Foreword This is the second year that I’ve had the pleasure of reading poems written by Comberton students, thanks once again to the work of the students themselves, their teachers and the brilliant Mrs Denton. I spent a great and insightful series of evenings surrounded by the students’ poetry, reading and re-reading their thoughts and ideas and wracking my brains about which poems stand out the most; about which to put in the anthology. It was an awful and tough choice to make! In the end, the poems that I chose were the ones that stuck in my memory, the pieces that made me breathe in and think, or breathe out in laughter, sadness, frustration or joy. I wish they could have all gone in and I hope that those who didn’t will carry on writing as long as they find it a positive experience. I run a lot of workshops in a lot of schools around the country and normally am invited in for one day, and then leave. Comberton is different and for me, works the hardest to ensure their students get the most out of seeing live poetry. After a day of performing, they work with the young people to allow them to really explore their own ideas of poetry, of what they want to say on paper. And this enthusiasm and hard work has shone through in the poetry. Reading this collection of poetry makes me wish that those who speak badly of teenagers could come for just one moment, and sit with this collection and read. And re-read. And realise what diverse thoughts and feelings are connected with these young people. Of all the things I experience in my work as a poet, I most enjoy working with young people like those at Comberton, and being allowed a small glimpse into their imagination. Thanks so much. Hollie
Hollie McNish - Biographical Details Hollie McNish is a UK poet who straddles the boundaries between the literary, poetic and pop scenes. She was UK Slam poetry champion in 2009 and the first poet ever to record and perform at Abbey Road Studios, London in 2013. She has garnered titles like “chick of the week” (MTV), “internet sensation” (Best Daily) and poet Benjamin Zephaniah stated “I can’t take my ears off her”. Her latest poem “Embarrassed” was enjoyed and tweeted to fans by renowned singer, Pink. Hollie has performed in venues as diverse as Glastonbury festival, the Royal Albert Hall, Ronnie Scott’s Jazz Bar and had poems appear on Radio 4, XFM, MTV, Channel 4 and BBC 2. She has had poems used in The Economist, Radio 4 Woman’s Hour, the Dove Campaign for Real Beauty and Channel 4 Random Acts. Hollie runs a poetry in education organization Page to Performance. She works with rapper Inja and runs poetry workshops across the UK. She has also worked with schools and youth centres in Belgium, Germany, Australia, France and Portugal, and for the British Council in Latvia and Poland. Although mainly in English, she also writes partially in French and German. http://www.holliepoetry.com
Sponsor - The Friends of Comberton Village College (CVC) Trust Fund The Friends of Comberton Village College (CVC) Trust Fund was established in 1984. We are a group of parents of past and present students, friends and governors of the College, and supported by members of CVC staff. Our aim is to generate additional funding to support the work of CVC, both for its pupils and the wider community. We are a registered charity and all funding we receive is used exclusively to improve facilities and equipment at the school. Want to Lend a Helping Hand? The Friends of Comberton Village College Trust Fund welcome your support We are a small group of parents, teachers, governors and likeminded individuals who work voluntarily behind the scenes to help raise funds for the College’s worthy projects. All support is most welcome, however small. We meet formally only 3 times a year but how much time you give is entirely up to you. We are proud of our achievements - raising funds for a mini bus, a grand piano, sound & lighting systems for CVC productions, supporting extracurricular activities, etc. but these things can only be achieved with your help. As a registered charity all funding we receive is used exclusively to improve facilities and equipment at the College. If you think you
have what it takes to make a difference and are interested in raising funds for worthy causes, or just want to help out more generally, we’d certainly like to hear from you……. If interested, please contact us at: The Friends cvcfriends@gmail.com Go on... make a difference! http://www.about.combertonvc.org/trust_fund.cfm
Acknowledgements Special thanks are due to The Friends of CVC Trust Fund which has sponsored the publication of this anthology and financially supported the overall project. Thank you to those parents of Year 8 students who made voluntary contributions and to Mr Yeates of the Art Department for organising the delightful illustrations created by a selection of artists from Year 8. We are indebted to Nikki Pinder for typing up the children’s poems and to Sara Rowland for printing the anthology. Finally, thank you to English teachers at CVC who have inspired the students to write these poems, especially Iain Walker who led our celebration assemblies. Alison Denton
Chapter One Poems about the natural world
Illustration by Damaris Bott
Snow Step by step, We build our lives, Not caring for the many that die. Day by day, We cascade to ground, Not caring for those whose graves we hound. Night by night, We slumber deep, Not caring for the souls we reap. And when summer comes again, We’ll be washed away by wind and rain.
Damaris Bott
A really different idea of snow. I like how the writer has made snow into the ‘baddy’ when most see it as fun. Hollie McNish
There’s a stingray in me There’s a stingray in me … arrow shaped sting … squinted eyes … Owner of the sea bed … I’m waiting … for the second you brush past me … Then I snap – I got this from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let go. There’s an owl in me …big, round eyes to see in the dark … I call my friends in the dead of night … I sit and watch … but no one knows that I got this from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let go There’s a lion in me …claws as sharp as a needle … paws as big as someone’s head King of savannah … I wait, patiently … for the right moment… Then I strike my prey … if I were you… I’d stay away – I got this from the wilderness and the wilderness won’ t let go There’s a jungle in me … all the animals combined into one… That’s what makes me … Me … I came from the wilderness and the wilderness won’t let go.
