Junior Highly Commended – Marcus Yang Juan Hun, age 13, Singapore
Topic: 1. The advantages and disadvantages of being youth
Little Jack
Roses are red, Violets are blue.
Jack was a boy who had nothing to do.
Like all other children, he ran and he sprung.
He had small nimble legs and a sweet silver tongue.
And oh, how he hated being so young.
He was taught that the elders will always be right
To not fear the dark, yet obey the light
To listen, not say, or question its means
Just follow the rules and eat all his greens.
He used to believe he was just a machine.
Jack was so playful, but he could not play.
He was trapped between four walls every single day.
He wished he could run, to fly like a bird,
To go to the stars that he so fondly heard.
But the grownups just told him his vision was blurred.
They gave him big books. They gave him a pen.
He found his own heart. He made his own friend.
He thought he was young, so he was alone.
You could stand atop hills only once you have grown.
But he was still stuck in a well made of stone.
He always had to listen, but no one listened back.
What he called “exploring”, they called “off-track”.
All he ever wanted was to be at the front,
To make his own choices, and do what he’d want.
Sooner or later, he’ll know he just can’t.
Life just went on, and Jack had enough.
He began yelling back, he thought he was tough.
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The tables had turned, he wanted control
To steer his own sailboat where he’d want to go.
Oh, but poor Jack still did not know.
Time went on, and the light finally shone.
His wish had come true, he’s finally grown.
And all the time he feared the dark and the dusk,
When he’s only been living in its comforting husk.
Now he can smell reality’s harsh musk.
All work and no play made Jack oh, so dull.
He finally understood that age is null.
And as he grew up, his eyes saw the black.
No matter how old, he’ll always be at the back.
‘Twas the turning point of poor, little Jack.
He never got to make it to the stars of his dreams.
When young he couldn’t whisper, now he can’t even scream.
He thought he’d have more freedom, all he got was more stress,
He used to want more choices, now he wants even less.
He’s now an adult. And he’s grown into a mess.
He found someone else, he thinks she is it,
But he doesn’t have time, just barely a bit
He yearns for his Jill, but he’s not sure to start
To preserve his sane mind, or follow his heart?
The stress was tearing poor Jack apart.
He’s made the wrong choice, he wants her again
He thought he couldn’t cope, so he turned and ran
He’s got his life settled, but still lonely as before
Now all he wants is her, to see her by the door.
But now it’s too late.
He can’t find her anymore.
He’s forty years old. He’s tired and weak.
He lost his job now, his future too bleak.
He just wants some comfort, but nobody’s home
He’s still all alone in his well made of stone.
He checks the newspaper for a possible loan.
There’s been a car accident. A woman was involved.
The driver’s at fault, but the case isn’t solved.
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He stared at the picture, then off to deep space
He remembered exactly where he saw that face.
He looked upon his own hands with disgrace.
Life was much harder than he ever thought
But surviving so far, and all was for naught?
He’d never find someone like her. Never will.
His world stopped spinning. Everything was still.
He never went up the hill with his Jill.
He stared at the rope. He’s had it restrung.
It was almost taunting him. It dauntingly hung.
Oh, how he wish he was still free.
And young.
He could now fly to the stars.
He kicked the stool from his feet.
Hoping his dear Jill is still waiting to meet.
All colours will fade, and all things will soon age.
The young has its cons, but it’s still just a stage.
Enjoy life, young or old, it’s better than none.
The roses have wilted.
This poem is done.
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