Write Team Bath Festivals’ of work by An anthology 2008 Write Team The
before I was silent The Write Team 2008
An anthology of work by Bath Festivals’ Write Team About Bath Festivals
Louise Betts Education Manager Bath Festivals
Bath Festivals organises and We run targeted education runs a year-round education programmes in schools, youth programme linked to both Bath centres and community settings Literature Festival and Bath and are happy to talk to people International Music Festival. about our work and the development of future This programme of educational programmes. We also offer events and activities enables advice on working with artists people to develop their creativity and developing projects. and explore a variety of art forms. The work that happens during The Write Team has been a the Bath Literature Festival and significant element of our Bath International Music Festival education programme in 2008. is just one part of the work we The project has had rich benefits carry out across Bath and North for the young people and East Somerset with a variety teachers involved and we are of partners throughout the delighted that this pilot year is whole year. to be followed up by a further two and a half years of research and practice. www.bathlitfest.org.uk Introduction
Emma Metcalfe Write team Project Coordinator, Bath Festivals
The Write Team was developed For the past 11 months the The workshops have involved a This anthology provides a lively by Bath Festivals to provide pupils and teachers, under the great deal of imagining, exploring record of the pupils’ energy and young people in four primary and experienced guidance of the and developing the confidence imagination in writing which we four secondary schools in Bath writers, have had the chance to to write independently. Everyone hope you will find as exciting and and North East Somerset Local try everything from performance has had the chance to explore adventurous as the process of Authority with the opportunity poetry to short stories, as well words, share stories, create and writing them. to attend weekly creative writing as writing their own scripts and meet new characters. workshops. The aim of the performing them at The Egg workshops was to develop pupil Theatre, Bath. confidence, whatever their ability, through creative writing.
The Write Team was funded by the Paul Hamlyn Foundation and supported by the School Improvement Team at Bath and North East Somerset.
I don’t want a I don’t want a Six things I have lost penny for a Gran flower for a Nan I have lost a lot of stuff like an early morning Cousin to London I don’t want an alien for an Auntie, I don’t want an egg for an Auntie, no one to play with. She might be weird. She might go off. A lucky leprechaun from my gramps I don’t want a mammoth for a Brother, I don’t want a heart for a Brother, Noooooo! He might be huge. He might stop beating. My favourite baby book ‘Blue Balloon’ I don’t want a penny for a Gran, I don’t want a flower for a Nan, No more popping fun. She might get lost. She might die soon. My favourite CD of the best band I don’t want a cricket for a Cousin, I don’t want a mermaid for a Cousin, no more rocking out. She might be too loud. She might be discovered. My multicoloured teddy bear toy I don’t want a feather for a Sister, I don’t want a rubber for a Sister, No one to cuddle at night. She might blow far away. She might be erased. My best poster from Year 1 – I don’t want a carrot for an Uncle, I don’t want a leaf for an Uncle, But I’ll never forget that year. He might get eaten. He might blow away. A pair of smelly old slipper socks I don’t want a coffee for a Grandad, I don’t want a water balloon for a Grandad, My feet will never be warm again, He might get drunk. He might burst. So I bought a Pudsey bear pen from the charity shop. I don’t want a car for a Mum, I don’t want a pane of glass for a Mum, I hope I don’t loose this. She might get rusty. She might get shattered. Jack I don’t want a bed for a Dad, I don’t want a painting for a Dad, Year 5 He might get squished. He might fade away.
Bethany Torrie Year 5 Year 5
I don’t want an egg for an Auntie, She might go off.
The Listening Station The Listening Station
It hears in the hall at dinner time It hears in the hall the rhythmic footsteps thumping to get dinner, the soft popping of bubbles in the soup being bowled. It hears the swallowing of food, It hears the slushy pouring of a jug of water, It hears drifting silent faces staring at food, the quiet tapping of feet. It hears the cook slosh the food on the plates. It hears the cold squeak of fingers across the window. It hears in the class the pens doing pictures, It hears in the hall of the ICT suite It hears pens in mouths, the uneven tapping of keyboard keys, It hears children swallowing as teachers tell them off, the squeaky talking chair being swung round and round the room. It hears the radiator bursting out hot air. It hears the quiet scratching of a child who has lost their pencil nib, It hears the silent murmuring of the overhead projector. Holly Year 5 The Listening Station
It hears in the hall at lunchtime, It hears in the living room It hears the chairs clattering, collapsing when people stack them. It hears the muttering of children. It hears children pass each other. the whistling poof of air out of the sofa. This sound never stops. In the ICT suite it hears the tapping of typing, It hears the squeak of fingers touching the screen, It hears brains chatting to their fingers, It hears the loud crashing noise of a little boy playing with his cars. It hears the ticking of clocks, time passes. It hears the quiet click cracking sound of the T.V. waking up. This never ends. It hears the tapping sound of doggy paws. It hears the dining room at teatime, It hears the squeaky sigh of a girl being squished by her big black dog It hears the laughing of Mum and Dad, It hears the plopping of pen on the drawing paper. It hears the sound of munching of mouths eating, Bethany mouth watering food, It hears the clattering plates as they get collected, Year 5 and nearly smash.
Elizabeth Year 5 The Listening Station
It hears in the hall at dinnertime the chatter of chums, It hears the clink of cutlery and polishing of plates, It hears rumblings replaced by satisfied sighs. It hears in the ICT suite the whirring hum of mechanical thought, It hears the tiny tapping of magical creations, It hears a lullaby signaling sleep. It hears in my bedroom at night distant cars wailing for attention, It hears the muffled voices from flats below, It hears the counting down ‘til morning.
Lowri 10 11
“Before I would know the answer but wouldn’t say it but now I will speak.”
The Listening Station The Listening Station
It hears in the hall at dinner time, the scrape of a single plate, It hears in the hall at dinner time the sound of children shouting It hears the chatter of one man’s voice, It hears people stacking chairs rapidly It hears the growl of feet leaving the hall. It hears the sound of munching on crunchy food. It hears in the I.C.T. suite, the tap of a single key on the keyboard, It hears in the ICT suite all the children muttering away It hears the whirr of a computer starting up, It hears the loud sound of keyboards tapping It hears the creak of the old wooden door. It hears the click of the mouse. It hears in the office, the letter going into the envelope, It hears at the pool, splashing around It hears the beep of the photocopier, It hears voices screaming give me the ball It hears the swish of someone’s hair moving. It hears all the people getting changed and asking if anyone had seen their underwear. It hears in the bathroom, a drop of water in the shower, Courtney It hears the swirl of the toilet being flushed, Year 5 It hears the brush of a wobbly tooth. It hears in the bedroom, the play of toys, It hears the snore of a sleeper, It hears the flicker of a book opening.
It hears in the kitchen, the chop of a knife, It hears the chirm of the kettle boiling, It hears the squeak of the window closing. It hears in the park the almost silent cheep of a bird, It hears the cry of a girl falling off the monkey bars, It hears the scream of children playing frantically.
