The Best of the Best Archive Welcome to the Simply the Best archive. Here's where we keep the poems that we think are really excellent. If you want to read the best poetry we've been sent - then you're in the right place. Enjoy. A Smile by Maria (aged 12) A smile can tell a story or whisper a single word Brightens a face Shadows a past Welcomes Repels A cover-up A window to the mind A stairway to the heart. Fear by Awate H. Serequeberhan (aged 12) Fear looks like that monster from your closet dark and hidden because that is what you thought when you were six. Fear sounds like the snoring of your father in the other room, The growling of a hungry troll outside your door because that is what you thought when you were six. Fear feels slimy, sticky, rough, and warty, a swamp monster, a mop from the janitor's closet because that's what you believed when you were six. Fear tastes thick, leathery, and nasty in your mouth that you want to spit out fast because that's what fear tasted like when you were six. Fear smells like a poisonous gas that intoxicates you because fear is like that when you were six. Fear moves through your mind, creating images that aren't there because that is fear's way when you are six. Fear wants you to stay up half the night hoping there isn't anything in that closet of yours because that is fear's job when you are six. If fear could speak, it would say "you can't hide forever," because fear feeds on your fear when you are six. A Single Tear by Imogen Giles (aged 11) A single tear is as strong as a mountain, as steady as a jog, as determined as a thought. A single tear can tell many stories: Stories old, stories new. A single tear can be of hatred of sadness of happiness of relief of gladness of joy of beauty. A single tear is a beautiful lake, a muddy puddle. A single tear is the creator of the world; the suffering the new the old the celebrated the feared the unknown. A single tear is as old as the world and as young as a lamb, as innocent as a child, as evil as man. a single tear is a book a tale a lie a trick the truth. A single tear is my loved one, my hated one. A single tear is a single tear, lost in one blink of an eye. If Grandad's Cat Left by Russell Fleming (aged 10) If Grandad's cat left she'd miss; Climbing up the cabinet, And resting beside the model Concorde. If Grandad's cat left she'd miss; Sitting on the mat, gazing up at the model Tirpitz, And lying by the model Lancaster, guarding it. If Grandad's cat left she'd miss; Tiptoeing over the hundreds of models my Grandad made, And sleeping on the spare bed when she wasn't supposed to. If Grandad's cat left she'd miss; The fresh ham Grandad got her from the supermarket, And the fish fingers without the batter. If Grandad's cat left she'd miss; Walking on top of the shed roof, And attacking the spare bedroom window. If Grandad's cat left she'd remember; The day I accidentally shut her tail in the door, And the day she was banned fish fingers, because she broke the model Typhoon! Blue by Kristen Jenkins (aged 10) Blue is like the sky floating in the air saying whooo - you feel the breeze in your hair. Blue is as lovely as beautiful flowers blossoming in Spring. It reminds me of all the smells of grapes, blue berries, and plums that smell oh, so good. Blue is the beach, the ocean, the wonderful smell of the sea and the wind. Blue is a star in the wonderful sky, a night moon saying goodnight to you. Blue is a month, a month for you. Your birthstone could be blue. I love blue! Maybe you love blue, too? Do you love blue? Blue could be your feelings; you're gloomy, unhappy, and miserable. Blue is in you! You do love blue! Blue is your broken heart. It is unhappy. Maybe, just maybe, you love blue, too. If I Could Be by Hannah Ehrlich (aged 11) If I could be anything I would be a thrown-out shopping bag would be me. I'd sit on the front porch of a redwood villa, and dream of groceries, math books and Benjamin Stiller. I'd drift away to play tennis with the sunset-lit clouds. Take a flight in a trail of LA gas shrouds. I'd travel the world, what a trip I would have, I'd discover the wonders of poverty and of wealth, I'd find out the difference between pride and peace, I'd watch people on the borders of illness and health. I'd count the snowflakes that powder a mountain. I'd study at Oxbridge, I'd drink from their fountain. I'd wear a tankini, I'd eat snail shells in France. I'd bring supplies to Africa, and in Spain I'd dance. I'd get my own back at that awful Waitrose, I'd explore ancient caves hidden where nobody knows. I'd tuck myself in under freshly raked leaves, I'd sing jolly folk songs in the crick of the moon, I'd listen to the wind kiss the overhead branches, I'd hear the hawk squawk and the nightingale croon. I'd swallow what the kind giving tides would bring in, I'd skip stones at the goals of the waves, I'd let wind bloat my stomach as I hang on for dear life, I'd dance and I'd sway on the message board staves. But alas, I'm a young girl, poor as can be. But if I had freedom, that would be me. The Holocaust by Bethany Negus (aged 11) Destruction of men, women and children No hopes and ambitions to believe in Burning furnaces sizzling in your ear No shoes to cover your cold, worn feet Just skin to tear on the uneven ground A gun shot ringing in your ear Waiting for your turn Pits of death full of innocent Jews Why, Hitler? Why? Lone Wolf by Lissa Karapostoles (aged 12) The moon is out, The stars are