The Treasure Chest The pick of the best poems from June - Dec 2003. Is This Real? by Sarah Fleming (aged 12) He gets rushed to hospital over a stomach ache. Is this real? I see him trying to walk but with difficulty after two months. Is this real? I start to wonder whether he believes what's going on, Whether he thinks, 'Is this real?' Then after a long ponder I realise, This is real. But why? Why would this happen to someone who I think is a BFG? Then I realise - life is real and unless you live it to the full you'll always wonder. Is this real? Snow Haiku by Amber-Louise O'Brien Snow is really soft, It seems to fall forever Will it ever stop? Someone Who Is Not Me by Amanda Brown (aged 11) My mom likes someone who is Neat and clean My dad likes someone who Likes to read My brother likes someone who Listens to him and lets him be mean My teachers like someone who Listens and tries their best Those all describe someone. Someone who is not me The Song Poem by Christine Pollard (age 11) Awakening in the morning, as the sun slowly rises, Seeing the swans glide across the sparkling lake, With its graceful ripple, wakening the water on its way. Hearing all the birds chatting to each other, As cheerful as rosy cheeks and as beautiful as nightingales. Zooming at full pelt towards the water, the prey has just come up for some air, Gone! Whacked! Killed! Whilst young squawking chicks are crying out for food, Dying of starvation and lonely like the vulture up above. Playful young rabbits, bouncing and thudding, Through forests and meadows. When the lambs are joining in and having lots of fun. The dreaming sensation starts to appear, very slowly but sudden, And lullabies are spread around until silence creeps over. Dreams are being dreamt by the younger ones, And birds perch on the highest branch to watch the sunset glow. All is silent, except the splash of the lake, But even that falls asleep, eyes drooping, Drooping, Silence. Peace by Hamdi, Hiba and Patryk Peace is a book ready to be opened. Peace is a heart waiting to be loved. Peace is the sun waiting to go up. Peace is a room full of frowning people waiting to smile. Peace is a balloon waiting to be inflated. Peace is a bird learning to fly. Peace is a flower waiting to open. My Winter Love by Annie Handrick (aged 9) The snow is falling like sprinkles in the sky. The snow lands on my nose to sleep then disappears like magic. The air is cold and breezy. I shiver as the snow licks my frosty face. I try to imagine that it's summer but the icy wind interrupts my mind. I hear my Mom calling me, she says it time to come in and have hot chocolate, so I rush inside and cuddle by the fire and put a blanket on me and I say, "This has been the best winter ever." Sadness by Julie Sylvestre (aged 11) Sadness is like darkness when you need light. It feels like there never will be light again. You want to open your eyes so you will see where you go, but they're already open. Trying to find the switch but it's not there. Trying to light a candle without a match. Wandering around, waiting for the light. Searching for someone in the dark. You cry black tears of depression. Someday you will find the light. I Am by Brianna Sammons (aged 12) I am a musician who... wonders what my life will be like when I'm sixty hears the music notes swaying through my head sees my troubles floating away from me into the dark starry sky wants to become the world's best doctor pretends that I am saving peoples lives feels the weight of my brothers and sister on my shoulders touches the keys that unlock the door to happiness worries that I will not be able to save everyone of my patients cries for the people that are less fortunate than me I am a musician who..... understands that even though I want everything to be perfect it can't says that everyone should be treated equally dreams about sailing into space at tremendous speeds tries to include everyone in games that I am playing hopes that the people of this world will learn to be friends instead of fighting I am a musician who.... From Darkness to Dawn by Zara Al-Faham (aged 11) The taste of dawn is quiet but sweet, One moment in time which could last forever more. The texture of mist is wet, soft and cool upon your skin, Mysterious objects lurk through its vast nothingness. The texture of bird song flows through your body, Smooth, beautiful and radiant are its notes The sound of grass is wispy, Quiet and meaningful to the ear. The taste of a storm is striking, Beating down into your throat. The feel of darkness is deep, Petrifying and unknown. Senses Poem by Ellie Rapaport (aged 12) The taste of fear, inside the sweltering dark hole, beating faster and faster and just can't stop. The absence of being, butterflies fluttering about inside you. The feel of darkness, searching for the one switch that would change the room. The nervousness, as she looks for the horrific damage left by the burglar. The sound of grass, as it waves about, blown over by the forceful wind. The sound of chewing, made by the cows, gazing in the humongous fields. The texture of a birdsong, as it hums softly in the colossal oak trees. The scent of silence, mild yet cold, as if on your own. Such loneliness, with thoughts set upon us. The smell of happiness, of friendship & sharing with one another, laughing, playing, sharing. A Life On Strings by Holly Bee (aged 10) Limbs so limp until lifted by master, Voice unheard until spoken by caster, Forever inside you a terrible fear, Of eternal control from a cruel puppeteer, Always on entertainment, theatre and shows And when it will stop, nobody knows. But when the fun's over you're thrown in a cage And all up inside you boils sadness and rage, You try to call for somebody's aid But it is of wood that your limp body's made, And so you sit there, scared and alone Hoping one day that you can go home, Oh all these horrible, horrible things How terrible it is, this life on strings. Eat Me! by Hannah Solomons (aged 11) Hold me with your shaky hands, Stare at me with your gleaming eyes. Open me! Eat me! Let me melt on your tongue, Take off your shining jumper, Try without making a rip. There's an untouched diamond waiting, To run down your throat, so smooth. Touch my cold brown skin with your lips, Without even losing a crumb. The magic will overtake you, Just to take a bite. For my smooth, creamy texture, To ripple down your throat. I'm resting right underneath your eyes, Just look down and take a glance, And I will invade your mind. You know you want me, You're staring right at me, Eat Me! Once I Was a little oak Tree standing still and tall. I saw a little boy coming Along drinking Coca-Cola All day long. When he finished He threw the can at me. The can bounced Off of me and into the stream."You Polluted The water," said I. Oak Tree by Turon Jackson (aged 11) Senses by Dhara Shah (aged 12) The feel of darkness is shivery and cold, Like you're inside a nightmare, The texture of mist hides in a charming disguise, Just like a trap, a snare. The taste of sadness is dry and bare, Nothing cheery of bright, The scent of silence is nothing, Pure, brilliant, white. The sound of a rose is passion in your heart, As you wear your team's strip, The taste of dawn is sweet sugar, On raspberry lips. Pink is….by Charlotte Bailey (aged 11) Pink is the marshmallow pillow perched on my bed, Precious, delicate too perfect to touch There's a Shepherd's delight when there is a pink sky at night Little wriggling pink fingers and toes Tiny pink noses sniff and splutter Strawberries, Turkish delight conceal their pink centre As if they were ashamed. Pink is the lacy gown the princess always wears as she kisses the prince in their dream world. Pink is the colour that creeps up your cheek And makes you feel hot and flustered, Pink