Sic Transit Gloria Mundi-
Free Verse by Janine Hawkins
Over Gibraltar and Addis, weak son,
who's spirit was meek, gentle, and so mild.
In a gray area of size, Simon,
in a failed evacuation, beguiled
by the deserted island of Eden.
Merridew and the choir, now Ralph and more.
Summoned by the conch to meet new brethren,
too weak, he fainted, Jack said as before.
A firm bond with nature and the other world.
Fragile seraphim, to the island hurled.
A screen of leaves and moonlight dreams.
So Simon sat, legs folded neatly,
amid the quiet haven, gleaming.
His gentle words calling, so sweetly,
to Ralph. Keep hope and keep faith, and fire.
We will be just fine. You'll see, Piggy.'
but bloodlust pulled them from his thin wire
of sanity. Divided, sadly.
The flies hypnotize, as black blood drips.
Dizzying colours, stumbling numb,
up beyond Castle Rock, corpse caught.
he sees the mistake made by some,
but of their chanting he knows not...
So he pulls free the dead man's chute,
and goes to find his friends, alas,
chaos poisoned minds start pursuit.
He accepts what may come to pass.
With hurried words, he explains...
or tries to, but they don't hear
his reason over his pain,
driven onwards by their fear.
Little lamb, answers he sought.
But, little lamb, hunted he got.
The lamb now with his shepherd.
To Piggy, Ralph laughed, bitter,
while Jack smirked with pride.
For his tribe came out fitter.
Piggy, murder denied.
They knew Simon was gone
and they knew what they'd done.
No voice of reason
to halt their decent
to a mad season
of kills most recent.
In his wake, madness.
The bleached skull idol,
lust for lost blood,
wave of deaths, tidal,
caught in the flood.
Sands stained red.
Torn flesh bled.
Clock turned back...
Bleeding.
Floating.
Gone.
Amid the Mists of Eden-
Quatrain by Janine Hawkins
Amid the mists of Eden
a pig's head stood, bleeding
and dripping fearful words
from it's tongue in herds.
Where I once sat to sing
amid the creepers my voice did ring.
Inside my head, my song persists
against the words the demon lord insists.
I can still hear the voice
excited by their own choices.
He says there will never be silence,
all there'll ever be is violence.
He toys with me, my mind, my thoughts.
He ties my fragile hope in knots,
and when he's through, he lets me flee,
they'll find me dead now, in the sea.
Amid the mists of Eden,
a tale of friendship and treason
unfolds before his empty eyes
as his tongue weaves untold lies.
I escaped, not with my life,
and I evaded Merridew's knife.
So at what price does civilization come,
if we don't know whence it's from?
Laughter is the Best Medecine-
Dialogue between Simon and Ralph by Janine Hawkins
Simon sat quietly, staring out over the water as if trying to make the midday mirages something more concrete than a play of light. Ralph watched him from one of the shelters, his brows furrowed thoughtfully.
Simon turned, looking at Ralph for a few moments before a faint smile formed on his lips.
Good afternoon, Ralph. Is something bothering you?
Ralph blinked sharply and looked away, his blonde lashes fluttering slightly as he stared towards the sun.
Nothing... No. Nothing's bothering me.
Are you su-...
Simon stopped speaking suddenly, causing Ralph to turn to see what the reason for the sudden seizing of the other boy's speech was.
Simon looked quite pale, and a small rivulet of blood was trickling out from his nose. Simon's hands were on his temples, and his eyes seemed dull and glassy.
Ralph stood, taking a few heavy steps forwards.
Simon? You alright?
Simon leaned forward, resting a hand on the sand for balance. His other hand found it's way to the blood snaling a trail over his lips from his nose.
What's the matter with you? You're always faining or going pale or just... thinking a lot. What's wrong with you?
Simon hesitated before speaking, The doctors said that there was something wrong with my head. My mother couldn't afford any medecine... because dad was away. Then there were more doctors before they evacuated us... You remember them, right?
Ralph nodded, yeah. They had cold hands.
Simon laughed softly, turning back out to face the sea.
They said that I have... Bipolar Disorder'. They said they'd have my foster family buy me the medecines I need but... I'll have to wait a little longer for that.
Ralph grimaced a little.
Between you and Piggy with his ass-mar-
Simon corrected.
Right, right... But have you always been so... Have you always been bleeding and fainting so much and all?
It's been getting worse, without medicine or the stable care I was getting before, but it's not that bad.
Simon offered Ralph a soft smile as the other boy stepped slowly closer, finally sitting down in the sand by the smaller boy's side.
You gonna die?
Simon shrugged slightly.
Que sera, sera... I don't know. That decision is left to fate, yet... I've thought about it.
Well, why not?
Isn't it scary, though?
At first, but I've had a lot of time to think about it, Ralph.
You think a lot.
Simon smiled, I suppose i do. I'm used to keeping to myself. They didn't talk to me that much. The choir, that is.
You seem different than them. Kind of like Piggy but... not.
The boys both looked at each other and started laughing, And Ralph could see much of the colour returning to Simon's face.
Undoing of the Demon
Found Poem for Chapter 12; page 205 by Janine Hawkins
The slanting sticks of sunlight were lost among the leaves,
and the rocks stole the earth from the plants like thieves.
A white face of bone grinned at him from a stick.
It gleamed as white as ever the conch has done,
but of life within, there was none...
Or was there?
Prickles of sensation, staring eye-to-eye.
Ralph locked with the face of death, which dared him to defy.
A sick fear and rage engulfed the boy.
It bobbed like a toy, returning from Ralph's lash.
The boy cried out in loathing as bruised knuckles dug for another bash.
He held now a spear and backed away.
Wretched bleached demon.
Idols of Eden
Cinquain by Janine Hawkins
We are the idols of the isle.
We see, we hear, we speak.
Why don't you rest and stay awhile?
Provided you aren't weak,
You'll survive if we beguile.
I am the fire, that enchants and seduces,
and I am the glasses from which fire is born.
I am the conch who's trumpet entices,
and I speak the truth, the Lord, forlorn.
Our existence is expensive but pain as payment suffices.
We are the idols to lead you down your path.
We are the idols to strike you down.
We are the idols to which you vent your wrath.
And we are the idols that drown.
We are the idols, all shattered in the aftermath.
Dear Piggy
Sonnet by Janine Hawkins
I spoke of dear Piggy, when I had grown.
The long story shared with the seed we had sown.
Perhaps it was my fault and perhaps it was not,
perhaps it was them, and how much they fought.
In any event, a dear friend I'd lost.
His death coated my heart in a veil, cold as frost.
It was not merely his death that disturbed me so,
but for the root of human nature, the nature I know.
I'm old now, and frail, but my memories last.
A tear falls down my cheek when I reflect on the past.
We all lost a great part of us in that place,
and we all stared fear and death straight in the face.
Now people ask to hear of my evacuation survival,
so I tell them I did not survive. I died with them but home brought my revival.