bright. A lone wolf howls On this dazzling night. With lemony eyes, He stares into the dark. With an enormous mouth, He presents his bark. The other animals Tilt their heads, While listening to What he has said. He tells them of Great, faraway lands, Of Princes and Princess' Whose lives are grand. The stories are about Truth, peace, love, And what it is like to fly In the clouds above. Sometime tonight Listen if you care, 'Cause the Lone wolf will tell you Of the wonders out there. Chocolate for You! by Dana Walshaw (aged 11) What else could you need But a scrumptious chocolate to kiss your throat? I'm waiting for you… Reach out your hand, Touch my silver coat, I know you can't resist. Undo me gently, softly… When my creamy chocolate, Touches your lips, the shivering sensation will take over, And you will eat me until you are licking your fingers wanting more… Delicious, heavenly, milky, You will be caught in a dream, Until every drop has been eaten and you are left tingling with delight! The Medal by Jamie Ogilve (aged 10) His medal tells a story, the story of his life. How proud he must have been With bands playing and soldiers marching A tiny speck of gold on his chest The medal. At first it was clean But now it's all dusty It's been passed on, through generations Nobody knows where it is Except the medal. Lying in a drawer for several years Dustier and dustier As the time passes by But still it lies there Even through time it's not been forgotten It's still the medal of my uncle. The Queen of the Sea by Helena Francis (aged 7) I am the queen of the sea No one can battle against me Watch those great galleons Splinter against the rocks They will never stand a chance Because I am the queen of the sea When galleons crash Tiny men fall into the ocean that swirls beneath them They plunge right down and are gone from sight I twist my hand and make a circle I keep twisting and then faster and faster Suddenly it's a whirlpool The men go down the tunnel of waves and end in my cave I put them in my sack My fist is so large I can make a deep hole in the sand I drop them in they go swirling down I cover them with a big clump of sand I go to my little ocean where my waves are crashing I shout calm; they stop and start a low rocking They stop completely after a time All the men are gone I say You can stop and rest But remember people I am the queen of the sea I am the queen of the sea I am the queen of the sea Remember what happened today When the greatest ship was wrecked Do you know why? Because I am the queen of the sea No one messes with me Because I am the queen of the sea No one messes with me Autumn by Courtney Inch (aged 7) The leaves tumble down like golden butterflies Then lay as a flush of colour on the sodden ground; The dry cracked trees stand bare and restful As the icy winds begin to blow. The fallen conkers unwrapped from their coats Lay shiny and brown on the dense damp grass; The scurrying squirrels hurriedly gather their winter stores And the shivering birds collect the ripening berries. Soon it will be winter; snow, ice and rain Animals hiding, sleeping in their warm, comfy nests Away from the howl of wind, patter of the rain Only the robin will dare to ruffle its feathers. Colours Of Destruction by Rachel Britton (aged 10) Red is the anger I feel when I hear of all the unnecessary deaths of innocent creatures, Orange is the shimmering yet bloodstained coat of the distressed tiger, Yellow is the sun peeking through the trees and reflecting off the hunter's bloody knife, Green is the polluted ocean with litter carelessly scattered across the oily surface, Blue is the sadness I suffer from when people take fun out of killing, Indigo is the deserted sky where all the birds have been swept to the floor, where they now lie, lifeless, Violet is the feathers steadily moulting from the king of the sky, Black is the dark nothingness when the hunters realize that they have murdered races and races of exotic creatures with the right to live. But it's too late. Bully by Charlotte King (aged 10) Being bullied isn't just a punch, A bully can be a hurtful word. I looked up in the mirror, And I saw myself, Staring up at me, A tear too many drips down my face. I couldn't forget about what he'd said, You would have thought I wasn't scared, But I was, I couldn't stop my fear, It was like a bell, inside my sizzled head. Danger Woman by Dahiru Usman (aged 12) Gold rolled up her twisty, mumbling, soft lips. Hers? Licking it slowly like screen wipers Powder of white revolve upon her stabbing face Long hair swings upon her unstable back like galloping horses Her nails dyed red Eyes shine like a google diamonds; cat like Teeth sparkling out white like polished silver With chaplets of Arabian and British 24 carat dangling up her flexible neck Rolex tick- tocks upon her wrist like a grandfather clock And foreign bangles rotate upon her 360 degree wrist Dwells in fashion, fanciness & wealth Tons of diamonds unite upon preciosity upon her leathery fingers Twitching her eyes devilishly like a car's headlights As she moves as swift as a feather with no friction! Bogus earrings dancing, cling to her ears Dangling like ringing bells Perfumery scent stumbled and settled upon her stylish dress She smokes her long golden rolled Cuban cigar She blasts out her clinical, American accent saying Hello as she waves Metamorphosis!!! And her high heels clump like thundering bullets Two Worlds Collide by Amber Doran (aged 12) Almost