is the ribbon worn by women Pink is the colour that's most desired. Pink are the claws scratching the neck. Pink are the toes vaguely seen from under the tights. Pink is a dreamy wonderland, just waiting to be revealed Senses by Hannah Solomons (aged 11) The feel of darkness is the emptiness of a blind man's life, Whilst feeling his way along the street. The sight of darkness is the doom between heaven and earth, The blank space of eternity. The sound of fear is when you hear continuous footsteps following you, When you're walking home late from the bus stop. The sight of fear is the shadow behind your curtains at night, Of a mysterious man rattling on your window. The texture of mist is the absence of life, Gradually swallowing the frosty land. The taste of mist is the bland, frozen sheet, As it cuts through your tongue like ice. The sound of a storm is of a whirlpool of leaves, Snatching earth and soil into the cloudy air, The senses of a storm are to hazardous to control, Like your senses have no signal at all! Red by Lidia Valdes (aged 11) Red is the colour of love and hate Of destiny and fate And Remembrance Red if the colour of bloodshed Of deaths and of the dead And Remembrance Red is the colour of stress Of forgiveness and distress And Remembrance Red is the colour of risk-taking Of braveness and Life staking And Remembrance Red is the colour of the brave Of the grave And Remembrance Red is the colour of poppies Red is Remembrance What is Black? by Natasha Jacob (aged 12) Black is the universe, It is the deepest darkest thought in your mind, It is the gateway to your dreams or to your nightmares, It's a world, where you are blind. Black is the smell of burnt toast, And hard treacle toffee. It's the feeling of being trapped and empty. It is fear stalking you. Black is a lump of coal, It's the day of the eclipse, And shiny black shoes. Black is the sound of despair and of thunder booming on a stormy night. How I See It by Neha Natasha Passi (age 12) The feel of darkness terrifies me, sends a shiver down my spine. The shadows at nightfall and the shadiness of mankind. Has humanity gone into obscurity? The taste of sadness eats away at my mind. Its poignancy gives me a lump in my throat. The taste of dawn is crisp and fresh. Gleaming daylight creeps through windows enlightening everywhere with peace and warmth. As the sun rises once again, dawn marks a fresh start. The texture of birdsong is sweet and childlike. A melody so amiable, tenderly calling you back from your dreams. It's back to reality like a rebirth. The sound of a rose is romantically rousing. Whispering love notes and pounding heartbeats. Exceedingly provocative it is tenderly innocent. The scent of silence has the aroma of stillness. It breathes life in the quietness of nature. The presence of life in its various forms, are the testers of this scent of silence. Black by Zara Al-Faham Black was the one thing there At the beginning The forever ink stain upon your favourite top. Black is the absence of something The emptiness, the quietness In the shadowed corners that have long been forgotten The black rose lying upon a deathbed It is everywhere The bottom of the ocean The earth's enriched soil The feeling of knowing there's something you're missing Such as the climax of your nightmare The blank screen of a television set The feeling down your spine when a stranger looks at you in a peculiar way The unknown objects that are lurking in the forest The burnt leftovers of a once great fire Black will still be there when All else has ended In a Moment of Silence by Avinash Patel (aged 7) In a moment of silence, I heard my mum kick herself out of bed. I heard her beating herself downstairs. I heard her smacking herself into the kitchen. In a moment of silence, I heard the radio killing the speakers of its sound. I heard our budgie signaling to her. In a moment of silence I heard crackling cups. I heard Pokemon cards falling down to their death. I heard people breathing. In a moment of silence, I heard my brain wanting to go on the computer. So I got up and went on it. The Most Important Rap by Ben (based on the poem by Roger Stevens) I am a builder and I'll tell you why 'Cause I built your house and that's not a lie If I weren't here then where would you live? Not a hotel or with a relative I'm not a bird and I'm not a deer but I'll tell you what I am - The most important person here. Hats by Jared Peysner (aged 8) Big hats, Small hats, Red hats, More and more hats, Yellow hats, Green hats, Orange hats, Purple hats, Blue hats, Pink hats, Brown hats, How many hats in the world are there? Black hats, White hats, Silver hats, Gold hats, Peach hats, Lovely hats, Horrible hats, Are there really thousands of hats in the world! Alone by Jennifer Gourlay (aged 11) I am alone in my bed As I rock myself to sleep I am alone in the class As I daydream far away I am alone in the park As I swing myself higher and higher I am alone in my room As I write this poem here and now. WAR GAMES (When war is not a game at all) War Game by Hannah De Frond (aged 11) In soggy trenches soldiers hide, Just like reserves at the side, They shoot and tackle then attack, Being careful not to get shot in the back! This is a war game. Distraught and frightened they defend, Anxiously waiting for the end, They are shattered but keep moving along, To win the war and live on and on, This is a war game. This match is getting out of hand, It's surprisingly brave but there they stand, Ready to quarrel yet again, And help each other survive the pain, That was a war game. 1914 by Kirsty Simcoe (aged 10) Water flooded both the trenches, Attacking enemies through and through, Real war real death real lives are lost. Gerry fires bullets over, Tommy fires them back, And when the war is over less than half the soldiers go home Mothers cry as their children die, End of the war is here War Games by Anthony Downes (aged 11) Weeping Wives, Attacking over Flanders Fields Red poppies marking lives. Gun shells making holes in the ground, Aching hearts Making lives miserable Excitement raging across the city Sad wives weeping all day Blue by Adil S.L. (aged 12) Blue is the chill of a winter's morning, The hoot of an owl at night. Blue is the cool taste of water upon your tongue. Blue is a running stream, and sadness, The warm light of a summer's sky. Blue is the ocean, mighty and free. Blue is on the pen stained fingers of a child, In the spray of a waterfall. Blue holds life within a glittering fish, Frolics in flowery fields, And lends itself to a scorching flame. Blue is the music in a singer's soul, A sapphire ring in a window. A full flowering jacaranda is blue, too. Blue is cool and smooth, Blue is sour sweet. Blue is a sleepy child. This poem is, Blue. Ocean by Jennifer Pearlman (aged 12) The earth is mostly water, And not because of rain. To some it may bring laughter: To some it may bring pain. The ocean is another world: It gives me wings to fly. The ocean is like home to me. It's an upside-down sky. The fish are all the pretty stars. The coral is the moon. And where it's so dark underneath, It's like a sandy dune. A shark is like a bumble-bee, Peaceful if not bothered. If you are so very quiet, You can still be heard. I would just give anything, I would even die. Just to be by my home all day, The turned upside-down sky. Underwater Melody by Katherine Garnham (aged 12) There once was a women from Cuba Who loved to play the tuba She played every day And when she was away She took it to help her scuba If I Were a Bird by Amber Doran (aged 12) How lovely it would be to fly like birds and sing beautiful songs that didn't have words. To eat worms raw and live in a nest. And if I were a bird, I'd be one of the best! Grey by Anna Butterss (12) and Cherilyn