Ross Year 5 12 13
Suddenly I was in the dressing There is an applause in the Inside the sea What If time went backwards? From a dream rooms, the bright light scorching background. It was time. I step my eyes. The girls with blonde on stage bright light’s blinding me, Inside the sea there are waves Headaches before the fun. to reality wigs giggle excitedly in the corner. other characters in freeze frame Throwing up at the beginning of the party, Inside the waves there is wet I sat worrying my bottom lip, on Rob comes in. “Hurry up, you’re on waiting for their cue. The booming before it’s even begun. this dingy, grey bus. There was a in five!” his familiar voice made my of the orchestra blaring at me, Inside the wet there is smooth Laughing at a yet, not heard joke. drunk in the corner, which was stomach lurch, I wanted to telling me to say my first line. Waking when falling asleep, Inside the smooth there are shells probably where the strong smell scrunch up into a ball and make watching the glass fill with coke. It all seems to be happening so of five day old cider was coming the word disappear. Jessie comes Inside the shells there are waves fast. I stand on stage a thousand Tree’s shrinking from. The screams from the two up to me. “Isn’t it exciting! I can’t eyes glaring at me, all wondering Inside the sea I feel the cold winter, autumn, summer, spring. prissy children at the front were wait to get out there” She “What is going to happen next?” Having the present before driving me insane, I can’t scampered off in her little pink Inside the cold I feel the air I topple to the floor as the edge of Christmas begins. memorise my words with this dress. Aren’t they nervous? the plastic knife digs into my side. Inside the air I feel the sea Knowing your birthday racket ringing in my ears. I glance Suddenly, I was being pushed and There are gasps all around me, the after you’ve died. down at the script, the brown pulled, my hair being scraped curtain gently falls, covering me Amy You’re in trouble blobs of old coffee smudging the from my head, my clothes being like white snow on a winters eve Year 8 after you lie. third line. The bus came to a stripped off me. I stare at myself in and the applause erupts. The sudden halt, I looked up – it was You’re in the room the mirror, someone shoves a tray curtain floats back up. I bow, my stop. I took a deep breath as I before you move to the door. of biscuits in front of me. I cringe at the audience shriek wildly, roses stumbled more than stepped off You jump in the air the sight of them and cover my showering me as the atmosphere There is the slow the bus. There it was, as clear as after you’ve fallen to the floor. mouth to prevent me bawling over slowly fades out and once again the sun in the sky, the West End …swooshing them. “No thanks” I stutter. the theatre is empty. Time backwards theatre. I swear my heart stopped, of the waves, swaying drunkenly E.M.I.T just for a second it stopped. It was upon the sharp jagged rocks Martha I’d know what had happened finally happening, my dream was littered with starfish. Year 8 before it had happened to me. so close to being reality. I went Murmurs of life whispering to you through the huge metal doors, as a greeting Esther posters of future performances there is a mind numbing fresh Year 8 closing in on me. tangy sharpness to the air engulfing my nostrils. Beauty, hypnotises the mind.
Sapphire Year 8 You jump in the air after you’ve fallen to the floor. 14 15
Where am I? Wo bin ich? Executioner’s Axe Racing down
Old and New. Insects buzzing contently, I gaze around me. rush hour Technology and Tradition. fairie’s feet pitter patting A restless crowd. Cigarette butts across the ever growing The man in black grasps me. Look at the chocolate brown mamba tottering Steaming at every corner. water lily. the Harajuku district. The man with a golden band around his head paces forward. No space A hissing feral cat, The audience is sent into madness. For everything that Look at the pale geisha performing a tea ceremony. song of the ice-cream cart, Shouting, jeering, even crying, they swarm towards me. Wants to be Boys practicing kendo then practicing the art of arcades. the sausage van smell, On the pavement. the fresh bakery next door. Where is the cloth that polished me? Taste new flavours, What about the stone that sharpened me? Everything they will flood your palette. Smell of fresh meat I am clenched so tight by my holder’s sweaty palms Spills on the road, Slick jasmine then sickens me, I might choke. With the red dragons, crispy tempura. but the crunchy softness And yellow canaries; of a sweet pretzel sucks A dainty woman cowers below me. I am an alien, a westerner. People-transporters me towards it. Her clear green eyes tell of her gloom. Racing down rush hour. Who is responsible for her eternal sadness? Grace City trams trudging along, Then I realise. Stale chips drift by, Year 8 the scrape of a stick Her eyes – riding like lords. pulled along the side of a concrete wall, Could it be me? Their steeds are forcing us away. Yesterday’s newspapers Crown man nods. The houses all different The Locals Move About I am thrown into the air by shaking hands. Its survival of the fittest. colours, shapes, sizes My blade comes down onto her shivering neck. Space? So Very Fast making me jealous the steep cobbled side streets A smooth cut. There is none. …then so very slow. leading me upwards. My job is done. Space must be very weak. Musicians play in the back of a trailer. A member of the audience shouts to my holder; Footsteps pounding the makeshift stage The picture changes. Kristina “You killed her! Anne Boleyn is dead!” river dancing towards the stars. A strobe light flashing, Year 8 Revealing things I hold a rough, jagged stone in my hand Katriona That were never there. picked up on a driftwood littered shore. Year 8 Small crystals break And time moves on the surface of my skin, At twice normal speed the grit scratching. Catastrophe: Comes and goes. Seawater climbs up my arms and legs, wind fresh and sharp But life rides on. whipping them, striking down the cliffs. Excuses? I’ve no time for stragglers. Suddenly a bell rings Keep up with me... a door opens, interrupting Or fall behind. farther up the shore. It’s your choice. Drunken chatter, clinking glasses and a loud song meets my ears. I fly, chiming like the towers, Looming over the A waft of Guinness overpowers the salty taste of granite and bladderwrack, Red dragons, knocking my senses. And yellow canaries; I focus on the stony structure People-transporters arching and dipping Racing down rush hour. under a coat of soft grass, tumbling into the bright blue grass, Ella shattering and collapsing Year 8 into churning froth.