in another world. Almost, not completely. In one way I am sitting by the riverbank. Both eyes seeing, both ears listening. Peaceful, the song of birds is the music I dance to. The smell of mint and green grass freshly cut, The feeling of the warm earth beneath me. Warm but shaded, cool but humid. The ducks floating by drift away. Ripples from the water float to the shore. The light from the sun shines on the water And reflects the flowers near the edge. Almost in another world. Almost, not completely. In one way I am sitting near the riverbank, and yet Not more than two blocks away Is the sound of cars speeding, bumping, honking. Sirens blaring, workers working, people talking. Two worlds collide. Almost in another world. Almost, not completely. Time by Sarah B. Bernardo (aged 8) Time is slow and untamed Or it gets you framed. Without a moment to think As your spirit sinks. You whirl into an illusion of time As you try to work or rhyme The way I'm doing now While I ask the question "How?" Time passes as you roll a die Or tell a lie. Sometimes, time is good When your birthday turns out as it should. But, sometimes time is bad When your father dies when you were a lad It's very sad. But without time You wouldn't be here. So, don't fear. Mystical Beauty by Sabrina Bolvari (aged 12) Look at the unicorn as it shakes its mane. Its beauty is as flawless as its graceful movements. Watch it run. It is not tame. It sweeps by like the wind. Look at the dragon as it soars, its wings spread. It's as comfortable in the sky as a bird. Look at its body, its large, scaly head. It is a huge thing, a force to be reckoned with. Watch that Pegasus cut through the sky. A horse that has wings and lives in the air. Wow, could you imagine a horse fly? I can, but maybe that's because I'm watching it. All these sightings are dreams come true. I try to grasp the scenes with my mind's eye, Because I know they don't exist for me or you. I'm taking in all the beauty that I can at once. I'm afraid to wake up, I want to stay here. But I know I'll wake soon, it's inevitable. I'm getting ready to do it, the time is near. The clock is running out all too quickly. Butterflies by Qu'ran Davis (aged 5) Butterfly, butterfly One as one. Your wings are so warm. Your body is so black and orange. In the white flowers you can play. Your heart is like other butterflies. You are probably happy because you can fly, No people can fly like you. To A Horse by Amy Mckenzie (aged 10) Big strong and powerful beastie, O, what a strength's in thy breastie! O, dinna run at such a speed or I might fa af an' brac my heed. The Dreadful Noise of Silence by Nicole B. Bernardo (aged 8) Ever since my family died, I've been hearing a dreadful noise. I can't explain the noise at all. I ache I hurt I cry I bleed inside to know. You see, my family was very loud. But now, it's different Something's wrong. What's the answer? I used to ask But now, I know the answer to the task. "It's the dreadful noise of silence" I now whisper, "The dreadful noise of silence." Mother by Qu'ran Davis (aged 5) Your eyes are like a blue sky Your bones, like my bones. Your eyes the same eyes as mine. The sky like your lips like the sky. Your head like my head. The Wounded Bird by Kristan Jacobs-Kafarski (aged 8) I am a bird, a wounded bird. My wing is shattered and torn. I can't bear it any longer. No one can hear my tears, I call And call, but no one comes. I am looking for somewhere to shelter, But all I can find is a little cave. Still the wind blows against me. Just then the wind came a lot faster, And blew the rock that was on top. I needed to find another, but I can't Find anything. The wind must have blown Everything away. I wish my mum was here, She always knew what to do. The wind has stopped, I looked at My wounded wing and thought. Had other birds been in the storm? Or was it just me. I found a Shelter and rested my wing in case The storm comes back. The tears in my eye Drop like rain from the sky. Sun by Nora (aged 12) the sun is a leaping fire too hot to go near but it will still lie down in warm yellow squares on the floor like a flat quilt, where the cat can curl, and purr Merry Old Thames by Samuel Maywood (aged 11) Bubbling, swooshing Gurgling and gushing The merry old Thames goes Burbling by Gushing from springs In hilly things Up in the Cotswolds Zipping down fast Just going quickly, quickly past Oxford just a jumble of towers Whooshing through Henley, a town of Flowers Tumbling over rocks and weirs It's slowing down, getting bolder Gradually, gradually getting Older Hitting the big Teddington lock The one and only tidal block Slowly going past big moored shipping But now with the strong tidal flow To London we go, we go, we go Going past shipping just afloat Not going fast in our tour guide boat More shipping standing by The big Canada tower, towers high Watching the shipping go by go by Meeting the sea is tricky stuff Especially when the sea is rough Big oil tankers go lumbering by Here in the water people take a dip This is the end of our Thames trip how to fly by Emma Richards (aged 12) down from the sky came the child floating gently on the breeze no wings had she nor magic nor tricks only this she had remembered what we had forgotten how to soar on the wings of her mind through the sky or more simply how to fly Why? by Songhee Kim (aged 12) Why is this poem shrinking? Maybe it's that I'm not thinking, Or maybe it's just me that's getting really small