White (13) Grey is the drone of a boring lecturer Grey is the blandness of stale bread Grey is the fog on the barrow downs Grey is emptiness and loneliness The feeling of being unwanted Grey is bitter Grey is an empty shell The mud at the bottom of the lake Grey is a bloated slug Grey is soundless Settled dust Dull steel Dim light A rainy day Neutral Grey is tasteless, hard and cold The colour of a stray cat Grey is unclear It is not black, nor white, It is grey Haiku by Katherine Garnham (aged 12) Looking into space Not watching where I'm walking Ouch that really hurt Footy by Cherilyn and Nina (aged 12) We like footy The mud up your legs all squishy and wet The bounce of the ball where the rucks fists met The kick of the ball up to fifty from goal The mark of the day ends up in a roll The gigantic kicks over full forwards heads The scores six to zero we left them for dead The sweat up your arms, we watch our scores climb The siren sounds, now it's half time The coach lectures us on how we should play The positions we're in for the rest of the day The team comes on the field refreshed and restored The third quarter starts we won't be so bored Any opponent will be beaten and bashed Our team's the best we'll never be thrashed We like footy Black by Jason W & Alex B (aged 12) Black is an ugly decaying tooth, The ashes a fire leaves, and the remains of a scary pirate ship Black is death and carnage, and half eaten rotten corpses. Black is a raven's eerie call. Black is hatred and anger, It's betrayal, lies and deceit, And the colour of screeching bats. Black is the colour of a witch's warts, and Dracula's dark leather cape. Black is a zombie rising from the grave And the scream of an angry owl Black is the colour of fear and danger. Black is the colour of rain clouds, And also the pain in hell. Black is the colour of the night. R.I.P. Bob by Sarah-Lynn Robinson (aged 12) Here lies my friend Bob, It was the first store he tried to rob. And I guess it's too bad, and too late to say, The gun should have been pointing the other way. Limerick by Jedda Stocks-Ramsay (aged 12) There was a sweet girl from Bombay, Whose dress was terribly frayed. She was so depressed, about her poor dress. She had it completely remade. War Game by Jack Eldridge Win, lose, draw - it's just a game of sins, Afterwards you hope you've won, Rules are always broken. Gunners wait inside the trenches, Always shooting at us, Maybe we can take them down, Everybody loses. Caterpillar Limerick by Sarah-Lynn Robinson (aged 12) There once was a caterpillar named Fern. She was naughty, mean, and never waited her turn. She was often mad, And always bad, 'Till she got in trouble, and finally learned! Leaf by Rebecca Ireland (aged 11) I blossomed for a reason, I had a purpose To breath To have sunlight play upon me Now… my coat once glossy and proud, has fire flames licking the edges. I lie here my skeleton rusting… Brown, yellow… hardening I won't be missed. Twig by Rebecca Ireland (aged 11) I'm getting wrinkly and old Grey is my colour but once Brown and gold. I grew at the end of winter And lasted throughout the summer No one can draw me I change when I'm dead However, I've always been…. As thin as a … The Busker by Maria English (aged 12) He sits on the sidewalk as the world hurries by, A faraway look in his deep, ancient eyes His money cap empty, his mind blanketed in grey, He shudders at memories of bygone days. Memories of detestation, division, despair, The ceaseless haunt of the deepest, darkest fear The sound of the child's cry that pierces the night The silence of the battlefield at morning's first light The smiling face of death, the empty laughter of lonely pain Sorrowful, distressed love for those who may never be seen again. Endless days of torture, anxiety and loss. Dirty, lifeless body beneath clean, white cross. The charred, broken soil, trampled and churned Sorrow for those who never returned. But beneath all, in the heart's very depths Lies a flame and a hope which are carried on yet. And so the busker sits as the world hurries by, His mind faraway in the pain and the lies And then he stirs, and wipes a tear from his face as he sees A small gold coin in the cap on his knee. Water by Lauren Reed (aged 9) Water in the waterfall Water in the rain Water in the river and Water on the plain Water on the plants Water on the trees Water on the rooftops and Water on your knees Water in the puddle Water in the sea Water in the jelly and Water in my tea Water on the window Water on the leaves Water on the cars and Water on me! First Day of School by Abigail Jones (aged 11) First day of school, oh how I pray, to enjoy the day. Mum gave me my brunch, but I can't eat 'til lunch. My first school day, all I'll probably do is play with clay. Mum's just round the corner - I can run home any day. But I think I'll just have to get through my first day of school anyway My Home Will Always Be Africa by Sade-Louise Fergus (aged 8) I see the hot colourful African sky; the colours light up all around us, The sky is getting more beautiful as I look, I see the ever-swaying dandelions, all different flowers, too. I see the big golden sun that lights up the morning and evening skies. I hear the neighing of the zebra, I hear the scary roar of the lions, I hear the gentle breeze that makes my clothes blow to and fro. I smell the hot African breeze, the gentleness of fresh air, I smell the cooking of the villages around me, I smell the beautiful flowers; they have a lovely scent, I taste the sweet ripe mangos, I taste the juicy water of the coconuts, I taste the bitter dust as I walk along the ground. I feel the hotness of Africa in my body, I feel the safety of African in my hear, I feel my mum's soft lips kiss me and I know this is my home. Stop Victim's Tears by Ross Patterson (aged 12) Bullying means ... Nasty words that make you angry A deep red scratch on a horrified face An aggressive push behind toilet doors Shouting for help when there's no one around A very hard slap on a puzzled face A powerful spit splashing on a blazer Bullying means ... A cowardly kick from behind Bedtime sobs that keep you awake Sparkling tears moving slowly down your cheeks Whispered swear words at the back of a class Frightening secrets told… some… weeks… later The Unicorn by Kate Scope (written when she was 11) Streaking through the forest like a firefly in the night, Pure, beautiful, loyal and bright, Defenceless as she is, her magic holds no key, In the midst of the forest, far from the sea, The Unicorn stands, just and unseen, The forest starts to wake, the night has been What Is the Night? by Amy (aged 7) What is the night? A magician's cloak billowing, covering the earth in darkness. What is the moon? A scoop of ice cream melting through the years. What is a snowflake? A swan's feather swirling and brushing my face gently. What is the sun? A huge eye staring crossly at the world with its burning gaze. What are the stars? Sparkling glitter dropped by God from the high heavens. Harvest by Hermione Cameron (aged 10) The strong wind blows an icy breath And calls to the field of gold. The ground is covered in a rich golden blanket Of fully-grown clouds of wheat. Fresh, luscious smells waft through the air, My mouth is watering fast. The barley whistles, the wheat starts to dance, The magic of harvest is near. Tumbling down from gnarled, spiky trees, The leaves are like fiery flames. Now that autumn has come, They litter the fields with their power. Hay bales stand like majestic kings, Ruling over everywhere. When I gaze at the scene the view is perfect: The magic of harvest has begun. Stars, Moon and Sun by Robyn Hunt (aged 12) I went to the Poetry Zone Hoping to have some fun Thought I'd send in a poem About the stars, moon, and sun So here it