Eleanor Year 8 16 17
I can hear people making their I try to remember the way I’m in a rhythm of tidying, an odd I’m so proud of myself, I’ve actually Under the Spotlight! steady way up and down the Hannah taught me, to feel every What to do on sock here an old vest there, chuck finished without hiding rubbish corridor, the sound is strangely note, caress every key. The crowd it in the wash basket then back and clothes in spare cupboards The car judders to a halt and I an exceptionally rhythmic I feel myself lulled into is absolutely silent, listening to into the pattern. I’m climbing out of sight. I jump down the stairs start. I didn’t realise the journey an odd sense of security. me play. boring Sunday across my bed, reaching the wall and lead Mum into my bedroom, would be so short. I look up from bookshelf, my room’s so cramped practically pushing her through my knees to find three faces I am jolted awake by the sound of Mum’s preparing lunch, chopping I am more than halfway through I have the bookshelf in an alcove the door. I’ve done it! And I know I staring at me. My Sister gives a someone else finishing their piece carrots and slicing potatoes. It’s and already looking forward to the above my bed. Then I’ve got the have because I see her eyes bulge small smile, my Dad, a wink, and and it all comes crashing back. Sunday, I’m dead bored, channel end, where I give my final finale. oversized chest of draws looming and a stretched smile beam my Mum, in a slightly strained I feel as if the pressure is building flicking is getting to me. The glare over my small desk, scattered around her. I can see how pleased voice says: “come on, then. up and just when I can’t bear it any Being the last person to perform of the TV is casting shadows with paper and pens. I finish re- she is as she hasn’t already started Time to go.” longer, my time comes. has got its benefits, no more across the big room, the window is arranging my books and climb wagging her finger saying I missed waiting and I get to find out who spreading light above and around I climb out of the car with a little All of a sudden, I don’t want to go down to the floor. I pull out a out a spot – it’s hard living with a the winner is straight away. the floor and I’m just sitting on the wobble, and lurch forward, out there. I want to stay, curled up drawer I haven’t attended to in perfectionist – I now know for sure comfy leather am chair deciding tottering off like an old lady. on my chair in this box of a room And now it’s the ending! As I play years and get a mass of dust how well I’ve done and allow what boring programme to watch. where I’m safe. That’s not going to my final note, the crowd erupt in thrown in my face. I go to sneeze myself to let it sink it. This better “Wait, don’t forget your music,” No TV, I don’t want to buy the happen, though, and I can see front of me, I physically have to but I get that feeling when you have earned some pocket money! my Sister calls, holding it out. latest edition of hoover! Then myself up on that stage already, take a step back to let it all in. can’t and your nose just tingles. something clicks in my head, a “Thanks” I croak with a voice that I can’t throw that away now. I wipe my nose with a cloth and Ellie All the rest of the competitors are light’s switched on as I remember doesn’t sound like my own. start polishing spray, spray, Year 8 I take a deep breath, stand up and pouring from either side of the that thing I’ve pushed out of the wipe, wipe. An endless walk until I get to my walk back along the corridor. stage as the music dies down. way for months. changing room and I sit down. Then, suddenly I’m lugging the Standing on the edge of the stage, The judges are marching on to But I could do it now, even though hoover up the stairs, heaving it “Come on, lets sort you out” my listening to the last person name the winner and I’m standing I don’t want to. I’ll have from now through the door and plugging it Mum says. performing, I can feel my heart there wondering what to do when to three when lunch is ready giving in. The last stage of tidying, beat accelerating, I’m never good they name it as me! me five hours to do it. Achievable. I am offered the practice room, sucking up bits of fluff, crumbs with nerves. Yes, I will do it! I’ll tidy my room. but I feel that I’ve done enough of I am speechless, I can see my and thread. I unplug the hoover that already and just sit with my Now they’re clapping, I swallow parents screaming for me in the I shout to Mum as I climb the stairs and turn to do the next laborious hands clasped on my knees hard, and stumble on. back row and I shakily step slowly, venturing silently to the job but I freeze, realising that I’m waiting in my blue silky dress. forward. top, willing myself to actually be finished, I turn around to admire The stage is slippery with that just- bothered to clean the hell hole. my work when that sneeze comes. The changing room is tiny, I bet if I polished sheen and I slip. I make My acceptance speech is nothing I reach the landing and walk to the A tissue! All over my stacked stretch I’ll be able to touch both the worst mistake anyone could more than a few garbled words, as door. I shut my eyes and pause, paper blowing it everywhere! walls at the same time. The mirror and look up; thousands of shining I had not been planning to win, praying that Mum’s already But I rectify it quickly, layering is cracked and there is only one faces look back at me, stars in the just to enjoy myself. cleaned it. My hand’s on the it up again. chair. The smell of food and coffee universe that is the auditorium. The mayor shakes my hand and handle, I twist and push, revealing comes from the table. I stand up, As I fight to gain control of my says a small speech no more the smell of stuffiness and dust. but the sight is too much, now I fluttering heart, I sit down and take practiced than mine before I Where do I start? The clothes on feel sick. a shaky breath. I look up and clamber over to my parent’s the floor, the unmade bed or the begin. jubilant faces where they bear me books tossed over the shelf. off without even getting changed.
Charlotte Year 8 18 19
“The Write Team has solved my stage fright and speaking in class.”
When Gaby dashes past me, Gasping for breath, the audience Everyone Striking grabbing my arm on the way. We stands up and cheers, claps, loving I Don’t want a Lion a Pose flew through all the doors in sight. what we just did. for a Brother Then we came across a room Then walking forwards towards I’m in the car; with only my Sister I don’t want a bike for an Auntie with a massive sign outside saying the judges, the clapping dies and my Dad. She might go rusty. “STAGE”. We flung open the doors down. Waiting for them to speak. I look at Gaby, who stares back at and there stood everyone from I don’t want a lion for a Brother The judges, Simon, Piers and me with a huge grin on her face. our dance group. There were at He might eat me. Amanda all start to call out and tell I try to smile back but she knew I least one hundred of us, but we us how magnificent we were. I don’t want a wasp for a Gran wasn’t happy. Gaby gave a sigh were all silent. Going through She might sting me. and turned away. I turned also, everything in our heads. “Lovely! I’m going to say yes.” clutching my stomach, feeling Simon yelled! I don’t want a cushion for a Cousin Staring around the room. I knew some sick rising in my throat. I He might get sat on. why Gaby had dragged me here. Everyone cheered in the audience. tried to swallow vigorously, but “That must have been our number.” I don’t want a hamster for a Sister it wouldn’t go. “It’s a yes from me.” Amanda told I thought, foolishly to my self. She might get lost. us “Yes!” it was a yes from Piers! Thankfully we drove to a halt, I Just then everyone started I don’t want an orange for an Uncle clambered out of the car, feeling We all started to scream! pushing forward. We were all He might get eaten. suffocated by the seat belt I just Hugging one another, I was crying edging our way onto the had on. We were there! I was so happy. echoey floor. Feeling dizzy and sick, we head Dashing off the stage still We all stood there, huddled into the sky scraper building. screaming, a camera comes together while the oldest girls of There are lots of posters. Britain’s up to us. our dance group spoke. Telling I don’t want a pig for a Grandad got talent in big red letters them all about us. My eyes started We all holler “Were through!” surrounds us. My head starts to hurt from the blinding light that spinning from looking all around was shining in my eyes. Jasmine He might turn in to pork. us. My head sways from one sign Year 8 to another, when Gaby shoves me They had finished speaking. forward. “Dad left ages ago.” We all scuttled around the stage I don’t want an ant for a Mum She started to say. “I’ve got our until arriving in our places. She might get stepped on. form and our numbers. We need Everyone striking a pose, the to go and find everyone else.” I don’t want a cow for a Dad music beginning. He might get milked. Gaby drags me off and around Stomping and gliding all around the building in search of our the stage. Prancing leaping, never Jessica The Listening Station dance group. wanting this moment to end. Year 5 In the class it hears the squeaking of pens, We were in one of the halls, when All of us putting as much effort the flickers of book pages. the speakers start to boom a voice into it as we could. It hears the silence of children, out of them. We skidded to a halt, and the whispers of children speaking to the adults. “3461 to the stage, I repeat 3461 Then we finish. to the stage, thank you.” I took no In the music room it hears the banging of drums, notice. I started walking off again. the crashing of cymbals. It hears the high pitch of a violin, and the strumming of a guitar. In the shop it hears the chatter of people, the screaming of children. It hears the ping of tills, the clanging of money. It hears the squeaking, Of trolley wheels as they go by.
