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Young Writers' Poetry 2015

Young Writers' Poetry 2015 image

 Jack Adams, age 13

Gone

Today I made cakes with mum, she smiled for awhile

You’re still gone and I don’t know why

We went to the park and played football, mum was in goal

She isn’t as good as you, but she did her best for me

You’re still gone and I don’t know why

Mum said that you had to go away and wouldn’t be coming back

Did I do something wrong? Is that why you went away

You’re still gone and I don’t know why

Mum said that you’re in heaven, playing ball with Pebbles

I asked if I could play too, but mum said no

You’re still gone and I don’t know why

I'm now older and you’re still gone

I still don’t know why

Mum said if I ever I feel sad to look up high and there you are

You are the brightness star at night, the sunniest warmest day, the gentlest cloud in the sky, the warm breeze that surrounds me

You are not gone you are all around me, everyday keeping me safe.

Dad, I can’t see you but I can feel you.

Now I know why.

 

Bethany Cooper, age 12

The Sea

Grumpy whenever it wants to be,

Sometimes it frightens me,

Surfers paradise,

Only when it’s not as cold as ice,

Sharks hide there,

Fish fly in there.

 

But there are negatives,

Plastic bags, oil tanks,

Forever not treating the sea right,

Just think of the sea has a human.

 

Isabel Kumik, age 12

Annoying Big, Little Brother.

Small but mighty

Can be quite fighty

Always on your phone

Then you would groan.

 

Always asking me questions

Then making stupid suggestions

We can get along

Then something goes wrong.

 

We are brother and sister and stuck together

Can I live with you forever?

You are my “blob”

And can be such a snob

 

 But deep down I love you dearly

So very sincerely 

 

Shiqi Zhou-Bishop, age 14

Don’t read this poem

Don’t read this poem!

It’s only meant for me

It isn’t very good,

And there’s nothing here to see

 

Besides, I’m sure you’d rather

Just go and play.

So put this poem down,

And go away.

 

Hey, why are you still reading this?

That’s not very nice.

I’ve already told you once

Don’t make me ask you twice.

 

I’m telling you it’s private.

Don’t you dare read one more line.

Hey! That was one more, stop it!

This isn’t yours its mine.

 

Now that you’ve read this,

Instead of having fun.

It’s a bit too late now, my friend;

The poem’s almost done

 

There’s only one thing left to do.

Tell all of your friends and family

That they shouldn’t read it too!

 

Jordan Samuel-Stephens, age 15 

EIGHT SHEETS OF PAPER

Eight sheets of paper dictate our lives.

If you don’t do well on the eight sheets of paper

Then you don’t get paid with eight sheets of paper.

Then you will get a sheet of paper telling you to leave your house

And you will be on the streets,

Stuffing your coat with eight sheets of newspaper. 

 

Farida Soliman, age 13 

Goodbye

Her skin was a as pale as her white bed sheets

I couldn’t hear her heart beats

 

 She was wearing a long black dress

Her hair was tied back but still in a mess

 

Her hands were lying straight next to her waist

The nail polish on her nails were erased

 

I couldn’t hear her sound

But I could hear the sobbing and crying in the background

 

She didn’t say anything

But I wanted her to say something

 

My aunt taped me on the shoulder

Her hands couldn’t get any colder

 

She looked at me and said

Your granny is now dead

 

Don’t be upset she will be in a better place than us

Just call her goodbye and wish her the best

 

Jacob Evans, age 12

My Little Sis!

My sister was born at the dead of night,

She’s always liked to surprise us-as well she might,

The trouble now is that she is getting older,

My little sister HA HA has got much bolder,

She likes to sneak into my room at night,

And get in my bed and snuggle up tight,

My mates come round with me to hang out,

But Holly won’t leave us she just hangs about,

Even when I go to the bathroom she’s outside,

That’s something else I can’t abide.

Are all sisters just like this?

Or is it only my little sis. 

 

Bailey Daniel, age 12

On your marks……

The cool calm air rests against my skin,

I walk along the raised wet gripping edge,

I reach the block.

I slowly step up upon the gritty wet surface,

A long row challengers either side.

I then bend down to grip the rough edge of the block,

And wait for the call of take your marks.

Get set……..

As I hear take your marks I tense up,

Then I hear a beep,

I lunge forwards to break the surface tension.  

Go…………

 

Rowan Miller, age 13

The Best Day Of Your Life 

The best day of your life,

You’re going to become a wife.

The chairs are straight, the groom is late

The best day of your life!

The bells are about to ring,

The pageboy’s lost the rings,

The best day of your life!

The Rolls Royce ribbons are tied with bows,

Realised you forgot to paint your toes,

The best day of your life!

You dad doesn’t approve of him,

You don’t care ‘cause you love him,

The best day of your life!

Your stomach’s a sea of butterflies,

But you wouldn’t have it otherwise,

The best day of your life!

 

Kamilya Kulieva, age 13

The Last Goodbye.

I can’t remember when I last saw your smile,

I knew I wouldn’t see it for a while.

I thought when I come home,

I’ll hug you tight and not let go.

But when they told me you weren’t there anymore,

I felt so sad, like I’ve never felt before.

I wish I could see you just once more,

But what would that be for? 

 

Matti Adams, age 13

The Sea

The sea is multi coloured paradise

The waves ripple like a frown

It is a giant mirror reflecting the sun’s golden pathway

It is a blank canvas waiting for the sky to write on it

The sea is a rain forest underwater .

 

The sea is a soundtrack waiting to be heard

It plugs your ears like earmuffs

It is the giver of life

But

The waves are like giant jaws munching at the shore

It is unforgiving and volatile like a teenager

A never ending puddle of tears. 

 

Annie Bates, age 13

You won’t get far.

The taste of wilderness lingers in the air.

The wind is whispering “Enter if you dare.”

The floor is damp and you’re already cold.

They can’t hear you cry; you may as well try to be bold.

There’s no way out and you forget why you’re in.

It’s getting even colder and the wind bites you skin.

The creatures are coming and they smell your track.

Turn around quickly, you try to get back.

You forget your way and where you are.

Just stop trying you won’t get far.

The creatures are closer, they know who you are.

The sky turns black… You didn’t get far.

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