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Welcome to the Poetry Zone archive where we keep our favourite poems from the past. Poems here are from before June 2001. I Hope you'll enjoy reading them once again.
A Poem To Be Spoken Silently by Rachel Kenny (aged 8) It was so quiet that I heard The clouds scuttle by. It was so quiet that I heard Mars mutter something under his breath. It was so quiet that I heard The powerful electricity run Though the electric cables. It was so quiet that I heard The shining rays that the sun Has sent down to us. It was so quiet that I heard Santa's elves cut ribbon for All our presents. It was so quiet that I heard My brain buzz as it thought What to put next on this poem
The Invisible Boy by Dean Robinson (aged 10) The invisible boy Of our school Standing by a wall Not getting in the way, And that is best The invisible boy, Isn't really invisible He is just.... Standing by a wall Pretending he's not there. The invisible boy Never ever talks But one day The invisible boy Fades away Now our school Is extremely lonely Without that Special watchful Invisible boy The only question That remains is Who was the invisible boy? Because the school Wishes to know There's a new invisible boy Taking the old one's place Leaning by a wall Getting lonelier and lonelier All by himself
The Owl by Kate Aldridge and Stacey Cleaver (both aged 11) The silence of the night breaks, A nocturnal silent spectre swiftly takes The first midnight foraging flight Through the shadowy darkness of the night. Flying stealthily through the trees, Its feathers ruffling in the breeze, Swivelling its head it looks around Scanning for creatures on the ground. Its fluorescent eyes pierce the sky, Rodents quiver as it swoops by. With its talons it spikes a shrew, Disregarding the nights curfew. With its prey it lands to eat, This precious shrew a delicious treat. The Owl shrieks its echoing call, Sending shivers through creatures big and small. Its invisible glove snatches a mouse, For the owlets screeching in their tree-top house. This furtive creature is not being unfair, So why do people not understand nor care? Oath of Friendship by Naomi Ellis (aged 8) I want to be friends with you until The last cry of the last eagle, Or 'til the water of the sea runs out, Or 'til the shine of the last star fades away. If we are friends I will give you The shiniest part of a star, Or the flame of the Sun in a wooden box I will give you The golden egg of a crystal-winged swan My friend, I will like you more than The last and most precious crystal, Or a magical gold fish. I will like you more than The last chant of an ancient wizard.
African Sky by Natasha Page (aged 11) No one can take this away from me No matter how hard they try, This is something in my mind alone This beautiful African sky I try so hard to describe it But the words won't come out! No one can take this away from me No matter how hard they try I sigh as I take one last glance At this beautiful African sky Tiger by Layla Sebbah (aged 9) (Haiku) Stripy coat flutter Eyes are glaring and staring Big growl and fierce roar Bicycle by Kate Aldridge and Ryan Lightfoot (ages 10 and 11) This poem is written in the same style as Robert Louis Stevenson's poem 'Block City' How can a bicycle be so hard to ride? Each time you see one it sends shivers inside. You can go places if you know how, But if you don't you will crash somehow. During your lessons you flew over the bars Came up crying with dreadful scars. You skidded and crashed into trees Or got blown over in a very strong breeze. One time you will remember well, Is when your tyre slipped and down you fell. Falling off and grazing your knee, Riding a bike is hard you see! Other things could happen which would be much worse, Not minor things like a tyre that has burst. Now I think you'll take much more care And not ride along on a wing and a prayer! My Poem by Jenny Hort People tell me all the time, That every poem has to rhyme, But I declare that to compare, They don't. Now that my first verse is done, I think I'll have a little fun, Wiggle waggle tiggle tun, Done. I think that I will dedicate, This poem to my granddad (late), And to my best friend Rosie .B., Seeya. Rabbit Haiku by Brian Geist
(aged 12)
