Brintha Yasodaran became the latest young poet to be raised to the chair of the Manx Youth Bard.

This month, Brintha, 16, shares one of her poems which she submitted to the judging panel and tells us about what inspired her to write it

In a small ceremony, held at the Tynwald offices last Monday, Brintha was named as the third Manx Youth Bard and handed the bardic robes and staff by the out-going youth bard, Xander Shirtliff.

She was selected after entering two poems to the competition, ’Ephemoros’ and ’The Spirals End’, both of which impressed the judges with her rich and deep, emotional content and authentic and refreshing style.

’I am a 16-year-old student from Ballakermeen High School with career aspirations in the field of science.

’However I do have a tendency to dabble with literature,’ said Brintha.

’I had enjoyed reading from childhood but my love for writing was sparked during the first lockdown where, with lots on my mind, I took to pen and paper to express myself creatively.

’My recent poem, Ephemeros, has the muse of a sunset I saw whilst in Douglas on a walk.

’I wished to portray the colours, shapes and grandeur which the sunset possessed with a realisation that soon it would fade.

’In fact, I found myself almost chasing the sunset around Douglas in attempt to see it in better view but ultimately incapable as it rendered to "abyss" with the passage of time.

’In a symbolic sense, the skyline emulated the "halcyon days" of my youth - of innocence and youthful exuberance - which as I enter my adolescence, start to fade away and become merely a "moment" from the past.

’On a more hopeful note, I hope my poem conveys the importance of being grateful for our current situation, regardless of how awful it may seem upon first glance.

’There is always beauty and inspiration to be found in nature that may not last as long as we hope but is here in the moment to be enjoyed.

’I am excited to write and share new poetry and hopefully inspire some others to start writing too.’

EphÄ?meros

In this moment,

She is a velveteen of contorting marigold -

of violet, vivacious and virgin,

energizing the blank field of sky.

In this moment,

I imagine myself curled amongst her.

Her ethereal embrace

Protects as though catcher in the rye.

In this moment,

The fabric of clouds fray

Like fibres of cotton,

Each particle dissolving into the abyss.

But soon, abyss alone fills my sight,

The fruits and flowers -

Raked by the farmer of the night.

Oh how I wish

For the moment to have frozen.

A fragment, trapped in ice,

Or captured in a globe

To be kept on a shelf

For every empty night.

EphÄ?meros -

Lasting but one day.