where I'm sitting. Night in the City by Daniel White (aged 8) Night in the city is beautiful So beautiful the lights look like jewelry on buildings. Night in the city is so beautiful The stars look like diamonds in the sky. And if you listen close enough You can hear the cats meowing in the alleys. And when morning comes, all these things drift away Until the next sundown. All In A Good Book by Tori Jovanovski (aged 11) Suddenly, it steals me. It slithers on thieves' furtive feet, And takes me clean out Of my chair. Whirling, turning, Spiralling, twirling, It only stops in front of A magnificent castle. Here there are horses, The sable delights of darkness, And moonlight streaks across their forelocks. The riders are gallant, the saviours of the suffering. But I am swept away again. This time, a pirate ship looms near. A boy stands in the crow's nest, His little cap is part of the forest so green, He fights a pirate, a wicked wizard of the sea. I am transported safely back. I've been on a roller-coaster, To the centre of the earth and back again, All in a good book. Holly by Matthew Beattie (aged 11) These are the shoes that Holly wore. She wore them everyday. She wore them at home. In nursery. These are the shoes that Holly wore. I remember the times we played in the park Until the skies were twinkling. Those were the days; when Holly wore those shoes. We splashed in the puddles Jumping in the summer showers, when Holly was young. Eating a picnic, The raspberries we'd picked, Sitting on the cool, green grass. Now the leaves falling, Falling all around us, Kicking them everywhere. These were the times Holly wore her shoes. Now there is snow. Glistening, magical, falling to the ground. We held our heads up high, Letting the snow tickle our tongues. Making snowballs, snowmen. Her feet not cold, never cold. These were the shoes that Holly wore. The Shearer Slug by Coral Turner (aged 10) My version of the Lambton Worm put together with ideas from class 9 at our school. One Sunday mornin' Shearer went A-fishin' in the Tyne, An' catched a fish upon his hook He thought looked mighty fine. But what a kind of fish it was Young Shearer couldna explain, He wouldna fash to carry hyem So he hoyed it doon a drain. Now Shearer felt incline to gan An play for foreign teams' So off he went to Bangladesh To resurrect his dreams. So off he went to Bangladesh Where he would win a game, So very soon he forgot aboot The queer Slug doon the drain. But the Slug got fat, an' growed an' growed And growed an awfu' size; He'd great big belly, great big gob An' horrid ugly eyes. This nasty beast would often feed On parents an' teachers, He'd enter their houses with a bang! And swallow small creatures. An' when he'd eaten a' he could And when he'd had his fill, He slimed his way up Tynemouth pier An crashed doon Billy Mill. The news of this most awfu' Slug And his queer goins-on Soon crossed the skies gat to the ears, O' brave and bold Sir Alan. Walls by Ana (aged 13) So we all just MIND OUR OWN BUSINESS and go on with life. Sometimes it seems the walls talk more than we do they scream and yell while we silently cover our ears. The Final Twelve Minutes by Jayla' McCann (aged 12) Screeching people, shattering glass, Twisting metal, fiberglass. The scene is set, it all goes black, The curtain raised, twelve minutes to the final act. Japanese torpedoes hit the ship, The U.S.S Indianapolis sank really quick. Too many people died, Only 316 survived. Captain McVay was put on trial, They said he was in denial. Too many bad memories going in his mind, So in return he committed suicide. After this the jester finds, It wasn't his fault for those lives. We will always remember this, U.S.S Indianapolis sank in the final twelve minutes. Gruff Goat by Celeste McEvoy (aged 8) I am the gruff goat I don't trot along like a pig I glide through the air, I hover like a bee and shoot like a shooting star. I don't eat hay or straw I gooble winding rose stalks, small insignificant bugs and fluffy, white clouds, with silver linings. I don't drink water I gulp down moon juice, the blood of a hunchback dragon and the champagne of Britney Spears. I don't sleep in the cold farm house I doze in the sky, floating on the air, on the bed of the farmer and his wife and the table of a school in Bell Farm. I don't give milk I spurt a magical river of sparkling pink and red, a rush of all kinds of jewels and the drink that god and the angels' of god drink. Sun by Ashley Ferrari (aged 11) Shining so brightly in the midday sky Leaving no mercy to dry plants who linger so weakly below The only water to be seen Is the sweat dripping dropping PLOP! Onto the scorching pavement beneath. Banana by Sophie Morgan (aged 8) Mummy wrote on my banana Not to forget to bring My PE kit home With "PS I love you!" I kept the banana skin Until it went all black Then I cried. Battle by Sean Fuller (aged 12) Its penetrating structure stands dominant on the sand. It scuttles slowly and steadily forward. It is refueling while sleeping the afternoon away. It suddenly wakes to the other machine's engines, Full of angry rage. The mouthpiece of the grasshopper trembled as it sensed fear, The imaginary antennae prepared for action, A long war has just begun. Its eyes beamed in the burning sunlight, The sunlight became unbearable hot as it reflected on the heavy green armour of the grasshopper, The deadly pincers smashed through the other armour. In a hasty retreat the defeated