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We are very proud of the creative writing of our students and thought you might like to read a selection of their recent poems.

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Death and Pain

8.30am

Positivity flows through my body

with a happy mindset

all reading for online learning.

 

Screaming

Drama enters the atmosphere

fear runs down my spine

“He’s not dead!” I say

as I touch his cold hard skin.

Shock and confusion intensifies.

 

Ambulance Wailing

Nurses rushed through the door

seeing if he is OK

No response from him.

 

Silence

On the other hand my mother screams and wailing

finding it impossible to believe what she just saw.

Me and my sister, worried and confused

everything happened so fast.

 

Days, weeks, months pass

To this day I still feel guilty and hurt

I cry, I feel torn and affected.

 

Will I ever heal from this trauma?

 

By Amina, Year 9

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The Rainforest Man

Morning

And Rainforest man wakes up

To the sound of splashes and hisses

In his head

Waves of water gush onto damp land

 

Chattering of birds

And Rainforest man sitting highest of the tree

Then elegantly making his way down

To sip

Gently

From the pools of the east

 

From the east

Of his big peridot forest

He always comes back muzzy and befuddled

 

And he comes back to reality

Of the roaring metallic soar

The speed of wheels

To the bibbing and honks

 

By Bailey, Year 9

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I Am

I am from the second day

of the first month

on the eightieth year of the two thousands.

I wonder what’s the next song

that is about to play.

To be honest it doesn’t matter

any tune

would be okay.

I hear the birds chirp while my speaker plays.

The sun begins to shine

through the small window built in to the side.

I see the pieces of old paintings

scattered around the house

posters stuck on the wall.

I’ve got pictures and drawings hung up galore

the scent of past memories lingering down the corridor.

Old and new feelings gliding all around.

Many eyes are staring

they are all waiting

waiting on my downfall.

I am the second of January

of two thousand and eight

I am the kidrama that

stays up until it’s late.

I am the lack of sleep.

I see the moon go to sleep.

I watch the sun go up and come back down.

It’s just the way I live.

I seem to dream myself different

but don’t look at me

as if I am a different breed.

I come from the comfort of

intricate patterns created from the tips of my fingers.

The comfort of small strokes and details made by my paintbrush.

 

By Betty, Year 9

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i come from gaelic warriors 

i am from the emerald isle

where warriors do pile

 

i am from the 100 year old carriage and the smell of the pub right down to the taste of the peanuts 

i am from the rusty chain of an old bike 

to the pain and gain of my parents

 

i am from the house with the broken gate 

i am from the one and only fate of us all

where i will wait for my call

from dusk til dawn

 

i'm from the fish and chip shop with the 99p hot wings 

im from the nissan navara that sits on the drive

i am from the pride of dirt on my face to my untied shoelace 

i am from the pride of my family

 

i come from the petshop boys blasting out 

to my grans rose bush that she lives on through

i am from the love and grief shared in my family 

to the births and marriages

i am from the love of my family

 

By Bobby, Year 9

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I come from a place 

I come from a place where the musky smell of cigarettes litter the air

I come from a place filled with flavours, herbs and garlic

I am from the monsoon rain, from the slapping of water droplets on concrete slabs and pavements

I am from the burnt-coloured orange leaves on autumn leaves, red and yellow

I’m from the colours of festivals

I am from my family’s affection

From my mother’s nurturing and my brother’s wisdom

From following my dreams and having my destiny in my hands, my future at my feet

I’m from God and faith

I’m from India in the warmth of Punjab

I am from the blood of my ancestors, and the sacrifices of their patriotism

 

By Damanvir, Year 9

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Have you seen Macbeth?

Oh, it’s my favourite Shakespearean play

The passion,

The love,

The guilty pleasure,

Oh, but then there is the death,

The sadness

The guilt

The death,

The manipulation,

Don’t forget about the laughter they shared,

Before they departed from this world

 

By Kamari, Year 9

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There was a boy, lonely, upset, angry

There was a boy, lonely, upset, angry.  Just sitting there in the pouring down rain.  Jack was his name.  All that was around was a wall, over towering him as he screamed for help that was never coming.  Nothing but darkness and a stone archway before him.  It was lit up with white mist. Suddenly it all went quiet, so quiet he could hear his heart beat laying into his chest.  Every living thing had dropped dead as his skin faded pale and a loud murderous shout came out from the arch. One after another screams were repeating “help us!” one soul had said.  In the blink of an eye, dark figures multiply around Jack. They had pinned him down. One of the tall blank faced men smashed his legs inwards without a care in the world. The eroded ground started to crumble as the pits of hell was reopened once again.  He tried blocking out the cries for forgiveness, he wouldn’t even hear the sound of a distant siren.

By Mikey, Year 8