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Goldsmiths' Official Student Magazine

A selection of B&W Poems

January 14, 2013
Illustrator __ Tian Luan   unlucky writer__Eloise Best   a black cat ___tiptoed across piano keys _____________________leaped ____________________________________onto the chess board knocking over a pawn     seeing grey writer__Eloise Best   cautiously colour blind she stopped at every traffic light     tightrope writer__Eloise Best   last night after midnight walking the line down…

Illustrator __ Tian Luan

 

unlucky

writer__Eloise Best

 

a black cat
___tiptoed across piano keys
_____________________leaped
____________________________________onto the chess board

knocking over a pawn

 

 

seeing grey

writer__Eloise Best

 

cautiously colour blind

she stopped

at every traffic light

 

 

tightrope

writer__Eloise Best

 

last night
after midnight
walking the line down the middle of the road
arms outstretched
feeling daring
_________________________________silhouetted against a full moon

 

 

left in a hurry

writer__Eloise Best

 

the milk carton lies on its side
bleeding
white
onto
pristine black tiles

 

 

Liquid Air

Writer_Mara Mainka

I sit

and drown

and feel

 

it sits on me

as coal

on feathers

 

as black on white

no sin ?

the question respires

no win.

while I slowly expire.

 

my feet hang in the air

and finally

will meet

your hair.

 

in other time

another mime

looses my thoughts!

and eats them.

 

as drought

the country.

fear

my thoughts are endless fear

and finally

the white cries on the black

 

I might find you never, my mere self

but my thoughts fear

the subjunctive as flesh fire

and while I respire

my thoughts flee

 

in a stranger’s heart

as does dark flee from light.

 

I think my thought

in darkness

and they all sink

to never seen grounds of hearing

the right

or wrong

 

the sight fearing still myself.

 

and in the mean time

I put bookshelf

upon bookshelf

drown my immersed self

in liquid air

until I forget your hair on my shoulders.

 

in bitterness of you

no idea

nor clue

what is wrong or right

what might have been my side

of black on white

 

the idea might be without ending

my thought

that I’ve been spending

will bend

although

time will help with this

although

there is an end

to this unseen cleft

of flesh on wound

 

I moan

and no unforeseen possibility of them

will minimise your black on white being

my unforeseen seeing

of wrong on white?

of right on might have been possibilities

is drowned in grey.

and finally myself was found

in nothing

but in liquid air.

 

Black White Hot Salty 

Writer_Tasneem Sharrem

 

Culinary base notes – the black and white of taste,

Underpinning flavours resonating, humming in the background

A generous chef’s pinch sprinkled while cooking;

The flourish of the waiter as he grinds the dark spheres in to dots on your plate

The contrast between saline and heat and the simultaneous harmony like piano keys

Salarium to salary; ponder the white grains as a valuable commodity

Pepe, peper, pfeffer, a black gold traded across the sea

These seasonings are now commonplace

In every kitchen, every supermarket, every corner shop

Yet they remain treasures in what they lend to the food we consume

Black heat, salty white, the essential yin and yang of cuisine.

 

 Midnight Frost 

Writer_Jade Jupp

 

Midnight breaths his frosty breath

As he leans close to the glass,

Long fingers crackling over the pane,

Black eyes seeking out the warmth

Offered to us by the white hot fire

We’re huddled round.

All night we have listened to the deep crunch of snow

As he edged nearer and nearer.

We felt his ice cold hands reach towards us,

Brushing past twisted branches of the tallest trees

Leaving icicles and curled leaves,

And now he drapes his cloak around our chimneys

Shrouding them from sight.

He stays at our windows ‘til Dawn arrives,

Blinding him with her rosy smile.

Slowly she works at melting the frost sheen he has left behind –

The only sign that Midnight was here at all.

 

 

Sunday 7th October 2012

Writer_Nicole Walsh

 

An entity in itself; the race

A finishing line of pure innocence

A melody that fights through space

Challenging the music, pure brilliance

 

Born today they say those girls

Have a world of patterns weaved in

They’ll grow thick, black crazy curls

On their delicate, intricate skin

 

From black to white their plight

Starts and finishes with two mixes pieces

The history and tradition of two in sight

A collaboration of colour, my nieces,

 

A world of negative images may be set before you

But bring colour stand for any word that is true, to you, two.