Georgia Berry “Strike my prey” is really strong – I could feel the ‘snap’ straight away. Hollie McNish
Winter Winter I see the snow falling down I see the lake freezing now I see the shrew sleeping in his hole Spring I see the world waking up Daffodils and wooden mills The shrew is emerging from his hole Summer I see world is up and about The sun is out no there’s no doubt The shrew is wide awake Autumn The sun starts to calm down The leaves are falling now Winter again The sun is sleep now The world’s resting now The shrew is asleep again
Harry Betts
I love this story. So beautiful how you describe each seasonal change with the image of a little shrew, sleeping, waking and going back to sleep. It really brought nature’s cycle to life for me. Hollie McNish
Ghostly Howls The ghost of the night, I listen as it howls through The dark trees outside. I see the fox of the night, Scurrying for food below.
Gaby Adams
Great images in such a short poem. I can hear and see it all! Hollie McNish
The Sea A big glass of water An underwater rave A hot summer’s day A blue blanket
Dan Whitmore I love the image of the “underwater rave” in this poem. It is really vivid. Hollie McNish
Protest Poem – Born Free Cheetahs pacing up and down No space to run No open ground No grass to hide in No prey to chase Lions glumly staring ahead Bored of life Plod with feet like lead Through a sad enclosure No control of their destiny, deprived of choice Sea lions, who should be swimming In the clear seas Ducking, diving, skimming Instead in a stagnant pond Made of concrete Humiliating made to jump For fish Don’t visit a zoo Adding to misery Or sponsor a victim Pledging to feed it Instead support endangered species In their natural environment Where they can I love the passion in this poem and Fly with wings unclipped the way it really pleads with the Roam in privacy audience. I can hear the writer’s Hunt with dignity And be born free voice really clearly. Nick Robinson
Hollie McNish
The Wilderness There is a dog in me When locked up inside I shout and bite and kick… I run and jump and wait loyally I keep this dog because the Wilderness gave it to me and The wilderness won’t let it go There is a sloth in me A brown haired sloth I hang and wait Shiftless and boring There is a Meerkat in me Always looking out for things Inquisitive I keep this because the Wilderness gave it to me And the wilderness won’t let it go There is a stag in me Competitive and proud An addiction for winning As strong as an iceberg This too I got from the wilderness Noah’s Ark is inside me a little bit of everything I help but can also cause sadness
Callum Moroney
I thought the last line of this was really great – the addiction for winning balanced with the boring sloth. Hollie McNish
Illustration by Maria Mangera-Willeke
The Wilderness There is a parrot in me, a wide array of iridescent feathers …a speech machine … I keep this parrot because the wilderness gave it to me… And the wilderness will not let it go There is a snake in me… Hissing bitterly … fangs poised to Strike … I got this too from The wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go There is a Hyena in me … prowling Over the parched plains … agile Paws scampering over rocks And sticks … its laugh – like
Cry echoing through the canyons of my dreams There is a sloth in me … I sleep … an indolent sack A fickle being … lazing Around in the summer sun I keep this sloth because the wilderness said so, and the wilderness will not let it go There is an eagle in me… Determined … yet it knows When to back down … it Flies through the canyons … Amongst all the other creatures Within me… with all the things That make me ‘me’ I come from the wilderness.