Nicole Year 5 20 21
The Listening Station Lost The Listening Station
In the music room it hears the bang of Keys they are shiny, In the music room it hears yeah laughter, the drum. where did I see them last? It hears drums bang loudly, It hears the twinkle on There are lots of keys It hears the piano tinkle. the piano. I can’t drive my car. In the classroom it hears pencils snapping, It hears the crash on It hears the quiet noise of children’s mouths, the Steel Pan. It hears the strong voice of teachers. On the farm it hears the tractor driving into the farm, In the ICT room it hears fingers tapping, It hears the cow’s go It hears hands clicking on the mouse, Moo. It hears the monitors turn on like a car engine. It hears the milking parlour going I lost my brain. ch ch ch ch. In the canteen it hears children eating, It hears the tractor raining It hears children talking, seeds on the ground. It hears dinner ladies saying come in, It hears teachers saying be quiet, In the playground it hears shouting children, It hears dinner ladies serving food, It hears the clatter of the play pod, It was painful. It hears people saying ow! It’s hot. It hears the wind as the ball Goes pass your face. In the office it hears the phone ringing, It hears people speaking on the phone, On the beach it hears the tapping of I can’t think It hears children running outside the office, the spade. what to do. It hears the door opening and closing, It hears the whoosh of I lost my clean It hears children talking to the secretary, the sea. green crispy money. It hears the secretary on the phone, It hears the lick of No more Queens stare, It hears the secretary typing on the computer. the ice-lolly. No hope of sweets. It hears the bell ring, for people to come in, At the caravan it hears the bike wheels go round. It hears people entering the office. I lost my soft It hears the running footsteps of the children cuddly teddy bear, In the medical room it hears children crying, It hears the trees blowing through our feet. as soft as my pillow It hear children upset, At home it hears the sizzling It was special to me. It hears children being sick, in the pan. It hears children singing. I lost my Mum. It hears the wooden spoon stirring Would I see her again? the curry mix. Kiera I wanted to hear her voice. It hears the plates clattering together Year 5 I rang her on my phone. and splat of the curry. She was in BHS, (British Home Stores) I was so glad to see her again. The Listening Station Tom Year 5 In the huts it hears pencils squeaking, children working in silence, James It hears children getting annoyed with maths. Year 5 In the canteen it hears the sound of crisp packets, It hears dinner ladies saying yes, It hears the sound of the knife and forks. In the ICT suite it hears the tune of the computers logging in, It hears people talking, keyboards being touched, It hears the mouse clicking on to the internet, In the swimming pool it hears waves licking the pool, It hears whistles being blown by lifeguards, People diving, splash, into the pool.
Danielle Year 5 22 23
The Listening Station The Listening Station The Listening Station I don’t want a block of
In the class room, it hears a clunk of a pencil, In the hut it hears On the football pitch the Listening Station hears people cheering, cheese for a Brother dropped by a child. teachers whacking the white board. It hears the goalkeeper kicking the ball, I don’t want a book for an Auntie, It hears the squeak of a white board pen pressing down, A child jotting things down, It hears the referee blowing his whistle. she might get worn out. It hears the bang of the door slamming, someone getting told off. In the music room the Listening Station hears children’s playing, It hears a rubber moving fiercely on the paper. I don’t want a block of cheese for a Brother, In the classroom it hears, It hears a man talking, he might go off. In the graveyard, it hears the squawk of a shallow bird, children shouting outside in P.E, It hears a drum playing. It hears the wind cackling away at the branches. children tramping around the classroom. I don’t want a wheel for a Gran, On the beach the Listening Station hears the sea rousing, It hears the sadness crawling in the air. A child yelling, people chatting, she might go flat. It hears people having fun It hears the squirrel chasing a crunchy leaf. Feet tapping on the rug. It hears children licking ice cream. I don’t want a jumper for a Cousin, In the park, it hears the children shouting for joy. In the music rooms it hears, he might get wet. In the shop the Listening Station hears people talking, It hears the adult cry for the lost child. the sound of instruments clashing, It hears the button ticking on the till, I don’t want a bell for a Sister, It hears the squeak of the old swings. Teachers walking in their heels, It hears people crunching sweets. she might get rusty. It hears the dog bark at the wrinkled tree. the bell ringing for lunch. In the canteen the Listening Station hears children plopping soup, I don’t want a cake for an Uncle, In the playground it hears Hope It hears someone scraping knives and forks, he might get eaten up. doors getting slammed! Year 5 It hears the dinner lady cleaning tables. The knock of the knee on the tarmac, I don’t want a chimney for a Grandad, Trains screeching to a stop, In the huts the Listening Station hears children talking, he might get black. Buses going up a steep hill, It hears pencil writing on a piece of paper, I don’t want a candle for a Mum, Clocks ticking all day long. It hears the teachers whispering to the child. The Listening Station she might get burnt. In the hut it hears the thump of the doors. Alexandra Scott I don’t want a box for a Dad, It hears the drip, drip from the water fountain. Year 5 Year 5 he might get broken. It hears the scratch of the pencil on the paper. I don’t want a water bottle for a friend, In the D.T. room it hears the water running. he might get drunk. It hears the chairs moving about on the floor. I don’t want a Runner The Listening Station It hears the doors slamming. Jack Bean for a Cousin In the music room it hears a crash that shakes the wall, Year 5 In the music room it hears the drums banging. It hears smooth drums shimmy. It hears people singing in groups. I don’t want a grape for an Auntie, It hears windows crackling. It hears the music teacher shouting. she might get too ripe. In the classrooms it hears the white board screen hum, In the bedroom it hears footsteps on the floor. I don’t want an old toy for a Gran, It hears the mouse clicking, It hears the dog barking at people as they go by. she might get broken. It hears people chatter and murmur. It hears people talking on the phone chatter, chatter! I don’t want a book for a Brother, he might get soggy. Matthew Jensine-Lee Year 5 Year 5 I don’t want a runner bean for a Cousin, he might disappear.
Marc I don’t want an orange for a Brother Year 5 I don’t want a glue stick for a Cousin I might get stuck to him. I don’t want a raisin for an Auntie she might be too wrinkly. I don’t want an orange for a Brother he might be too sticky. I don’t want a pen for a Gran she might run out.
Emily Year 5 24 25
“Now I can write a poem without a second thought”
The Listening Station I don’t want a Dictionary The Listening Station
In the huts it hears children, for a Gran In the huts it hears the birds calling, It hears the teachers talking, It hears the children talking, pencils squeaking, I don’t want a cupboard door for an Auntie, It hears pencils being snapped. It hears the howl of wind blowing in the trees. she might fall off. In the music room it hears drums, In the music room it hears the roar of the instruments, I don’t want a pillow for a younger Brother, It hears the sound of the CD player, It hears children singing, he might explode with feathers. It hears a tambourine. It hears the squeak of the teacher writing on the chalk board. I don’t want a dictionary for a Gran, In the playground it hears the sound of crying, On the football pitch it hears the bang of the goalie crash to the ground to save the ball, She might keep telling me how to spell things. It hears the sound of a ball, It hears the thump of feet up and down the pitch, It hears the bell. I don’t want a glass cup for a Cousin, It hears the screech of people cheering. he might break into pieces. In the football pitch it hears the sound of the crowd, Luke It hears the speed on the ball, I don’t want a ruler for a Sister, The Listening Station Year 5 It hears the whistle. she might underline all my work. In the huts it hears the children talking, In the cinema it hears the sound of popcorn, I don’t want a ball for an Uncle, It hears the rubbers banging on the paper, It hears the vibration of the speakers, he might go bounce, bounce, bounce. It hears the squeaking of the pen on the board. It hears the munch of cakes. I don’t want a pencil for a Grandad, In the music room it hears the fiddles, In the shop it hears the chink of the checkout, he might snap. It hears the teacher talking, It hears the slash of the cards, It hears the banging on the drum. I don’t want a ring for a Mum, It hears the rush of trolleys. she might be too sparkly. In the DT room it hears the paint splash on the floor, In the bedroom it hears the thump of the stereo, It hears the chair of someone pushing in, I don’t want a raisin for a Dad, It hears the crunch of toys, It hears the children whispering to each other. he might be too wrinkly. It hears the sound of the TV. In the field it hears the dogs getting the ball, In the farm it hears the moo of cows, Sarah It hears children playing, It hears the thump of the horses, Year 5 It hears the screaming of babies. It hears the crunch of the grass. In the farm it hears the tractors clunking to each other, It hears the pigs eating, Kaylum It hears the cat purring. Year 5 Sophie Year 5
I don’t want a pencil for a Grandad, he might snap 26 27
The Wedding ring If it wasn’t for sound Lion The wedding ring that Henry VIII’s wives wore If it wasn’t for sound, Your image of ferocity and defiance, I can see laughing faces from up high, Then we’d live in our own little worlds Stands as a beacon of hope to all. But betrayal behind a staring eye. A bubble of confusion not knowing where to turn. You are a black hole, No music would play and time would be wasted. Misunderstood and feared. Below, I see the birth of many Not hearing the sound of your baby Sister laughing Portrayed as the villain, I usually see the big fat belly. Or her steady heartbeat Time and time again. I feel the constant brush of skin You’d be lost in a world of unknowing. The mane you exhibit is smooth and flowing, And the constant fear within. Like a surfers favourite wave. Anna Most of all I hear the sniggers of delight Year 8 You are a leader, but also mourning of the fright. A knight in shining gold armour. I wish I was loved by only one Leading an orderly army to war, and not taken off like some dirty scum. on the barren yet habitable savannah. You are courageous and proud. My friends change from time to time You are a role model. Each one becomes divine. You are a friend. I am afraid of neglect to see the chopping of the neck. Sam Year 8 I once heard the passion of another But not dear Henry it was someone other.
