Every now and then someone sends us a poem that we really, really like or that we think is particularly good. When that happens we put the poem here. We hope you'll like these poems, too. Sky Song by Sydney Hawkins (aged 12) Shadows dance over glittering white. Snow wraps the ground like new paper, pure and smooth with innocence. Trees, bare of their leafy robes, salute the sky. Stars, like needle pricks in a black velvet blanket, appear as tiny windows to heaven. I lift my arms and squeeze the sky between my fingers. I drink it in. I breathe it in. My voice lifts with the crackling conversation of rigid trees, with the gentle whisper of snow, with the sweet song of the stars. Our different voices mingle and mix, run together, become one What is a Poem by Amber Hickman (aged 8) A poem is hidden in the soundless speechless soft clouds Tossing turning twisting in the crystal clear aquamarine sky Look inside a pleasing pretty flower Climb immeasurable immense impressive mountains If you find a poem handle it carefully Like a newborn puppy For a poem can die or slip through fingers Like creamy butter And be lost in the dark streets Look in places where you have never been before And there you might find a poem Lost somewhere in the soft clouds The clear sky or a pretty flower Waiting for you! Seeing Red by Sam Chilcott (aged 10) I see green lights at a distance I race my orange car as fast as a cheetah As soon as I speed up they turn red Annoyed Enraged Fiery Fuming Furious Red Causing obstruction hindrance Additional queues Cross Irritated Upset I wait for the lights to change But how long do I wait? Darkness by Natasha Pears (aged 8) I'm leaping around When the phone rings There is no laughter Your Grandad's died Said Mother. That's when darkness struck me I did not understand Well - I was little But something was wrong The bath overflowed with tears. My Teacher Ate My Homework Hi Yarll. You didn't write this did you? It's by Kenn Nesbitt. Copying other people's work can be quite serious you know, and you can be taken to court. It's called plagiarism. Not only that - it's no fun. Much better to write your own poems - RS My Perfect Grandmother by Amanda Melhuish (aged 12) My perfect grandmother, what would she know? That I was her granddaughter, something she would bestow My perfect grandmother, what would she be made of? Laughs and hugs, presents and lots of love My perfect grandmother, what would she wear? A pair of glasses over her eyes, a heart on her chest, and bobby pins in her hair My perfect grandmother, what would she cook? Anything low-fat, high taste, from a Betty Crocker cook book My perfect grandmother, what would make her fun? Her tales of the past, how it once was done. My perfect grandmother, what would she say? "I love you" every day My perfect grandmother, what would she sing? Anything that reminds her of the swing My perfect grandmother, what would her house be like? Huge with trees, stairs, an attic, all made of gold and hills to ride my bike My perfect grandmother, what would she look like? An angel in a fitted pair of pants, normal tunic shirt, nothing that her body would dislike My perfect grandmother, what would she teach? Wisdom of the past, World War II and great accents for different speech My perfect grandmother, what would she share? The spare foods and recipes, secrets, life knowledge, love, and paths to her secret lair My perfect grandmother, what would she leave? Her strength, courage, thoughts, and reasons why to believe My perfect grandmother, who would she love? My family and I, even from up above Binding the Mind by Jack Griffiths (aged 10) A book is as binding As its pages bound together. If a man in a book falls Down a deep hole, You fall. If a man soars above the clouds, You go up with him, When a man's hurt, You feel pain. When a man dies, You feel grief. If a man wins, You feel victorious, Because when you open a book, Ropes bind your mind and pull it into a world of fantasy. Tree House by Maria English Climb the ladder and don't look down Too often. Jump up on the platform to test your weight (If you're too heavy, I guess it's too late) Whisper the secret password Legolas And step forward into your house Play Gang-gang-a-more Pee-knuckle and Slap Until the sun goes down And your parents come to get you Mum might be able to get up But Dad won't The ladder can't hold people with heavy minds. Peace of Mind by Karis Viola Lambert (aged 11) When gravity denies itself And friction turns to water And the finest, thinnest milk Turns to heavy dough-like mortar When skies turn green Instead of blue And also I turn A different hue Only then, only there Would sadness stay in its domain And happiness, joy And peace remain. Change of Season by Hannah Griffin (aged 12) Change of season, When the leaves fall off the tree, The change of season Doesn't only affect you, It affects me. I'm lying under a tree Staring at your gravestone, In cold winter, Where and when should I go home? This change of season has brought such sadness in my eyes, Lying in the cold