The animals in this poem are described brilliantly. I love the sloth and the snakes, fangs poised to strike. Hollie McNish
Maria Mangera-Willeke
The Wilderness There is a snake in me …green with resentment … capturing the mind And sedating the emotions … leaving only bitterness. The fangs bite down Deep … tearing and scarring gashes in the heart … I keep this viper Because it belongs in the wilderness … but the wilderness gave it to me And I can not give it back There is a wolf within me… at one with nature … a howl that defines me For who I am … grey midnight fur creases around my Muscles … my eyes … chestnut … they are the only things that
Defines me from my pack … from the crowd The wolf is a part of me … I can no let her go … The wolf is the wilderness … and she is here to stay There is a spider in me … crawling through problems … Often hiding in the darkness, no talking, no laughing, no crying, no smiling, only spinning A web of thoughts and memories … the wonders of life that people let go of Decorated with intricacy and patience Time and time again my spider falls through a gap … that is invisible A crevices that is invisible to everyone … me and you … This spider as a burden … but my curse is a part of me and I can not let it go The hyena in me is always there … always hungry … the spots always glowing … my hyena laughs Away the hunger … all day … every day … hysterical … scavenging Through the world … my world … nothing but the wilderness My home is an abyss … an abyss of life and death … salt and sugar Prey and predator … the wilderness is a part of me A jigsaw piece that is meant to be … the wilderness is me And I can not let it go
May Flack
I think this is a really imaginative and vivid take on this poem. Hollie McNish
Tigers Tigers are my favourite animals Why, you ask? Because of their beauty, the way their Fur ripples over their impressive bulk Because of their vivid, black Stripes, contrasting over orange Because of their size, the way They loom silently over unsuspecting prey Because of their roar, as it Rockets through the air, never wavering Because of their muscles, When they leap over you with their Powerful back paws Because of their weight, 450 pounds of pure, raw, danger Because of their fierce claws, sharp as knives Because of their tails, long, majestic Deceiving you as they walk Because of their teeth, needlesharp More like fangs Because of their whiskers, white and pointed Though they are not unlike a cloud in touch And because of their eyes, pinning
Piercing you down so you have no Choice but to just see You can’t match the gaze of a tiger
Olivia Grenfell
This makes me want tigers as my favourite animal. Hollie McNish
Winter Winter is the jewel of the crown Winter is my white rabbit, hopping from place to place It is the cold and musky breeze that gently floats into my room Winter is the white smile of the Cheshire cat, greeting me It is a graceful and magnificent white dove that glides through the forest Winter is the water lily that floats down the sapphire river It is like a cold blanket, covering the world Winter is when the snow angels from the cold ground, spring to life Their wings glistening in the orange sunlight Winter is the glowing light that makes the tree tops sparkle Winter is the cold and frozen tear that falls down my rosy cheeks and drops Deep deep down into the lake, without a single ripple I will miss you winter until we meet again
Courtney Scott
For me, the line ‘when the snow angels from the cold ground spring to life’ makes me go, “Ahhh. Amazing!” I can really see them and this. Hollie McNish
Underneath a field of flowers Underneath a field of flowers Lies a field of death and destruction People lost their powers People needed to take action People made a decision To create a division To fight and protect Therefore the field got wrecked At first glance, you enhance What once happened here? And what you could hear In this field of flowers The flowers are so bright But when you look into the light You imagine the horrors Of the wild explorers I like this poem because of the intrigue. I want to know more! It is very emotive and Soldiers were trained Beneath my feet very visual too. Hollie McNish Soldiers were strained But could not stand defeat The flowers now grow Where the soldiers once lay low Now you look at the Great Plains But the history still remains
Katie Small
Chapter Two The Built Environment Last night I saw the city Last night I saw the city devouring The mighty colleges eating knowledge Then spitting it in the face Of an old museum Consuming all the little people Keeping them till their days are done And laying them to rest under a Young fledging tree to dance upon their degrading flesh Last night I saw the city flowing The bikes, the cars, the water and the air moving without a care in the world Last night I saw the city alerting Shouting for its life Alarms both big and small warning you about what’s to come The danger through the door Last night I saw the city growing Chain saws and bull dozers Shouting down the obstacles for the office black of the future Last night I saw the city rustling Newspapers, flags, brown paper bags Nosily flapping in the wind of the day Last night I saw the city lying, resting and sleeping to get up the next day This poem stands out because it really shouts to me. The vision is so strong. Jonathan Surridge Hollie McNish
It hears It hears children running and screaming saying something of the houses, It hears water dropping from the sink, It hears the doors of a cupboard close and creak, It hears rusty bikes screeching and rattling outside, It hears instruments being played next door, It hears fire clacking in a fire place, It hears pens squeaking in agony, It hears dogs barking ravishly, It hears the wind swooshing through the air, It hears people stomping like elephants, It hears the lips of a first kiss blush wonder, It hears fans cheering with glory
Nathan Eaton
This is really exciting. There are so many different images. I love the “first kiss blush wonder� - a beautiful idea. Hollie McNish
The Tap It hears the rhythmic tempo of the clock It hears the metallic clunk of the pans It hears the high pitched ping of the microwave It hears the humming of an oven It hears the hiss of the gas I really love the rhythm of It hears the zing of the toaster this poem. Hollie McNish It hears the woosh of the fan It hears the whistle of the kettle It hears the light go click. Sam Crosby
The Kitchen Sink It hears a ka-dunk from the front door shutting, It hears a meow from a hungry cat, It hears popping and crackling from flying food, It hears clunking from the cupboard shutting, It hears a mum singing and shouting, This really brings to life all It hears a whoosh from the tap turning on, the noises in my house It hears splash from someone pouring milk, too. Hollie McNish It hears a flush from the toilet, It hears a slam from a grumpy boy slamming his bedroom door, It hears a hum from an x box in the living room It hears a pencil screeching against a piece of paper, It hears a zombie (or is it a game)