My Cool Cat by Sarah Goodey (aged 11) My Cool Cat Is always looking in the mirror So you always know where to find him He's as big as a normal cat So you wouldn't suspect that he's a Super creature. At night I watch him change Into a cat with sixties hair Hipsters on with platforms He's super cool cat And he fights unfashionable people. He's faster than Superman But there's one thing he never forgets And that's his microphone. He's a tabby with a big imagination But he never forgets his mask and cape. He's as strong as a Gladiator And shaped like muscle man He never forgets his karaoke machine. But in the morning He's just My old puss! My Daddy by Laurie Clare Field (aged 8) My Dad gets mad, When I do things wrong, But when I'm good Doing what I should, He hugs me all day long!!! The Spirit of the Forest by Sophie Watson (aged 10) The Spirit of the Forest comes creeping through the night, silently over the pine needle floor. His hair is long thin twigs, shadowed by the towering trees. His eyes are silver,darting about. He has clothes made of tree bark and the bark flows softly at night. The twiggy hands, his shining face both silver in the yellow moonlight. His feet, so soft, his shoes are made of leaves, silently creeping through the forest. Softly, gently, smoothly he walks. His voice, a crackle that breaks the silence of the night. Like a howling wolf his shouts break out, through the forest. NO animal is ever afraid of him. His wooden sceptre, high above the bushes below the swaying trees. The Cataract at Lodore by Lauren Pinnock (aged 10) The cataract calm then rides along, Flowing peacefully as if a war had just finished; It's unhurried and pleasant; and ripples along, Steady and slow, still and soft, Tranquil and wavy, gentle and quiet, Walking but not dashing. Soundless, unflat, motionless and smooth, It's not ragged or hard it's just plain old smooth; It nor quarrels or fights at the Catoract at Lodore. It's nor threatening or spreading, nor whizzing or hissing, Nor dripping or skipping, or plain old nipping, Nor shinning or twinning, or rattling or battling, Nor shaking or quaking, or pouring or roaring, Nor moaning, or groaning. It glistens in the moonlight and it reflects off the stream; Nor whitening or brightening, or quivering or shivering, Nor flurrying or scurrying, or toiling or boiling. Ducks by Annie (aged 12) Ducks
Baboon by Gemma Welch (aged 9) I am the brilliant brainy baboon I hate bananas and leaves I feast on stars and trees I hate water and fruit juice I slurp tomato juice and also booze I hate the jungle and rainforests I live in a palace with my mate Boris I hate to "ooh!!!" like other baboons I sing songs by the Spice Girls I hate to walk and run I drive around in my stretch limo I hate to pick other baboons I pick dust from shooting stars and the moon! Ways Of Entering A Classroom by Louise Chapman (aged 10) Some people creep quietly Some people talk continuously Some people walk casually Some enter with class Some slam the door Some rush like a car Some people act weird Some people charge in, enthusiastically Some get thrown in, reluctantly Some strut in proudly Some barge in rudely Only some skip in, eager to learn The Breath of Winter by Samantha Ierullo (aged 12) The breath of winter shakes all around Although some might be still The breathless circle must be wound It creates a thrilling chill The small, tiny puffs; unique in their own way Are blown around to a startling white The people embraced by it ; they sway As many people warm up, this cold winters' night Bundled up to a tee, as our lips turn blue The chilling air rises still To stay warm by fire is all we knew As the world slowly warms up at will Your cheeks are red, as is your nose 'Tis summer now, yet the wind still blows Dream Jars (From 'BFG') by Lisa Gardiner (aged 5) In a violet jar is a dream of a violet playing football In a yellow jar is a dream of the Sun eating a Kit Kat In a green jar is a dream of grass putting lipstick on In a blue jar is a dream of the sea kissing its girlfriend In a pink jar is a dream of roses pulling their heads off In an orange jar is a dream of an orange having a baby In a black jar is a dream of coal singing the millennium rap In a red jar is a dream of a volcano doing hopscotch
Composed at the Beach. March 10th 2000 by Kristina Bougourd. This beach so silent While the waves glide upon the shore No sound is to be heard But the crying of seagulls. The burning settles just beyond the horizon. For the day is coming to its end. Shadows of rocks appear on the water dancing with the waves. Shells glimmer in the sea like jewels. As the sun sinks down Heavens spread a black cover over the sky The sun will ne'er be seen until the cover is lifted. This poem was based on a poem by William Wordsworth. The Gale by William Le Bargy