Falling asleep. But then a hand shakes me to wake me up, And I look up And nothing is there, And then I stare under the tree And scream, Why do you give such precious things and take them away? Why do you make me cry under an evergreen without a sign? Why should I cry when it's already gone? Why should I scream When I know that's how I feel? Well, The seasons change, And I'll get better soon. Metropoem by Celina (aged 13) I am wri ting this po em Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick To a met ro nome Tick tick tick tick tick So if I get just one beat wrong Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick It'll hit me with a ve ry long Stick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick The Battle by Hannah Baukert (aged 12) Spectral silence coats the ground like a gray mist Undisturbed except by lingering voices and hushed footsteps Silence broken by bursts of red and frantic pounding of feet Tufts of grass fly about the air as thin-soled shoes run upon it Bullets are hurled, making slight banging noises, they hit the empty air Soldiers scatter about, ducking into a dank forest Bewildered, completely flabbergasted, Numbers of hustling soldiers shout in pained cries Incoherent babbles are shouted by some Others try to suppress their pain and misery, As they attempt to show a ramshackle kind of courage, as if attempting to make death glorious Shouts and screams glaze over in a blur The sky is already red, as the sun is threatening to set The painful screams seem do die away, as the rejoicing voices start Apparently a battle has been won Soldiers retreat to dark tents As the sun becomes only a hole in the penetrating darkness Soldiers suppress their thoughts And attempt to ignore faint cries from hurt ones they succeed in doing so and sleep My Shadow by Malcolm Bean (aged 11) For the longest time I remember nothing but my shadow My friend my shadow We sat we talked we played but we were alone together Just me and my shadow We did everything together because wherever I went So did my shadow But now I've met you, Oh the world begins again and I Will be your shadow Black and White by Cheyenne Maynor (aged 8) These things that are black and white make me smile… Dalmatian puppies in the park A shining moon in the dark "Curly Top", my favorite old show Charcoal eyes on a man made of snow Lightning streaks on a stormy night My great grandma's house in the sunlight Playing dominoes with my family Watching the orcas swim on TV Chocolate chip ice cream at the soda shop Vanilla cake with chocolate frosting on top A zebra, a panda, a cow, and a mime My best friend, Tia's, hand in mine Poem of Poverty by Rosemary Dann (aged 12) Written after watching Children In Need I look at the News. Another flash of third world children. Flies flitting round faces that don't look human. Every person sees these pictures, Yet it doesn't reach them. There is praying in church for our "Unfortunate brothers and sisters" What family are we? The prayers give us hope, but we do not need that hope. They do. World leaders are spending millions on weapons of war. Weapons of death. And even 'innocent' companies such as Nestle Are helping defeat human happiness. As we snuggle down in bed at night We do not think of how Ethiopian children will be spending that same night Under that same sky. And who will not live through it. And then, we see more pictures, Of radiant faces at a newly-built water pump. The water splashing out into the hot hard ground. Those faces know how lucky they are. We don't. We need to act. Relatives by Elliot Gale (aged 7) I am related to you If the story of Noah is true. Life with Matthew by Matthew Murray (aged 9) I have hypermobility syndrome which means I get a lot of pain It keeps me awake at night sometimes and makes me feel lame. Sometimes at my old school some of the kids would say Matthew in a wheelchair but he could walk yesterday. My Mum always says be careful don't run around too much but it's easy to say that especially when you're in a rush. But I wish could play football every week like the rest of my class but if I'm not feeling very good I stay inside or sit on the grass. When I was small my hearing was wrong Glue ear, Mum says it's called It made me deaf so I could not hear so my speech isn't very good. Each day is different to another Mum gets worn out too but I have hypermobility that's the different between me and you. So please don't judge me by the way I speak or think I look funny when I walk or ask my Mum, "How is Matthew today?" I might use a wheelchair but I can still talk. Morning Break by Connor Hinsley (aged 9) Nigel Kreen plays tiggy Bart climbs on the roof Agent D bursts drainpipes Lizzie's lost a tooth Dean and Shane are Zombies Eddie's got a stick Mickey has gone bonkers Darren's hitting Nick Michael's putting hedgehogs Down Christina's pants Roberts eating crackers Simon's crushing ants! Kevin's singing smash hits Really out of tune Harry's got a Penguin He'd better shift it soon! Lara's shouting swear words Tariq's gone to sleep Teachie's