Sam Sibley
The Oven It hears the roaring TV in the lounge Say something of the stormy weather It hears the wind smashing against the window It hears a sizzling pan bubble away I love this dinner! I feel I’m there It hears a scraping pan It hears someone chopping with the kids wanting to eat. A It hears several snaps of a carrot really lovely, happy image. It hears milk plopping into a cup Hollie McNish It hears a rushing sink It hears a cat meowing on the window sill It hears a whoosh of the wind as someone opens the door It hears happy children stomping around the house It hears mum call “tea’s ready” Lily May Haynes
My House My house is a killer Once you’re in you can’t get out Slithering scary sounds of a hidden creature When all is quiet, the windows start hissing They let you know if the prey is coming Then BANG! It gallops the prey up Big Bouncer guards the front door Long and wide so everyone can see him What a fierce looking door! Always catches the intruder Locked behind bars, the intruder is taken That smell when you get close to the chimney It’s like a daily cigarette, nothing gets past it As you ding on the doorbell, a creature is released To stop anyone from entering The grass outside is like an evil baby Growing up to become the next big evil creature Until a massive monstrous flower pops up Then you know you’re evil My house is a killer Once you’re in, well, you definitely can’t get out
Jamie Segal
Brilliant horror poem. “Grass like an evil baby” is really original. Hollie McNish
Today I saw the city Today I saw the city relaxing The green grass talking to each other in the wind The trees sitting there Only moving when they need to Today I saw the city cooking People coming in and out as the city Adds them to the mixture and takes them back out again As if they are ingredients Today I saw the city munching People coming in and shooting back out again As if the city was spitting them up The city burps and the fumes of the cars, busses and taxes Are released Today I saw the city dancing Flowers throwing their pollen on a crowed of grass Like confetti and cars doing the rumba round and round the roundabout Today I saw the city laughing Theatres chuckling Cinemas chocking with laughter And bedrooms sniggering with delight Today I saw city sleeping Windows shutting their blinds Lights slowly die And cars eventually are dossing And the city is again relaxing And sleeping James King
This is beautiful to read. I love the dancing from the pollen on the grass and the trees sitting still, only moving when they need to. It’s so true! Hollie McNish
Chapter Three People & Relationships Beautiful You are beautiful You make the sun shine I’m ugly I make the clouds cry You are beautiful Your heart warms others I’m ugly I make people sad But when I look over the horizon All I see is you And something isn’t right You’re standing there alone
Freya McGraw I really love the ending of this poem. It is really sad. The idea of making cloud cry as an opposite to ‘sun shine’ is beautiful. Hollie McNish
Between the lines A frail, enfeebled woman sits alone, Thinking how the ‘good old days’ have flown, Each day leaving a mark, On her ever benevolent heart. Lines streak but cradle her face, As if to say “slow your pace”, But with each sag and bag, She recalls a memory she had Because without these lines, No-one could see what defines Her unique outlines
Katie Hodge
A lovely look at the past of a person’s face and lines. A beautiful view on humans. Thank you. Hollie McNish
Bully’s excuse They told me I had to do it, They told me I should, It wasn’t my fault, I would have stopped if I could, I was angry and sad, I needed someone to blame, All my anger and expressions, Burst out as she came, Don’t blame me, I’m not that bad It wasn’t my fault, It wasn’t supposed to make them sad, As I exploded with language, Her eyes filled with tears, Then I paused, and stopped And now I’m a fear.
Fay Hawkins
A great, insightful poem into bullying. A very observant and thoughtful writer. Hollie McNish
Burnt Toast Clive the absent minded soul had forgotten the toast incinerating in the kitchen, The pungent stench wafted its way to my room interrupting my sleep, Who needs an alarm when Clive is about? As I was awakening the screeching sound of the smoke alarm jolted me awake, I could normally smell it but never the alarm, Grabbing my dressing gown and slippers scampered to the kitchen in a hurry, There he stood holding the two smug culprits, In the bin they went, I snatched my favourite cereal and the milk and began to eat at the table, Clive making a second attempt at his toast, Toast take two Rushing to gulp down my cereal mum called us to be ready, I’m normally still getting ready during my mum’s call, But after my rude awakening I was quicker than my clumsy brother, I could see out of the corner of my eye Clive trying to grab his toast, I thought wrong, He was jamming a knife in the toast, ‘Clive no, NO CLIVE’, The electricity leapt light lightening all over Clive, Causing him to fall to the ground motionless, No one aware only me, That’s why I’m sat in my prison cell…
Josh Price
From the first line I really wanted to read this. It is completely unlike all the other poems and has a very shocking ending. Hollie McNish
Pills A horrible white one that I take Runs to my hands so they won’t shake This shows no one cares about me No one cares if I get covered in hot tea The pink pill goes to my old rusty brain And tells me that I have no pain Me dying to some is funny Me dying will save the NHS some money A wall of pills on my shelves Makes us all old folk apologise ourselves These pills just make us insane They make me scared to go out in the rain There is a yellow pill that I always drop Travels to my heart so it won’t stop But all I can say about that Is the only one who loves me is my blind black and white cat The blue ones that the silly doctors say to use a lot Tell me I’m happy when I’m not Really I think what is that for All I hope for is a friendly knock at my door Callum Harvey-McMahon This is so sad and powerful. It is amazing to see how you can put yourself in their shoes and really empathise. You must be a very caring person. Hollie McNish
If he was … If he was a food, he would be a chilli, hot and saucy Or a colour, his blue eyes are like Sapphires … no, they’re lighter – like the sky Or an animal, his voice is pure like a little bird in the morning. Maybe he is a hashtag, the most popular key on the keyboard, Hmm I’m not sure, maybe an accessory? Hairspray, bigger your hair is the better! He could be a microphone, Quiet while he is alone, loud when he is with his mates If he was in my pencil case, he would be my rubber, erasing any mistakes, And memories and haters. Keeping his paper clean.
