Autumn 2021 BEAUDESERT PARK MAGAZINE
A N T H O LO G Y Sir James The sky was red, the sun was falling, dusk was coming. The hero of the night was here, his red velvet cloak blowing in the wind, his armour shining in the night sky. He was here to save us all. Taller than mountains, he stood on the castle walls of King William the Great. Eagles called his name, for he was called James, bringer of war. He was here to defeat William the Great as he has sentenced innocent people to death. His crown was smashed to pieces but he was ready for war with soldiers being forced to fight. The church bell rang, this was the sign that war had started. One man versus an army, fighting for their will. Who would win? “Surrender now, you have no chance against us!” “Maybe I die here but I’ll fight for my people.” The army charged slicing their swords here and there, but the knight simply whistled and everything was gone. No castle. No army. No nothing. All that was surrounding him was white. He blinked and he was back. People, screaming, suffering. This meant one thing, King William was here. It was all up to him to defeat the King… By Willough, Year 4
A Song about Lockdown I’m so sick of lockdown Wretched covid, covid Number 19 ringing in my ears So much stress and tears I need to find my peace Wind in my face staring east It’s time to saddle up my pony And no longer feel lonely Billy dog at my heels Sammi grunts and squeals As I gallop as fast as I can Moving from boy to man Sam’s snatching at the reins, Rid of all the mental pains She wants to go faster and faster Jumping ditches with her master Is that rain on my face? I am in a different place I’m free in my mind and soul Now I feel complete and whole. By William Golds., Year 4
The Wall Nothing came to mind. With pen in hand and paper on desk, he still couldn’t think of anything. He felt as if he were in a cage with no exit. He sat staring aimlessly out of the window, watching the birds fly freely around the open sky, all the while he was trapped. Trapped in a room of misery, facing a wall of impossible, the only sound coming from the clock on the wall. Ticking, ticking, ticking. What felt like hours later, and the page was still empty. The clock still ticking behind him. His mind still dry of imagination. Looking around for inspiration, he found nothing. ARTHUR B, YEAR 3
Moments later an idea came to him. He pondered for a minute, picked up his pen, looked at the clock and began to write. By Sam J, Year 8
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