Milly Year 8
The Warrior’s Gun
The rumble echoes… I wish for silence, blue sky and smiles. I feel the never ending tremble of my owner’s hand shaking with fear, I hear the moans of sinful bodies falling beneath my fire,
I see behind me, the enemy’s darkness clouding my vision of the happiness behind, I see below me, blood shed by unclean hands the bodies lie everywhere. I have friends, five of them clinging on tight to my barrel, shaking, I listen to the enemy, once I heard them running in fear, I am full of death and never ending guilt, I am afraid of release of the fingers, for then I would fall.
Bryony Year 8 28 29
Later on after she put the tent up The campsite gift shop burst into Inside Samantha her friend Jane came over and flames! The shopkeeper rolled cooked dinner on the gas stove. over the counter and kicked open …the sea, the swamping bulk. and the Fire Samantha put some pasta on the the burning door! He ran outside Inside the bulk, the speeding fury. Samantha ran down the steps boil and Jane made some tomato and stared at his gift shop. Burning of her small house in London. sauce. ‘This is delicious’ said down. Children were running away Inside the fury, the immeasurable deep. She checked her watch ‘I’m late’ Samantha from the park that was in flames. Inside the deep, the changeless calm. she thought. She swung her The bouncy castle exploded with ‘I agree’ replied Jane. backpack onto her back and a tremendous bang. Luckily no Inside the calm, the terrible current. rushed to the train station. She After dinner they ate a chocolate one was on the bouncy castle. A Inside the current, the crashing waves. had a Bath Spa ticket to see a swiss roll for pudding. man jumped out of the car he was music concert. She had designed driving, because it was on fire, the Inside the wave, the harmless foam. ‘Thanks for inviting me over’ Jane the outfits for the band! back seats were blazing in a fire. said ‘No problem’ said Samantha. Inside the foam, the sea… The car exploded just after he The train slowly came to a stop at Suddenly, out of the corner of jumped out. “My Ferrari 355” the Bath train station. Samantha Lewis Samantha’s eye she saw a flame sobbed the car owner. ran all the way to the Bath Spa. Year 8 on the tent. The flame grew bigger She stuffed the train ticket into her There was the sound of screaming and soon the tent burst into pocket and got out her purse ‘I’m sirens as the fire engine screeched flames. ‘Fire’ Samantha screamed, here to see the music concert’ said to a halt in front of them. ‘Get the waking up other campers. Samantha ‘Tickets cost £60’ She hose out’ bellowed a fireman to gave the money to the man ‘I forgot to switch the stove off’ another. They switched the pump behind the desk and walked off Samantha thought to herself on and blasted the fire with water. to the concert. At the concert, ‘What am I going to do?’ Soon the whole campsite was just The Crown Samantha met her friend Jane. Samantha yelled, panicking. piles of burnt tents and caravans ‘I’ve designed the outfits for the The fire spread across the field and campervans. I see the heads of hundreds of monarchs below me band playing tonight’ said and torched a campervan on Luckily, most of the campers were their subjects’ greedy eyes gazing from either side. Samantha. ‘I can’t wait to see the other side. insured but Samantha had to pay I see grandiose glass chandeliers and scheming siblings behind me. them ‘said Jane. ‘Get out of the van’ Samantha for some tents and equipment. I hear pleas for mercy. I hear grunts’ of response. After the concert Samantha shouted, through the window of ‘This has been an expensive I feel grubby, sweaty hands and musky, dense air. dashed to a campsite that she the van. A man and his wife jumped holiday’ Samantha said to herself. I am lavishly decorated and admired. booked. At the campsite out of the campervan door. The I wish to see a fair country with happy people. A few months later the campsite Samantha opened the old ripped window at the back of the van My friends are the flies that visit me, creeping and humming day by day. was restored and everything was rucksack. Everything shot out smashed open. A cupboard I am afraid of mistreatment and being forgotten. back to normal. Sadly, Samantha onto the grass. She switched the catapulted out of the window in I once overheard King Henry VIII cry for Catherine of Aragon while married to Jane did not have much money after torch on and started putting the flames and smashed onto the grass. Seymour. paying for damage. But she was tent together. The husband dialled 999 and asked glad the fire was over. for the fire service. ‘Great Holiday Kieron campsite is on fire’ the husband One lucky day her job gave her a Year 8 shouted down the phone. The pay rise. Samantha was happier phone dropped out of his hand than ever. She bought a bigger flat and landed on the burning grass. on the other side of London. She became the boss of Borovick ‘What have you done to the Fabrics. She lived happily ever I am lavishly decorated and admired. campsite?’ yelled the campsite after for the rest of her life! owner, running towards them. ‘It was an accident’ said Samantha, Laurence I wish to see a fair country with happy people. almost crying. People ran out of Year 8 their tents in amazement as the whole campsite burnt down. 30 31
“There was mutual curiosity and excitement, as teacher, pupils and writers were all learning from each other.”
