Publications

Work done by KVA students

New Words Poem

In the peculiar world of Flutopia
There is a bounty cornucopia.
Full of coil rods and food, and everything they would need,
Where no one is mean, or rude, or full of greed.
The Flutopians love their thrilling lives,
(Though the ones who have all the fun are the wives).
The guardians of this mystical Terra Firma
Are three lovely women called the Flutalicalirmas.
And these special women are powerful and strong,
They are the ones who make sure nothing goes wrong.
These women are the Flutopian gods
Who protect their land from danger and fraud. 
The Flutopians must go to these women when they do something wrong
And implore their forgiveness through dance and through song.
Now the Flutalicalirmas have a pet fairy named Larbled
Who is wonderful and powerful but whose speech is garbled.
All the Flutopians are joyous and fun,
Whose days and nights are led by the sun.
Now you know all you can regarding these people’s utopia,
Now you know the story of the people of Flutopia

Emma Devereaux, 2013 

Ten Things Poem

A lone crow rests atop an empty tree
With its colourful leaves in a pile beneath.
All around it lay bare bushes and dead flowers,
brown patches of grass and a for sale sign.
Everything darkens, everything changes.
But wait- we see from the glow of a porch light 
A single red flower, change isn't so bad.

Emma Devereaux, 2013

 

Le Pacillon de Soleil

       I wake up, everything is blurry and I am extremely dizzy. Where am I? Who am I? I feel a fresh dewy softness under me. I find my sight and look down to see that I am on a tall beautiful hill covered in green bright grass, each blade possessing a tiny diamond of dew. I look ahead of me and see a bay, leading to the ocean, with a long marshy isle in the middle. The sun is beginning to set and the clouds which resembled stairs were swirling in colours of coral, marigold, magenta, lilac and daffodil. I want to go to the island. 

 So I get up very slowly from my grassy bed and peer over the cliff on my hands and knees. It is a bit of a way down, but there is something about this isle in the center of this lone, extraordinary bay. So I slowly edge down the muddy cliff. After three edges down, my hands begin to smell sweet, like oranges and ginger and chocolate. So I take some of the mud off of the cliff and taste it. A tangy, sweet sensation tingles my taste buds.  It is amazing! Mud that tastes like my favourite flavour! It also causes me to plummet to the rocky beach, but the ground is comfortingly soft, like a never ending array of pillows and lamb’s wool. The fall causes me to remember my name, Lecia. 

        I look around the beach for a boat or a raft, but there is none to be seen. I wait for a while, but there is no sign of anything that can float. I guess I will have to swim. I creep towards the gently lapping waves and slide my hand into the shallow depths. I withdraw my hand, my fingertips catching the last feel of the mystical water.

      As I stand up, a violet wooden boat arises from beneath of the bay a few meters away from me. It glimmers in the last rays of sunshine. In awe, I run into the water, the tips of my toes grazing the soft sandy bottom. I swim over to the purple boat, and pull myself in. The boat tilts slightly. The boat has a silvery sheen and the paddles were composed of the same materials and colours. 

       I take a paddle and started rowing. I begin my journey to the long marshy island with the sunset right above it. Halfway to the island, I grow thirsty. I stop paddling and cupped my hands. I dipped them into the bay. The water was a deep marvelous blue. I take a sip. The water is sweet and refreshing. I still wonder what is this place?

       I continued to row until I reach the magnificent isle. I get out of the boat and it vanishes. I think, well, I probably won’t be going back! Then I notice the hill I awoke on has disappeared!! I run up to the island, to the very top. There are animals, like antelope, lambs, and snow leopards, with a few lions and cats and dogs, making the isle their homes. The majestic sun is just ahead of me. I reach out to touch it and its golden heat melts onto my fingers, like honey, which feel warm and make me happier than I have ever felt before!

      Then I hear a voice. “Lecia, my name is Jean. You have come to the entrance of Le Pavillion de Soleil. I am here to escort you.” A tall man with a friendly voice appears. He is kind yet solemn.
“Hello! The Pavillion sounds lovely, but will I ever be back here?” I ask.
“Don’t worry, my child! You will be back here in your dreams!” He replies.
“What?”
“Just come with me,” and together they enter a door that has appeared in the air.

      Inside the door is a large balcony with lots of people, cloaked in white, laughing and playing games. I gasped. I run over to the railing of the balcony and gaze out over the other side of the bay, to the gateway to the ocean.
“It’s so beautiful,” I sigh.
“That it is,” said Jean.

I stay there, amazed for a good five minutes. The clouds are whirling around beautifully! “Oh Jean, those clouds are fantastic!”
 “Yes, they are actually used as stairs for the Pavillion.”
 “Really? Stairs to where?”
“The home of the visitor.”
“Like me? Will those stairs lead me home?”
“Yes.”
“Why is everyone else staying? Why are they in white?”
       “Because they have been mislead by other escorts. These other escorts tell them to stay as long as they like, but they have stayed too long. After one hour you are here, you become locked here forever, thinking you are here temporarily.”

 I stand there shocked that such a beautiful place contains such cruelty.
“I should go then.”
“Yes, you should. Just climb the stairs until you reach the fifth door, on the right,” Jean says to me.
“Okay, thank you so much Jean!” Jean walks away and I run up the stairs very fast. I see doves flying fast around me. When I reach the fifth door I open it and spring into the room.

                                                              **

       I wake up. Everything is blurry and I am extremely dizzy. Where am I? Who am I? I feel cushy warm fuzz underneath and over me. I find my sight. I’m in my room, in my bed. My Mother comes in. 

              “Sweetheart, you’re awake!”
“Mama? I was just at Le Pavillion de Soleil!”
“Interesting, I went there once, but I thought it was a dream, but it couldn’t be if you went there too!”
“I wonder what this means?”
“It means that you need to rest. Go to sleep my darling.”
“Goodnight Mama,” I whisper as I drift off to sleep.



                                                       The End.

By C. Faye Hiscock