(Aged 10)
CASTAWAY HAIKUS Raft Life by Kim (aged 11) Boredom on the raft Sharks in the murky water Heat, hunger and thirst Sharks by Alicia (aged 12) Sharks waiting for food Waiting for someone to fall Waiting around rafts Phillip by Brittany (aged 11) cannot see a thing misses his parents deeply he is thirsty, too Sharks by Kirsten (aged 12) Silent predators They are surrounded by sharks They eat castaways Water by Jelena (aged 12) Calm ocean water Drifts by as it always does Water lots and lots. The Island by Jed (aged 11) Beach nice and cosy Small but it will have to do Nature at it's best Food by Christine (aged 11) Nothing much to eat Stranded out in the ocean Really need some food Ocean by Meagan (aged 11) Vast but always cold Sharks, Flying Fish and Coral On a raft today Food by Teneil (aged 12) Need more food for them Flying fish is not enough for them They need to eat food Raft by Nathan (aged 11) Floating on a raft Just able to fit on raft Lost in the blue sea The Magic Chest (by Class 5D at Abbey Road School) We will put in the chest The sly hissss of a slithering serpent stalking its prey The dazzling sparks of an enchanted wand, as it releases its magic. The scarlet crack of a headless horseman's whip at the strike of dawn. We will put in the chest The flash of white thunder and the grumbling rumble of black lighting. The crackle of burning twigs on a raging bonfire in the heart of the forbidden forest . We will put in the chest A frozen beam of ice, winding across the snowy landscape And now The golden hinges creak As the ancient chest closes, Holding our magical images secret and safe.
Tornado by Roccele Okolowski (aged 11) Whirling winds in the sky How do they get here? Oh, I wonder why Smashing Trashing Dark !!
Thanks for all the MOON poems. Unfortunately we haven't enough room to include them all - but here are some our favourites. The Moon by Joshua Greenbank
(aged 8)
Thanks for the brilliant STORM poems. I'm sorry we can't fit them all in - but here are some of our favourites. Storm Thriller by Paige
Green (aged 10)
Without You by Iman Amrani (aged 10) Without you I'm like a singer without a song a poet without a poem Without you I'm like My little sister without a cheeky grin My teacher without a mug of hot chocolate
Snow by Sabrina (aged 11) The snow falls silently. As it passes it reaches out to hold my hand. Instead it gives me a sweet kiss, that I will hold forever It falls to the ground and then is gone. It feels as if I have lost a friend.
K is for... by Jennie Beans (aged 8) K is for the krazy sound I hear when I talk to Kimberly Ann I is for way I would LOVE to ignore Kimberly Ann M is for the Monkey resemblance in Kimberly Ann B is for the boggling nonsense of which she speaks E is for her elephant nose R is for raging me of trying to get out of our boring convos L is for her weird WEIRD laughter Y is for the "Why?" is she so annoying!!!
When I Broke My Arm by Jordan Arm Fracture Broke, fell Cracked, Snapped, Swelling Yard, Deck, Sling, Cast Healing, Sawing, Moving New, Swim Arm
Rain by Brittany Klusman (aged 12) Rain is a monster of the sky, It falls in all different ways, Rain may be nature, but no one loves it, yet no one hates it, Its a farmer's dream. Rain is getting nothing for Christmas. Rain is school, A horrible thought, Rain is like being grounded forever, It's like when two friends get in a fight over something stupid, Rain in a storm is like a violent war,
The Lady of the Sea by Colette Sensier The Lady of the Sea Is mist, Is froth, Is foam, Is droplets of salty-sea spray together in an almost shapeless twist of moonlight and starlight and sunlight-glisten - touching the midnight silver and sparkle. Is anger, Is hurling round and down-ness, Is hurtling throwing wildness of waves no longer rocking gently up and down, but thundering and soaring and rough and tough and hurly-burly whirling. I catch a glimpse of her. A faint impression of streaming star-spangled hair coasting and cavorting. Or eyes like water-sparks dancing on the waves. Or a swirling gown of seaweed and lashes of foam. Or maybe the spirits of sea-creatures diving in and out of the gamboling waves and anemones opening and closing around her. The Lady of the Sea Is dreams.