She soon walked down the road to ‘Aggie what has happened Indigo-Ebony Real Name: So Maddie was confined to her She tried MB’s but they said they Next Step her Aunt and Uncle’s, she didn’t since last time?’ Helen Mitchell, she wears black damp, dark, dungeon for the rest would like to but they were full also really have a good relationship and purple clothes and black and of the night. She only had a bit of she tried Lush but they said they Madeline-Tulip was walking by the ‘Well, my Parents have become with them since 5 years ago, She purple make-up. dinner. But she had to unpack were over staffed, she knew this Bus Station, to get a bus heading even more strict so now I am let her 6-year-old-at-the-time everything that was her’s. Make-up, was genuine because a girl who told for Bathford where her Aunt, trapped in my own house’ ‘Jack Moonlight’ real Name: Cousin Arabella listen to her Korn clothes, posters, guitar, drum sticks her this had bright blue spiked hair Uncle and Cousins lived. She still Andrei Pernoslav, parents are and MCR CDs and soon she was ‘Well, Aggie I was thinking when I and much more. So Maddie started and piercing all over face and she had her one-way train ticket from Russian Immigrants, has a lip ring asking them what all the words in turn 18 and inherit the money and wishing her Mother hadn’t got worked there. She finally tried HMV London in her bag. She was also and his hair is light blonde on the their songs meant. They told her house and the entire company you cancer, so she would never have and the accepted her. Also she had holding her lucky crystal which her top and black on the bottom, wears never to bother them again unless can live with me’. to come to Bath and live in this hell to write her CV and hand it in to parents gave to her before they eye-liner and wears mainly Manga it was an emergency. hole. Mind you if she hadn’t she Bath College to see if she could died. At only 16 years old, she So after a couple of days the two style clothing. William Wallace, would have never made friends get in. thought she could manage the Even so they stuck her up in found out more about each other. black hair styled so he looks like a with Jack, William and Indigo bills but soon they started piling the attic. They also told her she Maddie took Aggie into town, lion/porcupine cross vampire. and also rekindled her friendship Scarlett up and she had to move from would have to earn her keep. Maddie had heard from Aggie His clothes are Manga style but with Arabella. Year 8 huge London to tiny Bath. Her But after they had gone out she where all her ‘types’ hung out. So, he claims they were inspired by Mother had left her a large fortune saw Arabella she was tall and before they went out Maddie got vampires. So anyway back to So on, the next morning Maddie to inherit when she was 18, but her had long black hair and dressed in other Band Merch the story. had a lot of things but Aggie Father died in a car crash when white-blue eyes. clothes and they headed out to couldn’t come because she had to Jack told Maddie there was a she was 10 and her Mother the stake area in Victoria Park. Of go to school and she heard Richard ‘Hi’ said Arabella nervously college in Bath, so she could study recently lost her life to cancer. course they got remarks like ‘Emo’ and Mary saying they didn’t want Art as they pretty much all did. ‘Hi, Aggie’. and ‘how are your wrists’ but they her to hang out with the ‘freak’ all of She soon caught the bus and So after that she and Aggie went ignored them. As soon as they the time. So Maddie pretty much was looking out the window ‘You know one person called me home and just in time before Uncle entered the area someone said ran around Bath all day to places dreamily, so much she nearly that. It’s nice to see you Maddie- Richard and Aunt Mary returned. ‘Oh Green Day Rocks’, to Maddie that Indigo said she may like to work missed her stop. Flower’ said Aggie. Then suddenly But when they did get back they and he took her and Aggie to at. She tried the silver shop but no she gave her a great big hug and told Maddie that she would have to meet his friends, their gang. places were available. of course Maddie gave one back. start looking for a job tomorrow, or she’ll get thrown out.
She soon caught the bus and was looking out the window dreamily, so much she nearly missed her stop. 32 33
When I wake up its light. It can’t My head is banging and my back Great Escape be too late as there aren’t many really hurts but I’ll have to make it I See… Winter people about. Then I realise where through the school day. When the The streets of London are cold I See… The old black horse I am. Slumped on the cold, dirty last bell finally rings I am faced and dark. There’s too much noise Wears his blue muddy coat floor of a bus, I look out of the with a few choices: go back to my I see blackness all around me, and I can’t sleep. I don’t know what Like a dragon. He breathes window and see loads of other house or live on the streets. I see dull metal spheres in front of me, I was thinking, I must have been Light wispy clouds. buses. The door won’t open, so I I see light at the end of an endless tunnel… mad, but I suppose home life is I stand in the school grounds when A bubble of sadness, gloom. fiddle about with the buttons until I getting too much. I don’t know I suddenly think of another choice; I Feel… His almond eyes weep, a river of wet fur realise the only way out is to break what they’ll do when they find I could go and live with my Gran. Anything that falls from the sky through the emergency exit or I feel alone out but they’ll be worried that’s She doesn’t live very far away and Falls on him. Grey droplets, you can see wait for the driver to come. After I feel the shudders of mechanisms, for sure. I could easily walk there. So with a The world in a mirror of yourself. what felt like hours of waiting I feel weights lifting as my siblings are shot away. new lease of life I grab my bag and I shiver as I wait for the bus. All the someone steps on the bus, half get going. I Smell… Group Poem pocket money I saved is shoved in asleep I sneak out whilst they’re my pocket and weighing me not looking. Later on that day I arrive at my I smell blood and tears, down. I don’t know where to go. Gran’s house and greet her with I smell burning smoke, The fresh air greets me as I step This was a stupid idea, but I really a smile on my face, knowing I smell stungent gas filling my tube… on to the concrete ground. Then can’t face going back, not with all that I could finally escape my I realise that school starts in 20 I Hear… the noise and mess, and the fact dreadful home life. minutes and I don’t know where that no-one cares for me. I hear screams and crys and orders, it is from here. Frantically I look Anna I hear bangs and explosions, It finally arrived, I have no idea around and spot a bus bearing Year 8 I hear a loud, constant whirring behind me… what time, I couldn’t find my my schools name. Without watch. I know it’s late because I thinking I run and get in whilst I Feel… can’t even see the stars or moon, the driver isn’t looking. I feel energy it’s like they’ve run away. I clamber I feel guilt onto the bus my rucksack weighs I feel pain a ton as I flop down on the first I feel nothing. available seat. Tom Year 8
The streets of London are cold and dark. There’s too much noise and I can’t sleep. 34 35
Ben got up and went back to class. Things I have lost I don’t want a monkey I don’t want a In the Library Luckily Ben had brought the only weapon that could kill a werewolf I lost my Sister’s drawing for an Auntie field for a Cousin Ben was reading a book in the into class to show that very day. something I deny, school library. He shivered as he I don’t want a football for a Brother I don’t want a vase for an Uncle The weapon was a marble egg. but when I found it once again read the book, his cheeks were as he might get kicked over the wall. he might get broken When a werewolf sees the she almost began to fly! pale as the moon. Reading in the egg it dies. I don’t want a sock for a Sister I don’t want a box for a Grandad library didn’t help, it was too quiet, I lost my Mum’s DC once she might get smelly. he might get opened. because no-one was talking, Ben held the egg up to the light, the responsibility was mine suddenly he screamed. The book the egg was red and it sparkled. and I found it in the garden I don’t want a light for an Uncle I don’t want bread for a Mum he was reading was a horror book. on the washing line! he might run out of batteries. she might get jammed. Mrs War walked into the It was about a werewolf. For the classroom. She froze, rooted to I lost my way in the bookshop I don’t want a fish for a Grandad I don’t want a field for a Cousin benefit of the reader I will now the spot, she stared at the egg. but then my Mum came down he might get caught. he might get built on. describe Ben. Ben had rosy Next week there was a funeral when I told her what had happened cheeks, ginger hair, a short nose, I don’t want an apple for a Mum but everybody was happy. Four her smile turned into a frown. Nina blue eyes and blood red lips. she might get eaten. months later four big grey wolves Year 4 But if I lost my pure gold necklace A hand came down on his stood over the grave of Mrs War. I don’t want an orange for a Dad I don’t know how I’d cope shoulder. It was Mrs War the There was silence. he might get squishy. I think I’d find it someplace school librarian. She was grinning, Like under my lavender soap. I don’t want monkey for an Auntie not a friendly grin, but a mean Sam she might eat all the bananas grin, a werewolf’s grin. Year 4 Isobel Year 4 Olivia Year 4
She was grinning, not a friendly grin, but a mean grin, a werewolf’s grin. 36 37
Possible Presents I don’t want a Turkey I Don’t Want a Fire Possible Presents
The excitement of the first day of school, for a Gran For An Auntie The sound of whispering willows The feeling when you know Blowing in the wind. I don’t want a pencil for an Auntie I don’t want a pencil for a Brother something good is going to happen. she might get too sharp. he might get blunt. The sound of peace and quiet Accidentally squirting A sunny breeze on your face. I don’t want a ruler for a Brother I don’t want a cat for a Gran talcum powder all over the bathroom. he might be too short. she might runaway to Spain. The smell of fresh bread cooling When your dog turns into a hot water bottle. On the window sill. I don’t want a turkey for a Gran I don’t want a piece of cake for a Sister Just sitting there blissfully she might get cooked. she might get eaten. The sight of a peaceful meadow. saving all your pocket money and feeling like a millionaire. A deserted tree in autumn. I don’t want a pen for an Uncle I don’t want a sock for an Uncle Esme he might run out. he might get smelly. The soft music of a ballad Year 4 The sight of whirling leaves and shiny conkers. I don’t want a book for a Dad I don’t want a wall for a Grandad The smell of pizza, sweet corn and onion. he might not make sense. he might get painted. I don’t want a fire for an Auntie Siana Ben she might get too hot. Year 4 Year 4 I don’t want a handbag for a Mum she might get lost I don’t want a ball for a Dad he might get kicked over the wall.