warrior surrendered. The victor with triumphant stance, scanned the horizon for fresh blood. Dream by Elizabeth Marie Garner (aged 8) I see a cat and it got killed In my dream I have glistening eyes and as I gaze at the stars I see mom and she goes and leaves me and I see light and I go farther and farther and I go in and see my family I go and mom pushes me Like in my eyes I hear a crack and see the hope and dreams and I see fantasies and I reach in the eyes I dream and wonder and cry myself I am awakened by a shattering noise and a fish in water and a bloody river and I pray as I look at the fish and I wish Stars, Moon and Sun by Robyn Hunt (aged 12) I went to the Poetry Zone Looking for fun Thought I'd send a poem About the stars, Moon, and Sun The Sun, as you know Is extremely hot Cold as the Arctic It's certainly not It rises at dawn To create the day Stay it does not To our dismay The Moon you may think Is made of blue cheese But I know it's not I'll explain, if you please The Moon, I've been told Is really a rock This came to me As quite a shock The stars in the sky Are big balls of gas They're very large And greater in mass The stars have been named Things such as Polaris A shooting star Is a thing not to miss This is my poem That's it, the end Now I'll click the button Labelled 'Send' A Special Day by Juliette Millard (aged 11) I sit upon my windowsill Looking at this one frame A picture that shows everything A very special day I look deep into the eyes Of she who is within Then I can rewind and see The joy of that Is the joy of me I sit and stare Joyfully care Of that Which was my day The colours The trees The magic The breeze That was with me all the way I remember each step I took Every thing I looked at It's all in this picture That sits here on my lap Again I sit upon my windowsill Looking at this one frame A simple picture that shows everything Is magic in every way When I Was Young by Molly Ford (aged 11) When I was young, I stayed up till midnight Watching scary movies Which gave me a fright. I ate pizza and chips and threw away school slips. I didn't clean my room I didn't touch the broom and I didn't wake up till the afternoon. Not really!! I went to bed when it wasn't even dark, While the other children were playing in the park. I ate my dinner elegantly and I walked to school gracefully. My room was spotless and my hair was knotless! Bored With Haiku by Christopher (aged 10) Go away get lost I hate speaking in haiku It's an awful bore Coldness by Zhen Zhen Ma (aged 12) You are as cold As the Winter, As a shard of ice; As a solitary snowflake, As the grip of a vice. You are as cold As bleak oblivion, As the biting frost; As the piercing wind, Like the sun's been lost. You are as cold As a cruel fiend, As a cheating lover's kiss; As a dismissing goodbye, As a snake's striking hiss. You are as cold As white marble, As a murderer's heart; As smooth flowing water, Like a deadly dart. You are as cold As a crystal dagger, As a stone in disguise; As the moon shining bright, Like a slain man's eyes. You are as cold As wasted time, As the bittersweet truth; As a traitor's promise, As the fatal loss of youth. Sun by Ariel Shahar Burton (aged 12) rise burning sun for your sleep is over and it's your turn to light my world sleep tired sun for it is night out and the moon shall rise and shoot its beautiful beams dance graceful sun exercise your rays into our dark world jump restless sun rise over the sleeping trees and mountains freeze the cold wind in it's tracks make our earth warm and lush. Our Flower by Amy Stanlake (aged 10) Daffodils dancing on the ground, Amazed at them as they move around. Flowers clapping in the crowd, Flowers cheering very loud. On March the first St David died, David's friends, they cried and cried. In flower pots there is some light, Lovely daffodils so yellow, so bright. Piranhaman by Jack Tyler (aged 9) As slimy as a snake With a whipping tail Piranhaman hunts the night. Wearing his grotesque ebony shorts And a piranha for his hand With razor sharp teeth You would not be brave enough To go near him. Holding a sceptre in his hand With a diamond in its heart He is not the guy to mess with. Around his neck he wears a yellow medallion And a crystal topped crown I wouldn't like to meet him on a cold winter's night. The Runner Bean Patch by Seb Hornby (aged 11) I quietly grow, Emerging out of my seed, Dominating my ground, Squeezing anything in my path, I spread around like a plague, And then shoot up to the surface, Monopolizing the atmosphere, From one end to another, Nothing but runner bean, Constantly multiplying, Millions, Billions, Trillions, Never stopping, I take over, Hurting and strangling without muscles, Anchored in earth, In control of everything. The Arms of Morpheus by Zoe Bernard (aged 12) The moon lay at the fingertips of the wind, while the sun, buried beneath the ocean's grave slept on into the night. From afar, the planets drew back the flickering curtain of twilight and silently watched the earth. The flowers closed their silky petals in around them and dreamed of the morning to come. The trees, timeworn and somnolent were still and quiet as the drowsy wind lay to rest among the sleepy faeries. The Courtyard by Ariel Shahar Burton (aged 12) The world hidden by the classrooms. The courtyard is green like a rainforest, Its trees making a small rainforest, The flowers flowing this way and that like a rainbow. Where sparrows nest in the small