Jodie Freed This poem has a great voice – lots of personality. I love all the ‘hmm, I’m not sure‘ and the change of mind ‘no they’re lighter’. Great rhyme and really fun to read. Hollie McNish
Doris I don’t remember you that well, And I’m sorry for that. I didn’t see you all that much, And I’m sorry for that. I kept your granddaughter away from you, And I’m sorry for that. I wasn’t called Valentina, But I’m glad of that. I rarely visited your old-green house, And I’m sorry for that. I didn’t like the smell of it, And I’m sorry for that. I broke your brown recliner chair, And I’m sorry for that. I ate all the battenburg you had, But it was really good. The last time I saw you I was in a bad mood, And I’m sorry for that. I didn’t like to speak to you, And I’m sorry for that. I never let you get to know me, And I’m sorry for that. I didn’t want to know you, But now I wish I did Your widow tale, the tragic night, Your famous dog, all of your life, My mum’s first steps, her teenage years, All of your stories, all of your fears.
Now looking back I wish you could see, What on earth happened to me, The curly hair, it came from you, My loud personality and big eyes too, Great Grandma Doris I want you to know, That I may not have known you, But I do miss you Battenburg is now called Doris cake, I miss you Sunday roast is a weekly thing, I miss you I drive past your house in Wolverhampton, I miss you I treasure the glass heart box you left me Thank you!
Lauren Robertson
This is so brilliant to read. Absolutely tragic and beautiful with a really stark honesty that I don’t hear often. I love the shift of line about “battenburg” – so funny. Well done. I’m sure Doris hears it somehow. Hollie McNish
I come from I come from Cambridge, From England and Malta, the smallest country and the modern country, From the curving dirt tracks in a forest, A grandma who worries about everything, From complaining on the phone in stilted English I come from my mum and my dad, From a family built house, Holidays to dirt road and prickly pears I come from ferries, scuba diving boats, From sunken shipwrecks and salty water, From shells collected from the depths of the ocean I come from the dark sky at night, From a perfect view of the stars, From a moon that gets to its peak in less than twenty minutes
Josh Callus
This Is beautiful to read and felt really personal. I love the grandma and the ‘holidays and direct roads and prickly pears’. I can really see what Josh writes lovely. Hollie McNish
I come from … I come from the land of dragons and noodles, From the land of Prime Ministers taking selfies With Barack and David during funerals I come from bungalows, From highs and lows, From communism and capitalism From Vikings and Samurai From bustling cities and quiet villages Urban and Rural, I come from the Land of Jensens and Svensons And Christiansens and Sorensons and Rasmussens and Eriksens I come from red envelopes and high hopes From manufacturing and skyscrapers Countrysides and light breezes I come from Denmark and China China and Denmark And now for the next part…
Will Zeng
I think all the divisions, the opposites and contrasts in this work well, as if they mimic the ‘high and lows’. I love the ‘selfies at funerals’ comment and all the names. I think ‘red envelopes high hopes’ is brilliant. Hollie McNish
I come from Cambridge I come from Cambridge. The Rosie ward. Full of crying babes. I come from a Council house, a blue slide in the back garden. A homemade see-saw. Flower print curtains that look like scary faces. A pretend sweet shop where my brother was a customer. I come from a broken home. Leaving my dad behind. Secretly packing our belongings, ready for the big adventure. Moving to the centre of Cambridge. Being the new girl for the first time. New scary people in a new scary school. Annoying posh accents. I come from a happy home. Moving back to where I grew up. A happy settled family. Smiles everywhere. Full of memories, not all good. A brother who sings, a mother who is like a big sister. A grandma who’s relaxed and a granddad with an odd sense of humour. I come from Cambridge. A white bungalow.