is - listen up well I'll write you a poem that's really swell The sun, as you know Is extremely hot Cool as the Arctic It's certainly not It rises at dawn to create day Stay it does not, to our dismay You might have figured The moon's made of cheese But I know it's not I'll explain, if you please The moon, I am 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 huge in size And greater in mass Stars have been named things like Polaris A shooting star is a thing not to miss! This is my poem That's it, the end Now I must click The button called 'Send' Fairytale Enchantment by Jahleel Bonaobra (aged 11) Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty The seven dwarves and dear Snow White Jasmine and Aladdin on a magic carpet flight These fairytales enchant us so and yet we don't know why It's because that deep inside of us, a child reads and sighs It remembers when we were still young, and begged to hear these fantasies And how we dreamed of castle life And thought inside that could've been me It recalls when we spent hours acting out our favourite parts... This is why they enchant us so, because we're all just a child at heart Goldilocks and the three bears Rapunzel and her long blond hair These tales help us remember, and give us hope to dream About servants and castles, jewels that gleam These stories can transport us back, to when we understood Those fairytales that still enchant us... Those fairytales from our childhood Beautiful Day by Katie Cuthbert (aged 9) The rain fell quickly on the ground It seemed to dance and twirl around The thunder cracked, the lightning flew to show us what it could do The rain splashed in puddles and laughed and played In this storm color parade And then it ceased and the sun shone through On this beautiful afternoon What Is Your Age? by Rebecca Kaiserman (aged 9) I am so glad it is your birthday And not mine You have had such a little number of parties After all You are only turning… What is your age again? Oh yeah! 900,999 Poetry is the Best by Elissa G. (aged 8) You can write it, you can type it. It can make you feel happy It can make you feel sad. You can feel it, you can see it You can taste it, you can hear it and you can smell it. This is the sad part - The poem must end. Dog by Ben Holmes There was a young girl called Maggie Whose dog was enormous and shaggy. The front end of him Looked vicious and grim But the back end was friendly and waggy. It's Not Me! by Andrea Racz (aged 12) I have things to do I do them everyday - just not right away. I watch T.V. then make my mother tea See? it's not me! I clean sometimes, then listen to music Is that a crime? See? it's not me! Sure I did a couple of things, left on a light My brothers and I got into one silly fight I always get blamed, that's not right See? it's not me! Well, I should do my chores like vacuum the floor, clean my room and do it soon! Maybe I should fix the lamp I broke after all it is brand new and maybe the stains on the wall was my fault... just like the dent in the wall And the rip in the screens...that was me that wasn't a pretty sight I guess I'm not too bright I did break the gift from California but it was free! Okay. Fine! …It is me! I'd Rather Be… by Helena Francis (aged 8) I'd rather be a shark than a little fish. I'd rather be in a pot than a small dish. I'd rather start than finish. I'd rather appear than vanish. I'd rather be clever than rubbish. I'd rather be rewarded than punished. I'd rather be disgusting than delicious. I'd rather build than demolish. I'd rather be alive than perish. I'd rather eat than be famished. I'd rather be nice than vicious. Tibet by Jessica Speckart (aged 7) Tibet was a free country. Icy and high, Banished from freedom. Enlightened beings are born, Tranquil and peace they long for. Everstone by Miranda Jones (aged 11) High above the clouds and blue, Past the land of Tardenview, Three days drive from Hollondon, If you move with the setting sun, The morning glories will all bloom, In a path that has just enough room, For someone who is pure of heart, Just like the Red Sea's part, Through a forest with many frogs, That when they croak they sound like dogs, Past many dragons who will fly, Past many people who have died, Over a mountain with no tip, I must say it's quite a trip, Through a land that always snows, In a field with many crows, To a gate where fears may hide, Only discovered with the passing tide, All of this with a moan, Just to get to Everstone. Another Go by Rachel Perkins (aged 12) oh no, oh help I'm almost 1. my goo, goo and ga, ga is almost gone. oh no, oh help I'm almost 2. my mum and dad make me go moo, moo, moo. oh no, oh help I'm almost 3. I'm being forced to sit on a potty and wee. oh no, oh help I'm almost 4. mum and dad take me down to the sea shore. oh no, oh help I'm almost 5. I'm going to school, do you think I'll survive? oh no, oh help I'm almost 6. a bully at school has stolen my Twix. oh no, oh help I'm almost 7. I just met a boy, and I think I'm in heaven. oh no, oh help I'm almost 8. I wait for the boy on the old school gate. oh no, oh help I'm almost 9. I got my first detention for saying, "That's mine." oh no, oh help I'm almost 10. I wish I could start life all over again. Just One Drop Of Courage by Nicole B. Bernardo (aged 9) Just one drop of courage, Mother, Just one drop. Let it drop for all the soldiers Just let it drop for wars Just let it drop for victory and peace Oh, let it drop Mother. Brothers and sisters don't let your tears cease In the harsh and cruel times, We will make it through So, you can let go. For somewhere here in the cruel times Hope will follow us behind. Who is She? by Isabelle Woods (aged 8) This person is a lamp shade She is a disco ball shining through the night She is as fast as a speeding bullet She is as soft as a new-born puppy Her eyes twinkle shining bright Who is she? Lotus by Jessica (aged 7) Lotus, lotus How beautiful you are! You live in muddy water. But not a single drop of mud is on you. Your smooth white petals almost glow in the dark. Lotus, lotus How beautiful you are! Poetry Is by Zoe (aged 11) Poetry is a song of words like a group of birds flying freely. If the rhyming words separate from the birds you can write poetry easily. The Sunlight Drove Me Dead by Amy Alder (aged 11) As I woke up in the morning The sunlight drove me dead It brought me to a deep-freeze and suddenly turned to red As I woke up in the morning The sunlight drove me dead All the people in my street Shouted oh lord what a heat Inside by Julia Howell (aged 10) There is a puppy inside me who is happy, he jumps and plays about all day long. There is a dolphin doing synchronized swimming round and round my body, whirling and twirling. There is a parrot speaking English, reciting poems by Shakespeare. Inside me there is a hamster sleeping soundly, curling up into a ball to keep warm. He doesn't make a noise. There is a beaver biting her nails for all she is worth. Chewing with her long teeth. There is a goose inside me who is a loyal pal but keeps her real best friend close to her heart. Outside by Hannah Manns (age 7) It is beautiful outside and the snow isn't even cold. The trees smell like peppermint and I've never seen a sky so blue. Witches Pocket by Leah Dickison (aged 12) She had green warty skin, And oniony breath, She was not at all thin, And she looked like death! She was always so cross, She'd eat dead rats for tea, She was her own boss, She scared everyone, (even me!) But what really scared people, Was no other than this - It made brave people feeble, Her pocket would hiss! People would wonder, Well what's in there then, But now there's no need to ponder, Because I know - so don't ask again! In a Witches Pocket (Part Two) by Leah Dickison (aged 12) A witch has in her