Jody Year 4
I don’t want a chicken for a Gran
I don’t want a chair for a Brother The excitement of the first day of school, he might get sat on. I don’t want a chicken for a Gran she might get peckish. The feeling when you know I don’t want spaghetti for a Cousin he might go a bit twirly. I don’t want a computer as an Uncle something good is going to happen. he might log off as I am using him. I don’t want a car as a Sister she might roll away.
Greg Year 4 38 39
“The children are more imaginative and willing to read work aloud or perform on a stage”
Possible Presents I don’t want a spider The Listening Station I don’t want a lamppost
The Christmas jumper left in a cupboard for a Grandad In the staffroom the Listening Station for a Brother ready for the next year. hears the crack of biscuits being broken in half. I don’t want a flame for a Gran I don’t want a biscuit for an Auntie It hears coffee being gulped by thirsty teachers The sinking of sand under your feet. She might burn she might get digested. It hears the door lock for the night. on a deserted beach I don’t want chocolate for a Cousin I don’t want a Grandmother made of clay In the classroom the Listening Station The feeling of saying something that I might eat him. she might get put in a kiln. hears children drop off to sleep hasn’t even happened. I don’t want a plum for a Sister It hears the teacher shout, waking them up. I don’t want a crash test car for my Grandad The glow of the sun on your face. She might get squished. He might get heart broken In the music room the Listening Station The touch of the wind blowing through your hair on a cliff. I don’t want an orange for an Uncle hears the ching of a piano I don’t want an army bunker for a Mum A warm hug and the thump of your hear beating slowly. He might get peeled. It hears the strum of a guitar She might get blown up by my Sister It hears the crash of a drum I don’t want a spider of a Grandad I don’t want a lamppost for a Brother Daisy I might get stuck in his web. a dog might leave a surprise on him. Year 4 Jo Year 4 Jack Oliver Year 4 Year 4 Zack
…is red He is late at night I don’t want an He is a chocolate cake with creamy swirls onion for a Gran He is a pair of leather jeans He is a Ferrari I don’t want a bird for a Cousin He is Florida he might fly away He is a ticket for a wrestling match. I don’t want a spider for a Sister She will start to eat flies Matthew Year 4 I don’t want an ant for an Uncle He might get crushed.
Omar Year 4 The Listening Station
In the staffroom the Listening Station hears tales of murder it hears the repetitive whirring of the photocopier it hears the sighs of teachers weary of patience. In the lunch hall the Listening Station hears the deafening roar of hundreds of lion cubs. It hears the clang and bang of formica on stilts.
It hears the crackle and crunch of tantalising treats.
Rebecca 40 41
I don’t want a bean for my Cousin
I don’t want a Robin Hood book for my Uncle the reader might get a bit rough or playful. I don’t’ want a plastic wrestling figure for my Auntie she might get caught in a head lock. I don’t want a chicken for my Brother lots of people eat chicken.
I don’t want a bean for my Cousin whoever eats him might get gassy. I don’t want a shoe for my Grandma as the foot might not fit.
Cameron Year 4
He is She is Lara… The Listening Station
…sky blue She is pink and purple stripes In the staffroom the Listening Station He is midnight She is the early morning sun hears a sigh of happiness as a back lands on a cushion. He is spicy prawn linguini She is a sweet grapefruit It hears lips sipping tea. He is a crisp leather jacket She is a stripy swimming costume In the classroom the Listening Station He is a Bugatti Veron with black leather seats She is a pink limousine with soft pink furry seats. hears the soft chatter of lessons. He is Hawaii She is the country of ginormous Russia It hears the scraping of pencil to paper. He is an exciting surprise She is the fun surprise at every party It hears a list of instructions for the children to follow. He is a fighter jet whizzing through the air. She is the dripping of rain It hears the children snoring. He is a speed boat skimming over the sea She is a sweet shop around every corner It hears the soft tapping of fingers on a keyboard. He is a skate board doing tricks in a skate park She is the wellie in the puddle He is a lightening strike hitting the spire of a tower. She is the story of shining Cinderella. Scarlett Year 4 Theo Amber Year 4 Year 4 42 43
Suddenly Sylvester turned But I was a shifter and I could jump Some where under around Fred dived behind from place to place, and I had to The Crown some pipe working find out what it was. I jumped the busy streets I see the ceiling, decorated with creatures of all kinds through the air ten times faster Fred crept around the corner. Delicate beams of light around me. Fred was in a dark damp water than the speed of light, to a He crouched behind some pipe works. He was following Sylvester suspended platform above him. I see people, both tall and short, workings for a few minutes. the mass criminal, an important He had some sort of liquid in a Their heads bowed beneath me Then he crept behind the pipes man to the American government. tube and something that The red curls covering their feet. following Sylvester. He stopped He was visiting London, well to appeared to be salt but it would and wondered where they already I feel the air stick to me commit a crime obviously!! Fred not be that it was some kind were, all he knew was that they Making me warmer and warmer. used his special camera to pear of chemical. were somewhere under London’s around the corner, this was a I smell the feast busy street what did Sylvester Suddenly I realised that the pipe special camera it sent all of the they are about to consume. want here? Maybe under line we were next to was private. images to his P.D.A. The camera It is laid out on the table like a picture Buckingham Palace, maybe that’s It must be going to some where was a tiny thing it was about a Waiting to be disturbed. what Sylvester was up to no good. important like the Houses of centimetre and a half long and He was doing something to the Parliament or Buckingham I shine with all my might razor thin. It was descried as a water pips my first thought was Palace what could Sylvester Dragging attention towards my beauty. metric A.C adapter so it can be he was trying to cut the supply of want with this? connected to his laptop for I hope to be like my Brothers and Sister London’s water. But then I thought example. As he peered around the As I looked down on to the pipe Pass through generations. logically, he would not bother corner he caught a gimps of some line I noticed a little golden plate I It would be splendid doing that it was most probably thing it startled him but it turned could not really make out what it To see the world pass on with me poison as he pulled something out to be a rat! But he double said. Then I looked at it again from his rucksack. A small pot of checked there was nothing their through my special spy camera’s Olivia something but I could not make then he creped around the corner it read ‘Buckingham Palace’. I800 Year 7 out what it was. to follow Sylvester. Fred had and in 100x and I could just about brought his listening device with make out a hall-mark it was him but he wasn’t going to need it real gold. on this particular occasion The Minotaur’s Horn because every thing echoed even Luke the water dripping out of the worn Year 8 I can see the corridor getting darker as it gets further away. seals of the pipes every drop I know every way around the labyrinth. was heard. Behind me cracks of light seep in from the day outside. I can hear water dripping from the ceiling, I can hear a deep angry breath, I can hear the sharpening of blades, I feel pain as a sharp rock presses against my side. I feel scared but I’m ready to fight.