Imogen Smith I love the fact that this is a list poem that also tells a complete story – something which is really hard to do. I love the mix of deep emotions and very simple images such as “flower print curtains like scary faces.” Hollie McNish
Lollipop Lady They know they can go They’ll be ok “Thank you very much” Is what they should say Lollipop lady Lady Lollipop She’s got the power To make the traffic stop She’s there for me She’s there for you Standing in the rain Doing what she has to do Lollipop lady Lady Lollipop She’s got the power To make the traffic stop
Lily Agyeman
Love this!! There are lots of poems I hear which are very similar and this stands out because it is fun to read and great to speak. It is a brilliant, simple piece about these lollipop ladies who work hard for little credit. Please print some copies to give to the lollipop ladies. Hollie McNish
Metaphor Poem He is summer, bright, peaceful and relaxing, He is a dog, he would not betray or abandon, Always a twinkle in his wild eyes, He is a set of stairs, For he will raise you up but when you feel low he will stay down With you until you are ready to try again, He is daytime, nearing sunset, He radiates happiness like the sun, Never ceasing, everlasting, He is the Eifel tower, a destination for love, happiness, a famous figure The first name thought to bring joy, He is a daisy, his core is bright and special, entirely perfect, He doesn’t see that so he hides himself, Tries to blend in, be part of the venomous crowd, So as not to be attacked, he sprouts white petals, Hides the real core, center, beauty, bring the attention away from the real him, He is gold, pure, shining, expensive, priceless He is a piano, so many different pitches, keys, layers, sheet music, recorded, lost Improvised, imagined, dreamt of, so many different parts to him, All sounding spectacular, all addictive He is a mango, ripe, he endured his journey from the Himalayas to this tiny local shop, He has seen it all When you take a bite out of his existence, personality,
His intelligence stains your fingers yellow Dripping down your chin, staining your blouse orange, For you do not care as you are lost, In a trance, due to him, forgetting all else You will forget he is a person, because he is really so much more to you
Elisabeth Harrison This poem is so dense and full of passion for this person. I love the rhythm in the middle. Hollie McNish
Your Voice Your voice is like a cat being stood on Like a wooden door creaking Like Borat with a cold Your walk is like Donald duck drunk Like a bull charging across a building Like a three legged dog Your face is like scream that has just a beauty therapy Like curry gone wrong Like melted ice cream ‘Donald duck drunk is a great image! This poem has a lot of personality, which I love. ‘Scream’ Joe McNally after beauty therapy is another favourite line. Hollie McNish
Our Friendship Our friendship is like a beach We always surf around Our friendship is like the sand Always together in one big group Our friendship is like the waves We have our up and down moments Our friendship is not like ice cream We don’t melt in sadness when we fail Our friendship is like the woods All of us stand tall together Our friendship is like leaves We fall but never fail Our friendship is like mud We pack together and never leave each other Our friendship is not like sloppy mud If someone sinks we all sink Isaac Pilkington
I really like these images. They all work together well and each line really adds to the next. The last line is really lovely and haunting too. Hollie McNish
Poem based on “Out, Out� The plane flew majestically in the sky And concern was absent at the time The scene was orange and white: late in the day The sun was beginning to settle, rest and relax As the rolling green hills yawned goodbye To a new era of jagged, rocky white The sunset was upon us gliding to its rest The plane was only a ten miles away But this would offer little comfort at what lay ahead As the plane flew majestically in the sky Then to announce the impending arrival To those unfortunate passengers on board The plane decided to begin his mood swing BANG!! The white whale of a plane was descending Its cargo included many things Formerly known as people, humans and family The breathless baby, the mourning mother The weeping widow, the bloodless brother But hope and prosperity remained for the few Half an hour later the services arrived But they might as well have been undertakers They checked the pulse, a couple fading fast After they all gave hope they all drove away Sure, it was in the news for twenty-four hours But that was yesterday, all left now You make a shocking, The bureaucracy and the legal costs But no one ever remembers yesterday extraordinary event into a powerful poem. Well done. Hollie McNish Frank Roberts
Poverty Every time I hear That loud and horrible din I’m reminded of the days I spent Small and sick and thin I remember all those days ago When we were poorest of the poor When we tried hard to stay alive You couldn’t ask for more Medicine cost too much So when my brother fell ill Nobody could pay to save him I woke up, and he was trying still He made such a noise Screaming out of fear His pain was so great And I was deaf in one ear But then we moved out To a country with more gold And I stayed there, being rich Up until now, when I’m old
This was very passionate and made me think about life a lot, thank you.