trees and squirrels eat nuts. Where the sound of chalk hitting the chalkboard is like a faint whisper. The courtyard was once a secret garden for me, But the secret's out. Lake Michigan's Night Sky by Ariel Shahar Burton (aged 12) Lake Michigan makes me feel relaxed, The crickets chirping so subtle and still The grass swishing on the rocky hills. The sun turns colors of purple and blue, The sky so colorful, like an oil painting Capturing the details of nature, so true. Lake Michigan, a mysterious place Where the frogs and fish meet face to face. But the best mart of all is the quiet moon What Could Go Wrong Next? by Ashley Harris (aged 11) Ah, man, My locker shut The bell rang Oh no, a tardy It's just an awful day What could go wrong next? The lunch lady gave me peas instead of corn My lunch is soggy and cold Ketchup squirted My milk spilled I have stains on my shirt What could go wrong next? The bus is late It's cold out here My ears are red What could go wrong next? The bus is noisy Kids are screaming I lost my key What do I do now? I grab a friend! Travelling in Time by Sarah Holley (age 9) Can you travel in time? Can you control the time line? If you could, where would you go? To the time where there was always snow? Would find Laura Ingall's missing jack, Or would you go even farther back? What about the dinosaur age, Or possibly the ocean stage! Would you listen to M. L. King, Or listen to an old opera sing? Maybe play with King Tut's cat, Or throw the ball to Babe Ruth's bat. Would you feed Mary's ride, Or would you travel where the tee-pees hide? Maybe when a caveman walked, Or when the heavenly gates were locked To any evil man. Maybe you can. You can travel to the old frontier, But I'm going to stay right here. Valmir Has Left by Brian (Year 5) I felt I was buried alive I felt as dumped as an old pair of trainers. When he left, he slammed the door like the window was blown. I was abandoned like a dusty old unused toy. I felt heart broken like a egg being dropped I was empty like I have not eaten. Play Time by Nicola (aged 8) Children running very fast Chasing dropped papers How long are they going to last? Boys play football Shoot into the net Catch a goal if you can Quick, quick, quick The skipping rope goes round and round and round and round it goes. Some play tig and some play chase Come on Johnny win the race. Someone Left School by Hayley (Year 5) When my friend left school, I felt as lost as an old unused ball in a maze, I felt as cold as a fridge, As sour as sugared red sweet apples, It was like I left the world and saw the light I was planning never to see. I wanted to be alone like an alley Filled with acid to warm people, I felt as empty as a deserted desert That was once a village. It was all like the unhappiness I have Splattered with the village And they were drawn away. Suddenly a tidal wave of tears Leaped out of my red stinging eyes That's how I felt This is what I know Nobody will understand anyway. They lead a perfect life with friends forever Someone left school. Sounds by Francis (aged 7) Hyenas laugh loudly in the misty morning, Children giggle when they play in the park, My mummy chuckles when we make her giggle, Colourful clowns are silly and they make everyone smile The hooting of a snowy white owl, The barking of a big English Sheep dog, The meow of a black and white cat, The cry of a long nose dolphin. Clashing of a massive wave, Splashing of the deep, deep sea, The waves crash on the dark rocks, The calm sea makes me feel relaxed. Uncle Michael by Angus Hayes ( aged 11) He sits in his castle, The tickling Lord, his hands are like a venomous sword Cutting down slicing through Tickling, tickling, tickling you. Liking mess - no sirree! Is that a speck of dust I see? Out comes the Hoover, up it goes Now tuck your shirt in and wipe that nose. He runs a shop of odds and ends, broken pencils and strange old pens. Planks of wood and nails, too He runs his shop all year through. Impolite by Michael (aged 8) My sister and my brother are so impolite, They don't talk with their mouths full and they don't even fight! When I yell out, "Food Fight", They say it's impolite! My sister and brother have no sense of humor, They just sit there with their mouths shut when I tell the best joke They just say ,"What a boring joke," and get excused from the table. I never saw such bad manners I think they are impolite! Radford Reflections by Declan Kehoe (aged 11) I sit on cold, hard, rough stone, looking out over Radford Stream, Surrounded by history from 500 years ago, where ancient legends lie, The sunlight breaking through the trees, making a golden haze, like a dream, Where Sir Walter Raleigh turned to flee, only to return and be doomed to die. Birds flying around, tweeting with glee, Swans gliding gracefully together, Everybody peaceful, as happy as can be, A squirrel darts up a tree, in speckled, grey fur. Water lapping gently, up against the bank, Feeling as though I have nothing to do except love the beauty of this place, Forests lying on the other side of the river, dark and dank, I wish I could take this feeling with me everywhere, in a tiny golden case. In a place full of legend, where the White Lady drowned to see her lover, Arches still in place from hundreds of years ago, Mysteries still to be unravelled, hiding undercover, Wanting to find the secrets, to find out, to discover, to know. So many legends remain to be found out, History lurks all around, everywhere, Legends