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Old Possum,
illustrated by Axel Scheffler |
Old Possum’s Children’s Poetry Competition 2009
On the theme of ‘Heroes and Heroines’ for children aged 7-11 years
Linking with the ‘Heroes and Heroines’ theme of National Poetry Day 2009
We are delighted to reproduce the winning poems from the UK/Native English Speakers categories below.
7-8 Year Old Age Group
1st Prize
Indiana Woodlouse
It’s Indiana Woodlouse, he lives at our school,
At the bottom of the bush in the big big field.
He walks across rope above enormous holes,
He swings across puddles on spiders’ webs.
One miserable day when the clouds were black,
Indiana Woodlouse found some wool on his back.
He tied it to a stem and swung on it,
Then a drop of rain hit him on the head.
He fell from the wool and dropped to the ground,
The rain got heavier and he did drown.
We found him at break-time floating in a puddle,
And we all felt sad that he’d no longer be around.
By Ryuichi Coupe, aged 8, from St Godric’s RC Primary School, Durham
2nd Prize
A Soldier’s Poem
Soldiers trembling with fear,
Hearts thumping like drums,
Eyes watering like melting wax,
The enemies appear,
Looking fierce,
Gold shiny spears,
Rusty old helmets,
Crash, bang!
Sparks shoot into the air,
Men fall to the ground
Clutching their hearts,
Breathing fast,
Men watching
Friends go forever.
By Louisa Davison, aged 8, from St Cedd’s School, Chelmsford
3rd Prize
Barack Obama
He is like the blow of a whistle
That can be heard all over the world.
He is the yoyo that never stops.
He is the chimney with fi re burning below.
He is the sticker that never comes off.
He’s like the sound of a tiger’s roar.
He is like a crowded chick in its egg.
He is the thump of an elephant’s foot
as regular as a heart beat.
By Sarah Mercer, aged 8, from Derwent Lodge, Tonbridge, Kent
Highly Commended
Ten Things the Fairy Godmother Needs to Make her Wand Work
A car mechanic’s spanner to fix the star bit on.
Some black shoe polish to make the stick-bit black.
A bowl full of magic to make things just appear.
A stick to hold when she is using it.
A leaf so if it runs out of magic she can pour some more in.
A saxophone so when she’s got the magic she blows it through the stick
and up to the star.
Someone to help her with the fiddly parts.
A gold-fish so that when she has poured the magic in, the gold-fish slaps
the end of the wand shut.
A rubber to rub out all of the creases on the stick.
Finally, she puts the wand to sleep.
By Jessica Dodsworth, aged 7, from St Hilary’s School, Godalming, Surrey
Are you a Hero?
A cat that does not want to eat mice
A porcupine that does not want to spike.
A snake that does not want to bite
A dragon that does not want to fight.
A car that does not want to pollute
A gun that does not want to shoot.
A ghost that does not want to scare
A bully that wants to share.
These are all heroes.
By Emily Hill, aged 8, from Hale Preparatory School, Cheshire
9-11 Year Old Age Group
1st Prize
The Greenhouse Tank
They tell me I should
Shoot, slash and kill.
But really I want to help them live,
Not kill them all to death.
They tell me I should
Wear the heaviest armour of all.
But I really want to be dressed in glass,
And be full of beautiful plants.
They tell me I should
Be full of missiles.
But I want to be full of herbs,
For soups and curries.
They tell me all this,
But I’m not going to listen.
I’m just going to buy some flowers
And start my own little garden.
By Michael Figini, aged 10, from Hendon Preparatory School, London
2nd Prize
My Dad’s Life in His Fingers
My dad’s life is in his fingers,
You can see they’re tough and hard.
He plays the beautiful guitar in the kitchen,
While his tunes echo around the room.
He climbed trees when he was young,
Had the experience to look around the world
From the top of the highest trees.
My dad’s life is in his fingers,
You can see they’re tough and hard.
He would knead the bread everytime we made it.
He would knead it so it was the best bread ever.
He would pick blackberries,
Would get thorns in his hands
And his clothes would get stained,
Purple and pink from the juices.
But the thorns didn’t hurt him
Because his hands are tough and hard.
My hands don’t tell my life yet.
By Thomas Kerr-Bell, aged 10, from Rhodes Avenue School, Wood Green, London.
3rd Prize
Home
Nothing in his eyes but wind, sand and hope,
He trudges through endless sand,
Leaving the soft, cool waters behind,
Always making his way
Towards his homeland beyond the hills.
Nothing in his eyes but dread, fear and determination,
His eyes bleeding tears for his son, wife and people,
Powerful as the ocean,
Soft as the sun,
Odysseus is going home.
By Sam Pallister, aged 10, from Canonbury Primary School, Islington, London
Highly Commended
Hands
Your hands are like a rhino,
Fearless in every way.
Your nails are as a rock
Strong and bold.
A tiger with no fur.
A dog with no lead.
A frame with no picture.
A fiery ember
Burning passionately.
You love to cook.
Intelligent
Paprika
Garlic
You love seasoning.
A scar runs down your thumb.
Veins stand out like fire.
Moles are scattered around, like tigers in an Indian rainforest.
Hairs - spiky like jealousy.
Cuts bandaged with pain,
Adventurous,
Brave like a storm in Caribbean seas.
Your hands are extraordinary.
The rhino within them collides with life.
By Louis Mann, aged 11, from St Helen’s Primary School, Ipswich
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