pocket . Three pages of Derek Smith's guide of how to scare people, Her mini cauldron (In case of emergencies!) A voodoo doll of her worst enemy (minus a few chunks of hair!), A stress ball for those tense moments, Four fresh rats (wrapped in greaseproof paper!), Tina Whitley's guide to controlling temper, A mysterious box containing bright make-up (given to her by a friend), A handkerchief with coffee stains on it, Breath freshening dental gum (prescribed by her dentist three years ago!), A free packet of herbal essences shampoo, A packet of concealer (not yet open!), A big black cat (that explains the hissing!), And .....you don't want to know what else is in there! Don't Understand by Charlotte King (aged 10) I felt a little overdone, when the words came out, I felt a little caged at first, unable to run. I felt like running far away, away from my thoughts and head. All I wanted to hear just then was the words taken back. I never really understood, my feeling's came all at once. I wanted it to never happen, to lock away the words. I wanted it to be a dream, my thoughts all unreal, But it wasn't, I knew it wasn't, but I wish they just weren't real. But in another sense I sort of understood a bit from my thoughts, I don't know, I can't understand, I feel like all the time that I'm on command. Long Lasting by Callum Smith (aged 9) My head, my heart, my fingers, my toes, my knees, my nose, this is my body, which should last for a very long time, because I'm only nine. Guess Who? by Thomas Readshaw (aged 8) This person is a gigantic alpine chair. This person is a quick, speedy cheetah. He is a red ruby with a green outline. He is an extremely tall ladder. He is a rainbow with a cool breeze. He is a Christmas tree looking at baubles. He is 6:00am settled person. He is the Manchester United Football ground. The Deep Blue Sea by Timothy Robert Kyle James (aged 9) Standing on top of a tall, white cliff Looking out to sea Where the sea creatures thrive And the gulls dive out on the deep blue sea On the shore the white horses gallop Back to their sandy stables Out on the sea the seals play For all the day whales shower from their spouts Out on a boat a whirlpool spins the seas Down on the sea bed like an alien garden The conger eels swim and the fish glimmer The water shimmers and the currents are calm A coral world A sea world All in a deep blue sea My Ghost Train Alphabet Poem by Holly Woodham (aged 11) A is for Aliens sat on the ground, B is for Bats Flying around. C is for Cobwebs stuck to your face, D is for Dracula having a race. E is for Echoes as loud as can be, F is for Frankenstein staring at me! G is for Ghosts fooling around, H is for House that fell to the ground. I is for Imagination running wild, J is for Joker who happily smiles. K is for Knives being thrown at the wall, L is for Lights making shadows tall. M is for Monsters roaring out loud, N is for Nightmares spreading around. O is for Owls that screech in the night, P is for Pirates shining a light. Q is for Queer noises that seem far away, R is for Rats wanting to stay. S is for Skeletons rattling about, T is for Terror in huge amounts. U is for Ugly faces popping up, V is for Vampires drinking blood from a cup. W is for Witches flying in the night, X is for X-rays glowing luminous bright. Y is for Yeti which let out a howl, Z is for Zombie making a row! Somewhere In The Darkness by Andrea (aged 12) A child cries for food Somewhere in the darkness… A wolf howls at the radiant moon Somewhere in the darkness… People plea for their life Somewhere in the darkness… A tide is ripped by the moon Somewhere in the darkness… A life is solemnly lost Somewhere in the darkness… Vivid rain pours down from the ominous sky Somewhere in the darkness… The world is drowning Drowning in the darkness… The Queen of Winter by Shannon Cuthbert (aged 11) Winds stir the trees, ragged with the paint splattered leaves. Nimble dancers catch the wind, falling and twirling. Jewels of dew hide in the grass, each blade now a beautiful Scepter for the Queen of Winter. Sunset comes with golden clouds and the sky painted with Rosy shades from a paint box. Night dances along on light feet, spreading bits of golden paint across the sky for the Queen. The sun appears, laying out a royal carpet of light for the Queen. Here she is, the lovely Queen of Winter, a delicate snowflake. And she swoops along, covering the world in frost. Gossip by Morgan B. (aged 12) Gossip spreads like a wild fire Shatters like glass May be forgotten But always, somehow, remembered Looks like a weasel Sounds like a fly Attacks with its great jaws Engulfs you - crushes you You are guilty, I am guilty, we are all guilty Of ruining someone, hurting someone Ripping apart someone's hopes - dreams We ripped them apart at the seams. A heavy rock on your chest Is something you are used to for you carry that rock everyday It's like a cold gray storm, That blurs your vision You don't see what is there Just an illusion You are guilty, I am guilty, we are all guilty Of ruining someone, hurting someone Ripping apart someone's hopes - dreams We ripped them apart at the seams. What It Takes To Be a Winner by April (aged 12) Most people think a winner is popular. Most people think a winner is pretty or handsome. Most people think winners are stuck up. Most people think they will never become one. I think you are always a winner. By just being yourself. Not caring what people think. Even if it may be embarrassing. I think everyone's a winner, just for trying. Who Cares If You're Different? by April (aged 12) Why must we all be the same? Why can't we all be different? Why does everyone have to have fashion sense? And perfect hair styles? People can judge you, but you must be who you are, like me being obsessed with Harry Potter, my friend loves to baby-sit, another friend ignores insults thrown at her, another lives in the bad part of town, one gets terrible grades and likes DBZ, Another is a boy, who is nice and funny, And another boy can always cheer you up. We're all different, Why can't other people be? A Dog Ate My House by Rebecca Kaiserman (aged 9) A dog ate my house Oh no, oh dear A dog ate my house I have so much fear Oh what will Mom say when she comes back from food shopping? What Poetry Is by Ashley Ferrari (aged 11) When you feel a cool breeze When you climb up into a tree You look down and see: Poetry When you listen to the hum of a buzzing bee When you stand on a cliff to look out at the sea You're looking at: Poetry When you're enjoying a play from a high balcony When you plant a tiny flower seed You are planting: Poetry Care of Babies by Helen Ody (aged 11) Buy some runny honey Get it in a pot. To cure the baby's nappy rash, Smear it on his bot. (Please don't try this at home - RS) The Sun by Alex Palphreyman (aged 10) The sun woke up and gave a yawn She stretched her arms at the crack of dawn She looked down with her laser eyes And saw the clouds and heard their cries She pulled up her bedtime cover And said goodnight to the moon, her brother Evolution by Stefan (written when 8) Seedling, sapling, tree. Trickle, river, sea. Evolution day by day. Monkey, Ape...Me! Speech by Jamie.C (aged 11) How do you speak? I speak with writing. Why do you speak? I speak for people. When do you speak? I speak day and night. Where do you speak? I speak in my mind. Easy Tiger by Helen Ody (aged 11) Easy, Tiger, not so fast You'll get there soon You won't be last With your cool cat shimmy And your funky feet Your wicked dancing can't be beat! Seasons by Juliette Thorpe (aged 10) Whiteness all around Ice on the window pane Night times here at half past four Tea time round the crackling fire Evenings and mornings taken by Jack Frost Running water frozen Spring lambs jumping Pretty daffodils