[Listening // keane - everybody's changing ]

My Box Gillian Clarke

My box is made of golden oak,
my lover’s gift to me.
He fitted hinges and a lock
of brass and a bright key.
He made it out of winter nights,
sanded and oiled and planed,
engraved inside the heavy lid
in brass, a golden tree.

In my box are twelve black books
where I have written down
how we have sanded, oiled and planed,
planted a garden, built a wall,
seen jays and goldcrests, rare red kites,
found the wild heartsease, drilled a well,
harvested apples and words and days
and planted a golden tree.

On an open shelf I keep my box.
Its key is in the lock.
I leave it there for you to read,
or them when we are dead,
how everything is slowly made,
how slowly things made me,
a tree, a lover, words, a box,
books and a golden tree.

♥♥♥

Such a pretty poem.:]
Oh, and for the uninformed, it was the unseen text of the GCE O-Levels Literature Paper 1.

how everything is slowly made,
how slowly things made me

I'm not sure how I did for Literature actually. I mean, it's up to the British markers in... Britain. (haha i'm stating the obvious. must be the exam stress.) You think you handed in a wonderful script but the markers might think it's only average. Or you hand up your script thinking you'll do so badly you'll fail but the markers might think it brilliant. Tralala. Literature paper 2.. was fine? The essay question was okay, since it felt more like a vomiting session to me. Hahaha. Writing out all the quotes that I remembered, just writing and writing. Vomiting all the facts/whatsoever out. Oh, the passage-based question sucked. BLEH. I shall not go on further, I think nobody knows what I'm talking about anyway.

And somebody please shoot me for coming online in the midst of the Os. Blah. Even though I see quite a number of people online on my msn list too.:D

November 22. November 22. November 22!!!!

* ♥ kyera @ 11:22 PM