Drowned in the Unknown

A poem inspired by Holocaust survivor, Lilly Black (interview).

A new lily, comely and pristine,
Youthful and truly untouched,
to observe the first of what changed her life,
Religion to her body was clutched,

She saw the people being herded like cattle,
But why? Why were they being sent away?
Doubting all answers and ideas given,
No matter what her parents would say.

And soon she too was among the “lesser”,
Which she had questioned if they truly were worse,
but they must be, all Jews and herself,
She believed the people mouthed them a curse.

Why didn’t these observers do anything?
They let these soldiers shove us around,
Caged upon trains like meat sent for transport,
as the silent watchers stared to the ground.

Drowned into the black of unknown,
Constantly doubting her only kin’s life,
Robbed of her culture before the dark set,
Her dreams were slain and flame set to her strife.

Her finger scratched, was her life to be gone?
Her sister taken, was her soul as well?
The woeful unknown enveloped her so,
The circumstance naught but a frightening hell.

For the unknowingness was horrendous,
She never knew of her fate,
or what went through other people’s minds,
or if this pain were ever sate.

By Shivang Shelat


A Poem of Righteousness

Equality sought for throughout the world,
not communism but rather race and love,
an era of blood and conflict had unfurled,
where preference shouldn’t be considered as “above”,

The river of life goes on and on,
drowning some and stifling voices,
some could be saved, some could have lived,
if others had acted on their positive choices,

Their trains of thought regarded love,
in a different direction to others,
This pushed them down and into the dark,
estranging these sisters and brothers,

different orientations and different lusts,
the rights of humankind pushed aside,
violently ravaged and deprived of musts,
The desires of people utterly denied,

Vocal chords shot, place in life gone,
if equality came, all would rejoice,
for it is us, the youth’s responsibility,
to offer the voiceless their voice.

By Shivang Shelat

School Elections

The Fantastic Fellows have demonstrated their support for a candidate within MSJHS’s secretaries through poetic format.


A spin and a body roll,
a twirl and a kick,
knock out the opposition,
with naught but a flick,

Utter devotion to what she’ll do,
every moment carefully thought through,
Up the scale, the votes for her flew,
As she vanquished her foes, pew pew!

Quite kind as well as hardworking,
not a snake, nor using a sharp fang,
open to opinion, taking all advice,
the true one and only, Emily Zhang

Running up against beautiful people,
equally as hardworking and equally as fun,
Jonas and Annie shining like a bulb,
but Emily is shining just like the sun!



Due to frequent drama, the candidate we supported was forced into  a co-secretary position with another promising fellow, Annie. Our prayers and hopes go out to those in need along with those wishing for a great junior year within the class of 2019.


No other time can compare,

To the unfathomable despair,

That is final exams week,

Where pain is at its peak,

On the first day of dread,

Many were speared dead,

And many others turned and ran,

For it was English with Boogeyman,

But it was too late,

Doomed was our fate,

As the class average was only a 50%,

And speeding downwards our grades went,

Oh, the sorrow was too great,

Our hearts beating at a fast rate,

What was to be done,

For nothing was won,

The test was so specific,

But we are not terrific,

To failure we had to acknowledge,

For we could not make it to college,

And onto the streets we had to go,

Alone and homeless, married to Jethro…

Christmas is here.

Christmas has finally arrived, and after a day of silently spearing my brother in Civilization 5, I’m here to offer some poetry to lighten up the night. By the way, I just got Germany to pay ME to attack my brother behind the scenes. Politics.

From the rise of the sun,
to stretches in the night,
Santa has risen,
offering no fright

Children run amok,
New toys in their hands,
From wooden figurines,
to some Chinese fans,

I know this Christmas was great,
nothing as I feared,
For Santa always has,
His immense, white beard

I type this poem on a computer,
Given to me by my brother,
Beloved by my furry doog,
and my father/mother!

By Shivang Shelat