Running water Irises dancing in the breeze Night times later Garden flowers Scorching sun Unmanageable heat Morning flowers rise Making beautiful colours Evening comes Rise again Autumn colours Under the sun Terracotta red Umbrella helicopters falling from trees Maroon brown Nights becoming earlier The Cherry Blossom Fairy by Amy Mckenzie (aged 10) Living in the Cherry tree, Beautiful and small, Crept a little fairy Three inches tall Her name is Cherry Blossom, She lives in a cherry tree, Her best friend is Wild Rose, In the land of fantasy. Dead Dog's Ditty by Helen Ody (aged 11) A grandmother doing her sewing had the coal fire beside her a-glowing. By poking a log she set fire to her dog, and now to his funeral she's going. The Storm by Harriet Sheppard (aged 12) It rages like an angry sea, It's like the fury inside me, It growls fiercely like a hostile beast, It's a hungry dragon hounding it's feast. It flashes like the fires of hell, It's a banging drum drowning out my yell, It's a thousand knives slashing my face, It's an enemy force attacking this place. Sunset by Beth Sissons (aged 11) Orange afterglow. The sun sinks into the ground, Like an upturned boat. Night by Beth Sissons (aged 11) Night is a black tent, Pegged down by a thousand stars, Sheltering the world. Humiliation by Jennifer Marsteller (aged 11) Hello, I'm dumb, I made a mistake My feelings hurt, my feelings ache It started right out in the pool The bell had rung; we'd come from school. I tried my special high front tumble When I got out, I started to crumble. For as my enemy pointed out My trunks weren't with me I started to pout. For my trunks were in the pool I was trunk-less, I felt like a fool. Friends by Jasmine Odeyingbo (aged 10) Friends have their ups and downs, Smiley faces and big frowns , They argue sometimes, sometimes not, But they have fun, a lot, a lot. Friends have their special times, Run around and make up rhymes, If someone does something wrong, We'll forgive them with a special song. All our friends are different sizes, All are friends have lots of surprises, All our friends are different colours, All our friends don't mind each other Friends have their ups and downs, Smiley faces and big frowns They argue sometimes, sometimes not, But they have fun, a lot, a lot. Dancing on Midnight Hill by Harriet Sheppard (aged 12) The moonlight catches your sparkling eyes, As we dance on Midnight Hill, The stars above are like diamonds, This night so mystical and still. The water ripples from your softest touch, As we sail across Lake Sunshine, This day so warm and happy, I'm glad that you are mine. The candlelight flickers at your every word, As we dine by the great Dusk Sea, The sun behind us, a magical view, I think this is the best it can be. The autumn leaves rustle as you walk away, Last goodbyes in Remembrance Park, He said: "Perhaps with someone else, You will dance on midnight hill, in the dark." Respect by Sophie Warburton (aged 11) It has always been a mystery Since before the dawn of time The backbone of society A thing of object and mind Respect has halted world wars And futile disputes alike As chaos topples civilization Respect will help restore it once again So although we have our kings and queens Political bodies and such We have but one true influence The Worldwide front of respect. The Lady of the Wood by Hannah Roberts (aged 12) Underneath the apple tree, where fallen apples lie, the lady of the wood does sit, to sit, weep and cry. The apples fall upon her head, but she doesn't even flinch, She cares nothing much for what she does, or what people think. Her face is pale, her eyes are dark, she is almost ghostly, children will come and sit with her, after playing on the park. Her husband has gone to war, She received a letter today, she reads in silence to hear what he has to say. I'm not coming home, his letter begins, I've had the chance to live my life, now I have to go, I love you my dear, I'm sorry to say, but this is my goodbye. The Mermaid by Sarah-Lynn Robinson (aged 11) Last night I sculpted a mermaid, upon the sandbar. I worked late into the night, under the moon and stars. Then as I went to bed, the tide soon came in, Sweeping the mermaid out to sea, to play with the dolphin. That night after the sandbar disappeared, And all evidence of it cleared, The mermaid came to life and swam away, Just at the break of day. And that morning as I woke up, and went down to the sea, I heard singing that drew the attention from me. As I looked into the water, before my very eyes, I saw my mermaid singing, so beautiful it brought tears to my eyes. Her tail which I sculpted with so very much care, Was a beautiful, shimmering green that was so stunning and fair. And there upon her breasts were the seashells that used to be sand. And she had golden hair, and deep blue eyes, that were beautiful and grand. She was the most amazing sight I had ever seen in my life, And I've heard from her singing, she will make the Mermaid King a beautiful and loving wife. The Dangerous Dog by Ben Colyer (aged 10) I am the Dangerous Dog! I don't bark or woof I howl at the moon Like a million wolves I don't knock people down with My tail I just show them my fangs And goggle at them with my Gooooogly eyes And they run 2000 miles, I don't eat that chewy dog food I gobble and gulp like mars, Pebbles, bricks, houses, cities, countries, planets, stars, Galaxies, the universe. . . . . Life by Taylor (aged 12) Life is a mystery Dark, Haunted, Mysterious We can't bear to think about the Past Yet we hope for the best in the Future How will we get through it? It's challenging but we can do it It's hard not to think about What could have happened and what still can Life is a mystery How will we get through it? Tonight at Noon by Sian Miller (aged 12) (after Adrian Henri) What would life be like for us If frogs refused to leap And if all the hills were flat And paths were always steep? If the sky was black by day And in the night was blue If children were the masters And told adults what to do? What sort of planet would it be If "very soon" was "now" And what if you got milk from hens And eggs came from a cow? If geeky kids were popular And cool ones were alone Then if your friend was next to you You'd talk to her by 'phone. What on earth would life be like If this all happened soon? It could, but we'll just have to wait Until tonight at noon! Blue by Alyssa A. (aged 12) The sky The ocean Thine eyes are blue and blue is sadness 's colour, too The Rose In The Garden by Kaleigh Wright (aged 10) The rose in the garden Will not live forever The rose in the garden will soon have to go The rose in the garden is starting to get old The rose in the garden is starting to grow mould That rose in the garden was planted by my mother Who now has grown old To that rose in the garden I said, It is time for you to go {snip} Bye bye! Poetry by Emma Richards (aged 12) the bards of old claimed poetry flowed from the heart to the paper yet the heart knows no rhymes the poets of tomorrow say that poetry comes straight from the soul into the world yet the soul knows not rhythm the writers of today tell us that poetry hops from the mind because nothing else knows how yet the mind has little tenderness but I I know that poetry flows softly from the soul soothes rhythm from the beating of my heart and sometimes rhymes its way through my mind and then only then does the world see it My House by Antony Kerkhoff (aged 9) My house is a crash palace, You scramble to the black and white TV. My house is old and rotten, People say it's crawling with ghosts. My garden is a tip, There is no fresh green grass. The bumpy street is full of broken glass, Bad boys throw the bottles around. My neighbour is a quiet old lady, She gives me mouth watering