giving lectures Sarah is Bo-Peep Decal's playing bingo Dave shouts "86" Annie's slapping Thuggy Den's got party mix Bazzer's cards are swapping Louie's being sick Gary Dawes shouts "woo-hoo" Hectors got a chick Oscar's got a Bogie Ben's got a milk shake It's all a lot of nonsense During morning break. Blank Page 'til the Ink Comes by Ashley A. Bates Blank page, The way life looked, 'Til the ink came. Blank page, The way hearts felt, 'Til the ink came. Blank page, The way music sounded 'Til the ink came. Blank page, The way words tasted, 'Til the ink came. Blank page, The way home smelt, 'Til the ink came. Blank page, The way paper was 'Til the ink came. I Am by Clint Wilson (aged 11) I am a simple boy who likes turtles. I wonder what the universe will be like in 2020. I hear many sad tears. I see people losing their families. I want peace in the world. I am a simple boy who likes turtles. I pretend to stop a war. I feel as if something stabbed me. I touch the end of the Earth. I worry about the sea and the land. I cry about the death of people. I am a simple boy who likes turtles. I understand there are some things that people can't do. I say people should believe more in each other. I dream about things I see. I try to do better in everything. I hope this war will end. I am a simple boy who likes turtles. Moon Blossom by Hannah Baukert (age 12) Fragile glowing flower opens in the darkness of the night staring at the glowing world miles and miles away Moon blossom waiting to wither and die once the harsh planet rises waiting to be burned Moon blossom rarely seen, and never wanted Moon blossom Spends its last hours crying in the darkness of the night Little child sees the blossom marvels at its beauty then promptly plucks the blossom from the ground the Moon blossom shrivels and dies Before she had a chance to really live Before she could see the sun The Tsunami by Devon Conrad (aged 11) An underwater quake. No one felt it shake And then the wave came. If you feel no sadness, You should feel such shame For what happened to all, The short and the tall. People and supplies Were sent to help, But were surprised At all those poor children And adults too Who were killed By the wave, Unfamiliar and new, That nobody knew Was coming through. Two hundred thousand deaths And so many gone missing. Here in these fortunate countries We are so ignorant! Tears wash over my face Like a thousand tsunamis. The Weathers of the World by Luke Rhodes (aged 10) What is the rain? - A puddle of tears falling down to the ground What is the snow? - A chaotic blast from a heart made of ice What is the hail? - A beam of heavy torrential ice What are the sandstorms? - A raging striking vortex of darkness and dust What is the lighting? - An energy blast aiming for the ground mixed with the elements What are the clouds? - An extraordinary place where the devil's cellars are hidden What are the rainbows? - A colourful radiant ray of mixed feelings, some good and some bad What is the moon? - An everlasting darkness covering a sheet of blanket over us What are the stars? Tiny twinkling flames with ember which dance in the sky ready to burst What is the sun? A huge meteor of inferno with a world of its own What is life? Sometimes helpful sometimes chaotic The world can't be judged all the time At Night by Meghan Boroughs (aged 11) My breathing is calm, quiet and slow. The trees start moving, as the wind starts to blow. Around me I hear sounds, of owl, cricket, leaves and wind. As if nothing could ever break them. My breathing still goes on, With each steady, deep breath, I almost am sure I am living a myth. For there is no moon, no stars, no cries. All there is? Black, black sky. And I feel God is with me. I shall never die. Treasure Hunt by Maria English (aged 12) I blindly stumble Trying to find something solid to hold on to An anchor to steer me in the right direction. Shadows of numbers Whispering the answers Silencing themselves Whenever I get close. And the whole foggy world laughing at my blindness, The elephant eludes me. I don't realise It is my very solution's enormous shadow That keeps me in the dark. A treasure hunt through my thoughts - I'm sure I know the answer to this algebra question! I Was Going To Write A Poem Today by Maria English (aged 12) I was going to write a poem today But I'm afraid to say I can't. My mind's as empty as a barrel And every time the faintest trace of an idea appears in my head It glides like a fish And slips and slides its way out of my mind Before I can grab it. I'm tired of thinking All through the day And my brain has gone to bed He's curled up in a bundle Cosy, inside my head. My intellect has gone a-wandering Over the wide, blue sea of knowledge And she's taken my memory as a boat Sailing over the endless horizon Bobbing up and down On the waves. I was going to write a poem today But I'm afraid to say I can't. My tap of words has run dry And a greedy drought Has soaked up my pool of thoughts Why not visit the Simply the Best archive? This will take you back to the top