you read,
May the words one day spell out why your own is not fiction.
‘Till Death Do Us Apart, Irish Raymundo, Year 8.
Their love was meant to be, just maybe not in this world.
Love was something everyone needed, yet why couldn’t they have experienced it? Their love was strong. Even in the coldest of times, the only thing they needed was each other’s warmth.
People knew them as the Angel and the Devil.
She told them that he was not like that, not at all. Yet people did not believe in such stories.
She was a blank canvas, and he painted her with bright colours.
In his rainy day was she the sun that took his problems away.
They worked so well together, like red and blue, but the world wasn’t ready to see purple yet.
They were perfect in each other's eyes.
But what did the others see? It was forbidden.
They held onto each other, as tight as possible. Trying to fly away from all the problems. Yet heavy chains were tied onto them, and they could not fly far.
Their love was true. They wanted to spend their entire lives with each other. Although it felt so right, their love was at the wrong place, at the wrong time.
They did not let go of each other, even in the nick of time.
“ ‘Till Death Do Us Apart. “
Extract from ‘The Solitary Red Rose’, Khushi Gupta, Year 12.
To me, the world seemed like a giant field of sweet-smelling lavenders, left alone to blossom all year round, swaying in unison with the mild current of the wind. Lavenders seemed to take my breath away, the way each one had their own unique stance and height, blooming with a pose of sophistication and self-worth, together radiating an earthy fragrance. Immediately, I took out my gardening tools and began digging the moist soil, creating rows of shallow holes for the lavender seeds. I planted the seeds and covered them with fresh soil, before watering them with fervent anticipation.
Days passed, and the lavender seeds grew from young sprouts to seedlings to plants with buds. Today, the first set of flowers had grown, blanketing the back garden in a rich, heavenly fragrance. The scent still lingered in my senses as I grabbed a quick breakfast, and rushed out the door to my job. In the distance, I noticed an odd silhouette of a young woman dressed in deep red, staring blankly into space. She didn’t look like the rest of us. Her deep blue eyes, full of longing and ambition, shone like newly-mined gemstones against the darkness of the night. Wavy, blonde hair fell flawlessly beyond her shoulders, complimenting her heart-shaped face to utmost perfection. Her foreign beauty left us all in awe, but an unfamiliar aura emanated from her wherever she went, pricking us all back to reality. As she flitted across the street, one could imagine her sailing across the cosmos, as indifferent as the stars. Such poise and self-assurance didn’t belong in a world like ours. A world with a history of passive-aggressive conflicts and disagreements; inconsequential battles for dominance and fragile egos. It would be disconcerting at the very least, if someone were to challenge this and push the boundaries. To simply be oblivious. But there she was, doing exactly that.
‘Pleasantly Surprised’, Shaniya Lal, Year 10.
Here we go again I thought. The older I get, the less sure I am about anything, but this surety I feel coursing through my veins right now, this will never change. I was bubbling with excitement like a can of shaken soft drink waiting to be opened. I almost couldn’t contain it as I stood on the balls of my feet, hands pressed against the glass shop window until they turned white, my eyes bulging out of their sockets. The shop owner inside chucked wryly as he saw me peer through, all too familiar with my eager behaviour. Today was the day I laid my hands on the new masterpiece that I had been waiting an eternity for, at least that’s what it seemed like, because it was only just yesterday that I had walked out of the shop empty handed much to my dismay; but with all that in the past, today was a new day. The door squeaked noisily on its hinges as it was pushed open, with the door sign flipped to ‘we are open’ and the blinds rolled up. I hesitantly stepped in, taking a deep breath and running forward, almost knocking over the book stand in front of me and earning a glare from the book keeper, though I could see the struggle he was putting up to suppress the winking grin from under his facade. Quickly locating the aisle, I scanned the rows upon rows of books, letting my fingers brush across each spine, savouring the feel of crisp paper and the smell of the lingering musky scent that wafted from the books. But it wasn’t soon after that my hand fell shortly by my side and my mouth opened to form an ‘o’ shape, releasing a gasp.