Tommy Poll Hollie McNish
The Cafeteria It was in the cafeteria, that’s where it’s happened All rather funny at first Nobody had realised, and oh if they had Colour draining from faces some going mad The door had screeched and launched itself at the poor boy He had made no fuss, not a cry or a yelp Not even a cry for help His limp body thrown to the floor All because of that stupid door The ambulance came, it drove him away Screams died down Sobs broke out Even a tear from the class clown
Alicia Orange
A sad story – lots of imagination! Hollie McNish
The Hardest Thing To Do In The World The hardest thing to do in the world Is finding the perfect present For someone you don’t know that well Looking in every aisle Failing to find anything worth giving Thinking about the reaction they will give Having second thoughts about it This poem really puts me in But you can’t take it back now that awkward of giving All the stores are closed And time is not on your side presents. I can feel the nerves. Your cheeks are full of redness Hollie McNish As you hand over the present And anxiously wait for the response
Ciaran Coyle
Your Voice Your voice is like the soft sweet sound of a cat being strangled, It’s like a coin dropping on someone’s head, It’s like drinking the last drops of coke through a straw. Your walk is like a frog with three legs, It’s like the wobbliness of the water, It’s like a fat man toddling to the bathroom. Your face is as wrinkly as a tortoise, It’s as squashed as a pug’s face, And it’s as mouldy as blue cheese. Casey Miller
The poem is striking because it surprised me – I did not expect the ‘strangled’ and that made me laugh. Hollie McNish
Chapter Four Inner Thoughts, Feelings and Fantasies Books You can hear it whisper, Telling its hidden stories, Lost in a world of reality, But still and calm sitting bored on library shelves, They beg you to read them, Pulling you in to their lives, Pleading you to take them home, Just for you to take a glimpse of their words
Libby Maddox
A really magical image of the beauty and excitement of books – I totally agree. Hollie McNish
Colour Poem Yesterday I saw yellow A daffodil as bright as the big sun It made me feel so happy and beautiful Then I thought I would have a lemon bun On the big beach I had a banana In front of the sea, the sand was yellow Last week I saw green My friends tried to find a four left clover Instead they found a lucky lepricorn Suddenly he ran into the bushes We searched through the grass and leaves for the man But mother nature hid him behind beans The other week I saw grey It was a very dull and boring day Rain clouds the same colour as the pavement Books and my school uniform clashed badly The wind my blew some ash onto tiny rocks
Emily Osborne
I like this when the grey ends with your school uniform – a great place to come back to. Hollie McNish
Funny you should say that … “Why haven’t you got your maths homework?” Well, it’s funny you should say that … I let my friend borrow it they moved away, I lost my book Our cleaning lady threw it away, You said to do questions 1-10 You didn’t say to bring them in My dad had a nervous breakdown And made my homework into paper dolls A sudden wind blew it out of my hand and into the river I didn’t want the other kids in the class to look bad It was abducted by aliens I got it mixed up with my sister’s My mum packed my bag I didn’t know we had it I have a solar-powered calculator and it was cloudy I’ve lost my locker key so I can’t get it out
Josie Allen
A very funny poem which makes me want to know – where is it? Hollie McNish
Growing out of yourself Why don’t I want to be a fairy like before? All I ever do now is sit around, studying the law Why don’t I want to have a wand, and brew up terrific potions? All I do now is pout around testing different lotions That special spark has left me; it probably didn’t like the tea No more falling trees, No more walking keys, No more talking rocks, No more walking socks, Just falling marks I remember running in the buttercup meadows, Talking to the leaves, even though I was just sitting Sitting on the “too low leaves” Now I run around in a mad frenzy rush, Looking for my long lost brush I remember climbing up that great forking tree, Playing wizards with my friendly group of stones, I tried doing the same, just don’t judge me, When I tell you I fell down and broke all my bones
Katy Topple Great title! I love this poem so much. Such memories and the sadness of losing the childhood games – but please never stop climbing trees. I still do at 31 and it’s more fun than applying lotion! Hollie McNish
Happiness Happiness is a thing that lights your spirit Happiness is the colour of a rainbow come from heaven It is an energy that gives a boost to the day You cannot hear the sound of happiness if you are gloomy, But if you are happy you can Happiness is a message to other people Happiness can make you do anything that you couldn’t before
Gem Mustafa-Williams
I love these lines. Such an imaginative idea. Hollie McNish
Hate Hate is a winter with no snow Just ice freezing up the lane Hate is a headache throbbing up and down Increasing in its pain Hate is a blender that cuts the soul and mixes it with hell Hate is the strangers at your house who loudly ring your bell It is those days when you run out of loo roll while in your house alone! This ending is so funny. After such a serious poem Saskia Emerton with vivid hate, the last line is a good contrast. Hollie McNish
Homework I’d rather swim with a man-eating shark Eat a brussel-sprout Wrestle a lion Pet a hedgehog Get chased by a bear Than do my homework I’d rather set myself on fire Sniff a skunk Give up chocolate Punch a kitten Bathe in baked beans Than do my homework I’d rather stay In a haunted house for a night Be naked in public Get arrested Tidy my room Than do my homework I’d rather eat My own socks Be struck with one million spiders Drink pond water Eat lettuce and spinach I just can’t get over the line ‘punch Swallow a fly a kitten’. This really builds up the Than do my homework images. Hollie McNish Catie Simpson
I come from I come from Cambridge and Sunderland From well to worse I come from accompanied and widowed, from the tough Rubbing in of sun crème and skinny dipping in the nearest lake I come from the Rosie, with cradling arms and welcome cards I come from following my brother’s footsteps and a hard working I come from frilly socks and little dresses, from flowers to secure my top-knot I come from wearing gold bracelets while teething And getting ice-cream in my hair I come from late night fights and screaming From make-up and one large break up I come from lies and cheating I come from waiting I come from the sight of salty tears and smudged mascara From harsh words and disappointment I come from re-building hearts and acceptance From eventual happiness I come from major ups and downs from being labelled I come from independence and growing up too fast Speaking my mind in blunt honesty I come from love, even though I forget it, I do “Remember where you come from” they say Hell, how could I forget?