sweets. After a day at school I go to my mate's, He likes the strange clothes we wear. Down the road my other mate is an explorer. He just found a new pure gold fossil. We all like the dark best of all, People say we come from another dimension. Made Up Creatures... or are they? by Rebecca Norton (aged 9) Dragons, all that silly lark, Fairies, that come out after dark. Are they real or are they not, Is this just some evil plot? To trick us into seeing things, Frogs that talk and fish with wings. Mermaids, are they the truth, I don't think so - where's the proof? Moles that see and read to you, Mice that comfort and help you through. Stars and things with smiley faces, Unicorns in different places. Horses that soar and fly the skies, Puppets noses grow when they tell lies. Frogs that turn into a prince with a kiss, Do you believe in any of this? I Can't Write A Poem by Lauren Payne (aged 12) I've tried and tried And looked on the web But it doesn't seem to work inside me! So now I'm going to attempt my fate And show this rubbish To the nation! Someone tell me if it's good Because I told you I don't Know if it is myself! So here we go Wait! There it is!! I think, By Jove, I've cracked it!! I was going to say that I can't write a poem But now it's become as clear As glass! I've done it again But by mistake I actually Wrote a poem!! Alphabetical Sports Day by Jordan Oaten (aged 8) At sports day I had a great time, Bright Sun in the sky, Chris Doyle was Excellent, but I was Faster than him so was George England. I was Happy Sports Day was so Interesting. I Jumped and my shoe fell off Kicking the ball. In the obstacle race my mum was Looking at Me No! I lose the Obstacle race Playing each station I go Quickly, Yes! Greens Win! Reds lose, Mr. Doyle's Saying. The Score was unbelievable Victory to yellow again. Waiting for my go, My mum said I was eXcellent but Yellow team won. I was Zooming. The Cloud Turtle by Abigail Skwara (aged 8) I glide through the aqua blue sky. I smile at the people on the ground. I slowly float on the wind. I am the cloud turtle. Things Happen by Dominique Lee (aged 11) The sun may fade at the coming of night the clouds may cry scream with all their might tears may run when your sad and blue so many things may happen don't let them beat you Own Language by Alyssa A. (aged 12) My friends all cerrect me on my improper grammur Like bestest and gots and busyism My bestist friend said "Why not make up your own language"? And so I DID! I thought it would be neat With words like bestist busyism And gots! But my teacher disagreed and she sent me to the principle's office for him to see! Happiness by Calvin Parker (aged 8) Happiness is sparkling gold, it tastes like toffee fudge ice cream, and it smells like sweet lavender. It looks like a colorful sunset, and it sounds like birds singing. Happiness means laughing together. A Moonlit Lake by The Mighty Dustmite (aged 12) I look onto the rolling waves, Lit up with silver light, The sparkling scene rests on the lake Within a moonlit night. I see a bird soar up above, It glides so gracefully, Up above, to reach the stars That sparkle for all to see. While I watch the stars above, I feel so very free, It all took place upon this lake, Reflected for you and me. Happiness by Alice Ward (aged 8) Happiness is soft pink It tastes like caramel and fudge and smells like sweet yellow daffodils. Happiness is children playing in the sun and sounds like a band playing in the park. Happiness is being with my friends. Orange by Kyle (aged 8) Sweet, Smelling, Sticky. Rough, speckled, dark, orange, peel. Squashy, segmented. The Spirit of Sound by Sarah B. Bernardo (age 8) The spirit of sound as I recall, Travels through my bedroom hall. The spirit of sound can't always be timed But, it can be rhymed. Every morning and night, Its spirit comes gushing in with dark and light. It pressures against your eardrum As it streams in as a large sum. Now, I sit waiting for it to come. Its spirit is warm and cheery So, it won't fade. It was the way the spirit was made. Abseil Cliff by Adam Nicholson (aged 11) It was my turn. I carefully walked to the edge, The wind hitting My nervous face. I leaned back and At that moment I knew I could succeed. Stumbling down The first few steps To uncertainty, then Happiness crept upon me. Touching the ground, Relieved, victorious. You and Me by Sarah B. Bernardo (aged 8) You and me, We both can see Are different as can be. No one's ever the same Like a snowflake we can't name. You and me, Are unique in everyway Unique like a hen's wild cluck or a donkey's loud bray. It's okay to be gifted, While others need their spirits to be lifted. It's a simple joy to be a unique combination Of an impressive creation. Inside by Toby Shaw (aged 11) There is a squirrel inside me, his two front teeth glistening like the stars in the night sky his eyes are like silver marbles. I am a squirrel who buries seeds and nuts deep within my bones and guts digging tearing and ripping my stomach. The Sunset by Chris Redman and Randu Chidavaenzi The sunset is a ball dropped from a plane The sunset is yellow water from the sky high rain The sunset is a yellow beach ball falling from it's flight The sunset is an egg falling into a pan, yum that's right It is a golden star shooting from outer space It is a golden head falling on its face It is a rose dying in the change from light to dark It is a piece of orange clothing falling from the washing line Chess Pieces by Nicole B. Bernardo (age 8) Glistening and shining through, We glide softly past you. Two sides to choose, One side will lose. We take our enemies to our side, That's not a joyful ride. We have our places, All different faces. Our King, our Queen The castles, horses, bishops and soldiers too. When the game is over, We play again In our wonderous land we call our den. Magical Winter by Olivia Conway (aged 9) Winter, trees bare, Frosty and icy are sure to give you a scare Winter, snowflakes dancing gracefully down Pond frozen wearing an icy, white gown Winter, icicles on your back Freezing snow is your track Winter gives you a dark feeling inside, A scary feeling like going on a ghost ride The cold air makes you feel alone Making you want to run quickly home Steam jetting out of your mouth Oh, when will the wind blow from the south! Magical winter, nippy winter, a cold chilly winter's day, But all this stops, when winter, decides to fade away… PINK by Madeleine Kimber (aged 10) Pink is happiness and joy. Pink is the feeling when you've met a good looking boy. Pink is the feeling when you're warm at home, Pink is the feeling when you've read a magic love poem. Pink is bright flowers in the Spring, Pink is the colour of everything. Pink is the colour when you huddle and blush Pink is the words, "Goodnight now, hush." The Class of 2003 by Jillian Bernath (aged 11) we have accomplished our goals and worked so hard so many memories we can't discard so many years of school friends and more so many things we have explored now it's time we have moved on before you know it graduation will be done with before it's begun we have been waiting so long for this special day we really wish we could stay it was a lot of fun but it's time to move on we love you and thank you for the past now all we can say is were the class 2003! The Galleon by Bethany Spooky, cold dark as a black horse. Gently lying on the calm sea With a BOOM of thunder the galleon awakes The galleon ghost crew awake from the dead Spooky, cold dark as a black horse, fiercely charging across the sea. the galleon wrecks, old boats with a mighty ROAR. the galleon crew hoists the tatty old sails Spooky, cold dark as a black horse the crew gets angry the galleon gets tired the captain says, "Back to bed." The galleon was getting sleepy "Back to bed," he whispers Happiness by Kelsi Smith (aged 12) Happiness is doing with a smile what you have to do anyway It is forgiving an enemy instead of making them pay Happiness is calling a friend and talking for hours or sending a sick person cards and flowers Happiness is everything pure and true and no one can take away your happiness but you Snow by Kyle C. Stewart (written when 9) A little cottage peeking out of a blizzard of snow The man is trying to get through The bare tree is swishing from side to side Smoke is rushing out the chimney The ground is covered like a carpet The little robin is singing it's lonely tune The crackling fire in the cottage The mans feet scrunching in the snow The wind is making a whooshing noise It reminds me of going down a hill in my sledge Me and my dad playing snowball fights Santa is coming to town My nose is cold and red I can't feel my toes Happiness is in the air Black Satin by Dannie Bliss (written at age 10) Black as the darkness That covers the light Black as the starless Sky of the night Or crows lifting into flight. Black as the ally way Quiet as the tomb Black as the graveyard Where memories loom Black as the empty Space in my mind. Why did I ever Leave you behind? Vegetable Riddle by Zoe Clayton (aged 11) I am green Some people like me You can boil me You can eat me with Christmas dinner I look like a golf ball Who am I? The answer to this, and all the other veggy riddles, can be found below. Veggy Riddle 2 by Jared Rankin (aged 11) I'm orange or purple I'm white inside You put me in sauces sometimes Don't cry over me. Who am I? Veggy Riddle 3 by Amy Callan (aged 11) I am green, You put me in a salad, I can be grown in a garden You have to clean me I can also be used as a dressing. Sometimes I'm nice, sometimes I'm not You can get me in all supermarkets My first letter of my name is the twelfth letter in the alphabet. What am I? Veggy Riddle 4 by Laura Christie (aged 11) You can make a face with me, I am usually used in November You can make a soup of me I have lots of seeds. What am I? Winter by Rosie (aged 9) Clouds grey, Wind's howling, Icy walls, Children are prowling. Frozen faces, Red noses, Snow falls down, then, Dead roses. Veggy Riddle 5 by Sarah Reid (aged 11) My first letter is the sixteenth letter of the alphabet, I come from the ground You can have me with butter I taste nice with chicken and gravy I can be made for crisps I can be mashed What am I? Veggy Riddle 6 by Kerry Graham (aged 11) I am white Sometimes I can be poisonous I grow outside I can be big or small What am I? Veggy Riddle Answers 1 brussel sprout 2 onion 3 lettuce 4 pumpkin 5 potato 6 mushroom Orange Juice by Robyn Hunt (aged 12) I love oranges, They taste really good. But I eat more oranges, Than I know I should. I eat them for breakfast, I eat them for lunch, I eat them for dinner, And even for brunch! I eat them in circles, And sometimes in squares, I once even found one That was growing some hairs! But I've ate them all now! Can't find any here, or there. Hey Look! On that shelf! I think I've found a pear! The Webby Spider Plant by Leonie Le Borgne (aged 12) Its tangled leaves white and earthy; its slight touch of green strangled in dense foliage; the freedom and destruction of the spider plant was identical to its shadow - peacefully eating up sunlight. Who? by Olivia Blocker (aged 10) There was a baby born in 1902 Little does he know one day he'd see the ocean blue. Dreaming of becoming a pilot for the Marines Not a guy who uses tanks or other ground machines. On his way across the Atlantic He wasn't scared, worried, or frantic. He carried two canteens of water and five sandwiches Seems kind of silly, do you know who he is? Charles Lindburg African Memories by Leonie (aged 12) Long black wavy hair swishing in the breeze like a whispering tree branch. Shy smile shining like a sunray through dark stormy clouds - depression. A smile so hidden, so questioning, only the keenest minds understood it. Almond shaped eyes staring through misery eager for adventure, craving joy and light - begging for a glance of gratitude or an answer to poverty. Her voice a soothing patter of rain on the rooftop; long-awaited for rain to quench all dryness and thirst. Thirst that sent people walking to find remnants of puddles left by the last rains. She skipped over mountains, criss-crossed deserts, sailed through oases, flew with sandstorms - her spirit galloping in the rusty colors of canyons. An eagle soaring with the wind; diving into deep nooks and crannies. It was a touch so soft it was nearly an intangible flitting shadow. A small hand escaped from under a lavender poncho to touch my soft blonde hair. The sun shone into her eyes so they sparkled; danced around like little flames reaching out to become more than what they were. Trapped by Kate Whiting (ages 12) A person staring, A wolf howling, Trees rustling, A baby mouthing. A lion's roar, A fish's escape, Giant jaws widen, Monkeys and apes. Rock in the mountains, Coal in the fire, My sister screaming, Birds flying higher. Sheepish by Lydia Hart (aged 12) Are sheep sheepish when out in the rain? I don't know I'll ask them one day. Do sheep turn smelly? Do sheep wear wellies? I'm not a sheep so I don't know! The River by Hannah Brooks The River trickles Down and down I'm Too young for having fun with the fish. Now a toddler, I'm getting faster, But still too young for having Fun. Getting older, now a child, I'm not too young for having fun, The salmon swarm through me. Now I'm a teenager, fun Is for the young. As I meander here and there I'm getting faster as I go. Now I'm adult I go as fast as I can, I'm a rapid, I don't want to but I don't care I'm a rapid I flood, it's my life I put myself At risk. Now I'm older my ripples wrinkle, I wish I hadn't done the risky Things I did. The River Thames by Charlotte Munt Rushing, Gushing, Slowing now, A shimmering Sheet of foil. Rustling, Crinkling, A shimmering Sheet of foil. Rippling, Coughing, It wheezes its Way home. Snuffling to The salty sea to die in peace alone. The Thames by Stanley Raymonde (aged 11) The icy water glints in the sun , Chanting its whistling song, And slivering like a snake on the burning yellow sand, The water quivers in the cold air, Darting in and out of the rocks, Crashing every now and then into a rock blocking the way, But nothing can stop it from making its way to the sea, It fights for a place in the wide sea, It gasps for air and sighs in relief because its journey is complete. The Money Tree by Olivia Blocker (aged 10) There was a clever boy Or so the people say. He said If we can plant seeds why can't we plant money Or something else we need? So he got out his piggy bank And planted it deep And put it in a hill Which was rather steep He waited 30 years And soon grew old Dying on a hill they call "Bright Gold" People waited and waited for the tree to grow I guess they were wrong He wasn't clever He was slow. Red by Cassie (aged 9) Red is the color of a sweet red apple Red is the color of a flower in bloom Red is the sound of a bird singing Red is the sound of an instrument playing Red is the silence of a storm going At the Lake by Jillian McNeil (aged 10) Bathing suits, towels and snacks, And sunscreen to put on our sunburned backs. Water droplets running down my face, Looking at our cabin, it's such a peaceful place. the rocks will get stuck between my toes, Geese fly over putting on great shows. My Uncle will be sailing the waves of the lake, My Grandma will come out with snacks that I will take. But the best part is sitting on the pier, When you always know you are free of fear. The water glistens against the sun, Which tells that the day is nearly done. We walk on the grass full of dew, Into the cabin we always kne