linger, a place of peace, the secrets you could find out about, You can go there still, and stay all day, if you dare. The place I speak of, is standing strong, Against all odds, still beautiful to see, Choices have been made for right and wrong, If you go down, I'm you'll feel the same, as me! The Unicorn by Anna (aged 11) Mane the colour of churning foam or snow on a moonlit night, Like dandelion seed fluff as fine as cirrus in the morning light. Each eye like a stormy whirlpool in the dark, swirling sea, Her horn casts rainbow haloes which shimmer beautifully. Pearly coat of liquid silver like a glossy sheet of ice, White feathers at her cloven hooves as soft and quiet as mice. In the moonlight she gallops gracefully like a shadow on the sea, With softness, sweetness and purity, she looks across to me. Beach by Jamie Males (aged 10) The powerful angry waves crash their heavy fists upon me, Dumping flotsam, Leaving jetsam, On my sandy body, A strand of crimson seaweed lies, Forgotten on the rusty groyne, Ouch! As the strong spring tide scours me, It heaves a rounded lump, Of driftwood, From its devilish hands, A herring gull darts down to catch, A tiny crab, Its home a strip of rocks and pebbles, And channel wrack lies at my high tide mark, The stagnant reek of decomposing fish is unleashed, Grey wrinkly pebbles like elephant skin, Lie still on my flank, The scorching midday sun gleams happily, Reflecting from a network of channels, As a blinding beam, Tiny shells and huge stones rest in harmony, Jellyfish lie dead, Entangled in thick blue rope and fine twine, Marram grass leaps from my body, My ancient immortal body, Once more re-made by the sand cutting sea. Music, Bees and Children by Amy Kakoura (aged 12) As a baby she loved music. As a bee to the flower, she stuck to it and collected it Into the tiny mind just born. As a toddler she loved music As the bee drinks in the sweet taste at the bottom of the flower, She reached into the deepest corners of the melody And drank it down deep. As a child she loved music As a bee takes off, pleased at the load it carries, So she took off, and made her mind take wing With the music that filled her soul. As a woman she loved music And as a bee takes the sweet nectar back to the hive to make into honey, So she made her own strings with dewdrops of sound That turned into storms and whirlpools of music and webs of silver she spun with her words And as she grew old, she loved music But as the bee flies away from its hive, once again, weedy in the absence of its nectar, So she wandered from her mind and forgot her music. In the plague of the blackness of ill, she died. And with it died her song. The Light of the World by Flor Orellana Darkness and no light, What am I going to do? I can't find my soul. The Silent Prayer by Xiao ou Li (aged 12) When the world below silenced, When the light of the day was no more. When the sorrows of night, Were freed from the heart. Alone at the mid of night, When the mind is free. I pray a silent prayer, For all those out at sea. I pray for courage for those who seek, And may happiness replace grief. May peace stay forever with us, And please take harm away. One day we shall live in harmony, And our King will rule in justice. The dark clouds of the night gone, And the bright moonlight will shine. Scream! by Jake Brownlee (aged 9) Are you scared in a dark room as the shadows move along the wall? Do you run when you see the dentist's chair? Do you jump when the lightning hits and the thunder roars? Are you full of fear when you meet a snapping, snarling dog? What do you feel like when you swim in the sea and a shark comes along with teeth clashing? Are you scared? I Am by James Dennington (aged 9) I am intelligent and brave I wonder how a bird flies I hear thunder booming I see flames raging I am intelligent and brave I pretend that I am a warrior I feel the world spinning I touch a blue lightning bolt I worry when my dog chases squirrels I cry when someone dies I am intelligent and brave I understand friendship to be more important than power I say bad things never prevail I dream about world peace I try to make plays in baseball I hope that I get my college diploma I am intelligent and brave The Gun by Lucie (aged 12) The gun was the suspect this time Not the man who was jailed for life That one mistake YOU made Takes away someone's life You didn't see it coming did you? You didn't think before you thought, Now Look What You've Done I've tossed the coins, You always won I had the talent You had the praise, Look where you are now Holding the gun against my head, I'm praying that my sons don't find me dead I hoped you'd find your sense But you didn't I'm lying amongst red roses With a lie holding on to me. War by Rachael Campbell (aged 12) The wind whispers to itself Telling tales of things best forgot, Tales of war that've scared the land When swords clashed and bow shot. The scent of blood still fouls the air Bones are scattered far and wide, The earth is dry, yet here and there Are lakes and ponds where widows cried. Names are forgotten, men are lost Families torn and friends long gone, The dead can never be replaced The wind sighs sadly and moves on. The Winter Storm by Luke Gallagher (aged 8) Colossal waves are splashing with anger, The rocks are rising from their positions, Sparkling lightning strikes the sea. The white horses are surfing the blue foamy sea, The waves are lashing out, causing a tidal wave. The