Grace Davison
I completely love the end of this poem; it’s a personal voice and really fun at the end of a very sensitive poem. Thank you for writing this. Hollie McNish
I come from I come from…. somewhere From hushed voices that whisper in, Quick, urgent tones From tiptoes, from layers of clothes From an epic journey of sea and sky I come from … secrets From super computers and spaceships From closed doors and open minds From official stamps and signatures I come from …oceans From sailboats and storms From ambitions, dreams From banks and galleys and mess halls I come from… skies From clouds and pranks and friends From headaches and stolen trucking From less work and more play I come from …accidents From hurried words, opening doors From long road and achievements From hard choices paying off I come from …maps From missed meetings From accidental meetings From a helping hand to a holding hand Jenny Marcus
I love the randomness of this poem; it really keeps me on my toes. A great diversity of images. Hollie McNish
Make-Up You reach a point where you want to be noticed To try and impress those we don’t know Dolling ourselves up To create someone we don’t know To hide our true identity Of who we really are Every morning we dread coming out We hide in bed because we think we cannot be seen Without the plastic that covers our face This is great for its Boys expect us to look our best When all that does is make us stressed simplicity. An honest, Dolling ourselves up thoughtful poem in a very To try and impress those we don’t know personal voice. Well done. Hollie McNish Tess Clippingdale
First Day 1. Heart-pumper Pulse-raiser Brian-freezer Sweat-bringer Body-paralyser Blood-stopper Confidence-shaker Mind-changer
Sophie Sharp
2. Thought-blocker Dream-snatcher Trust-breaker Bone-cracker Lover-shatterer Hope-crumbler Sense-destroyer Fear An intense and energetic poem which shows just how it feels to do something new and scary. Hollie McNish
Moving House I look around the bare room, The room I’ve known so long, And I see the boxes piled high, Being loaded into the lorry, I see the picture of mum, Squashed down the side, And one fat salty tear rolls down my cheek
Sarah Snelling
That is just a lovely poem to read – so true to the feelings and so simply put – ‘fat tear’ I loved! Hollie McNish
Emotions Many emotions I contain Many weathers such as rain Deep beneath the lines Past the fibre’s spine I have a heart that doesn’t beat I have a voice that cannot speak A memory, a story to be told
Haydn Davies
I like the poem because it sounds honest. I can feel the feelings speak up. Great. Hollie McNish
The hardest thing to do is… The hardest thing to do is…. Admit you’re wrong When you think you’re right And try and prove your points, You don’t want to back down, And look like a fool The hardest thing to do is … Admit you’re wrong Bad things have been thought, Bad things have been said, Bad things have been done, But that pride gets in the way The hardest thing to do is … Admit you’re wrong In a grown up world, Where arguments lead to reasoning, You should swallow that pride, Be brave, be bold, and be sorry Harry Newman
This almost made me cry. What beautiful ideas and deep thinking about life put across in such as easy to understand way. Hollie McNish
Chapter Five Sport Football Poem
Football is like a holiday because of its safe feeling Like a spa and its relaxation Football is like a river because of its flow Like a massage because of the smoothness The ball is like a Man Utd player because you want to kick them Like a rugby ball getting battered around a muddy pitch The ball is like your homework because it has been every where A goal is like a fisherman because the fish is always in the back of the net Like a punching bag because they’re always getting hit A goal is like a soldier because they keep getting shot at
Aaron Biggs
I’ve never heard football described so vividly – I can feel your passion. Hollie McNish
Snooker The balls go click They hit the side In the pocket You get a buzz You’re closer to the win You hope the opponent doesn’t get in Chalk the cue Take your time Hit it hard Bang, wait, hope It bounces off the edge and goes in You’ve won
Simon Gathercole
This feels like fresh fictions. I see exactly the moment of this poem. Hollie McNish
The Football There are many of me in the stores But mostly on the sports floor I was bought by a boy called Fred He asked for a skate board and got me instead As soon as we got home we went to the park And played until the sky went dark I got smashed and beaten till I lost my air I fly off the ground as people stare I spin and spin until I’m dizzy I sprint around the luscious grass But I love it because this kid is class I love that feeling of grazing the back of the net I’m scared of deflating being thrown away and left I got smashed and beaten till I lost my air I fly off the ground as people stare A very interesting I spin and spin until I’m dizzy perspective which makes me feel sorry for the One day out at the park football! Hollie McNish This boy walked up looking quite nark He was as tall as a skyscraper And his nick name is the pain maker He picked me up and flew me into the air I landed in a thorn bush and lost all my air That was the end of me Thanks to a boy called Fred I got out of the store And the world was waiting for me to explore
Euan Dunlop
Squash The cream coloured walls The bumps of red The wood-tiled floor The bright yellow light No-one there no sound No noise The glass back walls Filtering the glowing dust Flick of a switch Chattered voices Bright light Nervous voices Swing of a raquet again, again Spin of a raquet again, again Shake of hand, positions taken It begins Twisting turning Spinning swerving I liked the speed, pace and Banking turning rhythm of this poem. It gets It’s over more exciting as the sentences get shorter – great Edward Wheeler poem to read. Hollie McNish