Rain by Nicole Bacher (aged 12) The sky was like a dripping faucet Dripping rain colder than ice When the ran hits your skin it feels like 1,000 bees stinging you all at once The clouds are blocking out all of the sun's golden rays People's houses become their prisons Their houses trapping them until the pounding of the rain stops The sound of the pounding is like the footsteps of everyone running home on the last day of school When the rain dims down it feels like feathers falling against your skin When you see the rain dripping down the window it makes you want to go outside and play And you know the rain has stopped when you see a rainbow filling the sky with color
Niagara Falls Haiku by Mike Dougherty (aged 12) Let's go to the falls, Niagara Falls is so cool In the Winter days.
Rain by Shalin Patel (aged 12) Rain is like a like a cheap pearl necklace All the pearls smashing to the floor Rain is like a broken friendship Your old friend slamming the door Rain is like a baby crying Tears running down his cheek Rain is like a crush turning you down To find someone else, you must seek The road is like a sheet of silk Too slippery for a car to sit Rain is an obscure painting You see it, but do not understand it
Winner by Erik Altieri (aged 12) I am a winner and you are not. So, you can go home and cry a lot. I will smile for today, and save my tears for another day.
Poems by Joe Forte (aged 12) yes I love poems yes I do as much as you
Varnack & Lolly by Erika Koons (aged 12) Varnack is full of anger He comes out in the ugly month of September. Varnack is red the color of blood. Lolly is a happy girl, She comes out in June, the season to come outside and play. Lolly is light blue like a baby.
Varnack by Daniel Goeggel Varnack is a winter guy He is as scary as the dark sky He is as black as the night And he always wants to pick a fight
My Yellow Pencil's Adventure By Jacquelynn Dunbar Nocerino (aged 12) I was writing peacefully one day When my yellow pencil ran away It went to Alaska (boy it was cold) It even found a city of gold It ran through a war in France With this pencil I didn't stand a chance Then it ran across the Equator And went to China a little bit later Finally I gave up and went home I had used another pencil, but it ran to Rome! Hot Pink by Chris Andrews (aged 12) Here comes spring, all the hot pink flowers bloom They fill up a hot pink room, for the bride and groom. Hot pink are nails, brushes and socks too, I have a hot pink shirt, what about you? Hot pink is exciting, unlike dark blue. Blush, lipstick, nail polish and hair are hot pink too!!
My Paradise! by Gina Nata (aged 12) Trumpets playing as the cold, crisp air Smacks you in the face. As you stand on a freshly fallen leaf rug. Where am I? I am in the middle of the woods on a chilly fall day, Playing hide-and-go-seek with the squirrels. I am looking at all the different kinds of leaves Like Sassafras and Sugar Maple. I am standing on a billion leaves No man could ever count in one day. Where am I? I am in my Paradise! Halloween by Grace Fitzpatrck (aged 9) One dark and scary Halloween night, All the witches came out to fright. Away they go swooping up and down, To scare the children of the town. They flew over this house of mine, This made me spill my blood-red wine. They knocked upon my rotten door, I fell in horror on the floor. While I was lying there in shock, They found a way to pick the lock. With a cackle they began their attack, Fire from the stove was keeping them back. By accident the house caught alight, The whole sky glowed red-bonfire bright. The witches flew off all annoyed, But my poor house, it was destroyed. I heard my mum call "Come over here!" My knees began to shake with fear. "Wake up now!" I heard her scream. Then I realised it was all a dream.
My Magic Shoes by Mrs Beardsel's Set 1 My magic shoes Let me tiptoe across rippling water My magic shoes Make me swim like a barracuda I can run like the wind I can touch the shining stars In my magic shoes
The Sun by Stephen Tyler (aged 10) The sun, Is a juicy orange ball Flying high in the sky. Back to top of page, please, Mister! |