seagulls can't fish, the sea is attacking them. In the morning. The glistening icicles on hard rocks are reflecting the blazing sunlight, Everything is calm, nobody is harmed, Everyone is helping to clean up the flood. The sun has set. Time by Angie Kwong (aged 12) Gaze through mists of voices and conversations The distance between money and treasures Landscapes of boarded up houses Stray cats road the dim lighted skies Dreams shatter and collide with nightmares Time against my thoughts as the wind Blows them right past my empty head I stand still and watch time pass over Buses drive past, people rushing to work Plain chaos The wind blows and the city becomes silent The rain of sadness returns once again Dancer in the Street by Kimberley Johnson (aged 12) Dancer in the street Leaping to and fro Spinning like a whirlwind Graceful as a doe Head held high With a shining face Heels clicking merrily with no disgrace Feet stamping On the ground Her dress spinning all around Her hips move to the beat Hair bouncing up and down Head nods softly as she listens to the sound She's beautiful and strong Spinning round and round This dancer in the street is of visions in my head, My link to her in this distant world is as fragile as a thread I long for her to come alive and dance along the road My heart's amiss I'll let you know But I can't ignore these feelings I can't leave untold I cling to her day by day As her image eases away I want her happiness I want her glee She's so secure and content with the world She has found herself Her pride and joy When others must put all hope in the Lord I wish to feel her happiness and I long for much more But I must feel fulfilled I have so much It's that inner core that I need Perhaps I will find it someday or somehow When I stumble along destiny's path When I struggle with my own wrath But as for now in this overwhelming emptiness I must confide in friends around me For they are the ones that will help me most To guide my constant dreaming At first when I see this girl I feel a surge of envy But then I think could this girl Be a secret part of me? Dwellings by Kimberley Johnson (aged 12) A haunted house creaks Wind whistles through the shutters Ancient souls howl Happiness by Hannah Fletcher (aged 8) Happiness is gold It tastes like a roast dinner And smells like flowers Happiness looks like a snow covered mountain And sounds like laughter Happiness feels like my big, soft, cuddly teddy Winter Storm by Amelia Stark (aged 12) Wild, dancing trees take the wind as their partner Instantly the world is whiter than pure sunlight, Bright, yet dreary, flurrying now. The storm that has passed is only a distant memory in our minds The bitter cold brings birds humming their merry song, No coyotes humming their lonely ballad Only the eerie silence of winter, The incandescent glow of moonshine through the glistening trees Rolling, tumbling, over mountains of ice and snow, trying to make it home. Suddenly, out of the silence a bird chirps Dawn breaks through the darkness at last sunlight streams down through the clouds And touches the icy trees, making them shimmer and dance. The forest is alive with renewed life - Royal blue is the color of the never-ending sky, Always just out of reach. Ocean by Ashley (aged 12) Blue, green, and gray. Silvery smooth on good days. Restless and unable to choose, Good or bad, What do I do? Starting choppy, Growing large and wide. Giant gray waves loom ahead, Forming a white foamy top Crash! Water engulfs me totally, Soaked down to the bone, Laughing, Screaming, Happiness in the air, Always there. Calm and smooth like green, blue glass. Gliding through the water easily, In my tiny skiff. I wish I could be As calm as the ocean around me I Am... by Talia Strait (aged 11) I am a slave brought from Africa. I am an explorer looking for gold. I am a Pilgrim on the Mayflower. I am a stowaway in the hold. I am the artist of Mona Lisa. I am the writer of Fur Elise. I am the author of Moby Dick. I am the soul of Matisse. I am an orange butterfly emerging. I am a beautiful bird flying. I am a masked raccoon foraging. I am a little kitten crying. I am an artist. I am a writer. I am a player. I am a fighter. I am a friend. I am an aid. I am a queen. I am a maid. I am me. Seven by Eight by Max Fink (aged 8) Seven was heaven. No chores, nothing. But now that I'm 8 It's different. It's still great to be 8. Piano by Benjamin Gajus (aged 9) The hands fluttering up and down The hand is in rhythm with the soft slow music Is the music soft? Is the music dull? The music is as beautiful as a humming bird singing its song. Why is this instrument so beautiful? The never-stop side to side flow is so graceful. Softer, softer, softer. To Me The World Means... by Talia Strait (aged 11) To me the world means places to go, People to meet, Things to know. To me the world means goals to reach, People to love, Someone to teach. To me the world means things to see, Things to do, Someone to be. To me the world means animals to see, Friends to make, Just being me! Goodbye Goldy by Kathy (aged 12) Goodbye Goldy you were such a faithful fish, if only you were still alive... if only, I wish... As I watch you circle down the loo, I say Goodbye Goldy, Goodbye to you... Mother? What are you holding? What's that you say? You've bought me a puppy? A puppy to stay? Oh, come on, dear doggy, let's go and play... Goldy was just a stupid fish anyway... Would you like to zoom back to the top?