I long to soak myself in my enemy’s blood I admire the dagger that my enemy uses. I fear being broken, separated or unused. I have heard the drip of blood as it seeps from a human neck.
Mikali Year 8 44 45
“Instead of football or girls being the hot topics, writing is at the heart of their relationships – they meet and talk about stories. Brilliant!”
Things were not going as she She scrabbled and clawed into the And here she’d found it. Friends don’t stand planned. Already, her heavy dirt. First she touched the smooth The casket’s existence, and its clothes were claggy and chafing. surface, then she started to see it, contents, would be revolutionary The blue sky defends itself from clouds. The green Wellingtons tripped a dull gold gleaming surrounded – would stun and amaze. The We do the opposite, under roots and stumbled into by soil. As she rubbed away more greatest find in year, and so close we invade barbarian land. holes. It had rained sometime and more earth, she could see the all this time. She might have Rip down their walls before, and although the earth shape there – the rounded ends of stumbled across it at any point. Mark their land with my wheels had begun to dry, everything was the casket, the dirt-dimmed glow The rains could have washed it Make it Roman land. still messy. like warmth under her hands, the into view. An earthquake could I smash down the gate in front grubby line that marked the lid, have thrown it up above ground, It cannot hold! The map in its plastic wallet had the dogged hinges… she could or smashed it away forever. lied to her and mislead her. Three Behind me Roman men shout not open it in these conditions, times she’d thought she was in the She stood hands on hips, “Barbarians! Barbarians with no honour!” though she hungered to see. right place. Three times she’d dug watching the blue tarpaulin My friends I shall not fail them! down and down until she’d had to She stopped. She dared not try stretched beneath the tree. She I move towards the gate throw aside her shovel with a to prise the whole thing from the did not know whether to stay or I shall hit it soon. metallic curse. earth by herself. She didn’t know go. She half wanted to stand AHHH! if it was too heavy, if it would guard all night, and half wished This must be it, surely? If not… Arrows, flaming arrows! crumble to dust – to gold dust she had not dug it up today. It if not she’d have to continue on Friends help me, pulling out the flaming demons out of the soil. She grabbed her would have been better, perhaps, and on; but the whole world that could destroy me. camera and photographed the to discover it with an audience and was beneath her – how could scene from every angle. Her boots a dramatic flourish. Anxiety would But I do not fear death she ever be expected to find the squelched as she darted round the prey on her now. What if someone I fear losing my friends right place? Luck would surely site. She had to send the images, spotted it? What if they doubted be required. WHACK! and quickly. She needed to cover the authenticity of the pictures? I hit the gate She started to dig, turfing aside the area, to protect what she had What if one of the professors WHACK WHACK WHACK! shovelfuls of damp earth, found until the professors arrived. claimed it as their find? It would I keep hitting the gate weighted down with grey stones. She had to be patient, to await her not be easy to explain why she had With one fine hit I knock it open. Around her, the wind ruffled the moment of glory in every history the map, how she had the map. autumn leaves and the birds journal in the world its existence til My men charge through pushing me out of the way Far of in the distance was the sighed in the trees. Slack! The now was little more than a rumour, I stand still sound of a car passing, unaware blade of her spade slotted against a promise, a half-forgotten shard All around me I hear metal clanging. of what had reappeared out of something hard and buried deep. of knowledge debated by experts Minutes pass, still nothing the earth. A squirrel shot through Throwing aside the spade she in dusty studies and odd corners I hear someone shout “Withdraw!” the trees. threw herself down. of universities and museums. From All I can do is hope it is the enemy. time to time a party would try to She stood, uneasy, as the light I was wrong. locate it, using some map began to fade, still undecided My men run away. obtained in peculiar places. No- whether to stay or go. No it can’t be! It can’t! one had come close. Just more They run to the hills whispers, more rumours. Lois All I can do is sit! Days pass I sit here A battering ram sitting in the field. Whack! a ram half buried in the earth
Louis Year 7 I hit the gate WHACK WHACK WHACK! 46 47
The Overseer
I can see the ever dancing fire, Delicate embroidery on my ladies skirt, When I look up I see the diamond encrusted chandelier. There’s the constant ticking of the Grandfather clock, The sweet song of the bluebird, perching in her nest, And the distant clattering of the dishes in the kitchen.
I can feel the softness of a royal hand, the warmth of the nearby fire, I’m so proud to be forever by the royal family. I came from a master craftsman, He can cut the prettiest of gems. Paul is the director without him of me from nowhere, expressing But I wish to be more pretty, Talk talk I wouldn’t have a clue what to do. things I’ve never thought before, to stand out from the crowd, I stand up, slightly shaking, trying touching emotions I don’t I’m surrounded by strangers I’ve to look oh, so attractive, not to wobble, scared of falling normally feel. Meeting new people never met before. All of them are and make my owner proud. over and embarrassing myself that I instantly have to decide making a fuss over me. “Put some before I’ve even got to the stage. whether I should believe or not. I admire many things, more spray on her hair. Get her a It is just around the corner now. Trying to interpret what type of diamonds, rubies and pearls, drink, she looks thirsty.” I turned and there I can see where people actually are to dig deeper I’m still afraid of being lost, My mouth is dry, I can barely speak I’d wanted to be my whole life. beyond the words they’re saying, forgotten in the dark, my palms are sweaty. I can see I took a deep breath and say having only seconds to respond to kept away in a box, covered in marks. pink near enough everywhere I quietly “you can do this,” then I what they’ve just heard. The buzz I once heard her talking, look, everything’s clean and walked out on to the stage. of all the excitement felt good, one new jewellery, sparkly I have my own mirror and Hundreds of eyes are watching I haven’t felt in a while and ruby rings, pearl necklaces even chair. If I stand up right now and that’s only the ones I can see. nowhere near as strong. does she really need these things? my legs would probably give way. Plenty more would be watching I’ve never wanted something so me at home. I open my mouth, Lily I am the elegant sapphire ring, much before and now I can finally in doubt for a split second, but Year 8 glistening upon my ladies hand, achieve it. “Its time,” said Paul. then feel the words coming out Chantelle Year 7 48 49
“No!” she cried. Several people “I don’t need no one’s help, I know Matt was an assassin his last two Matt just had himself, his pathetic The Toy Elephant turned to stare at her grimacing what I’m doing” called Sonlab’s The Parcel missions had been for M15, excuse for a flat and his mates. He at her harsh damaged skin, the voice full of hysteria as she ran off working in Russia, his target was a was playing football in the park Sonlab threw the toy elephant It was getting dark when he was burns only just healing. They into the shadows. Sonlab saw a Russian MP double crossing the when he saw a man the same age she had had as a child across the going home around 6ish. The looked bewildered, almost scared small alleyway, looked around, KGB and EU, he enjoyed roaming as him, in a suit, nice watch and the room. It was white ivory with an evening was warm, with a bright at the tone of her voice. Sonlab took her opportunity and ran the cold snowy streets of Moscow, car he always wanted, a BMW M5, intricate pattern of flowers around orange sun set behind the trees. walked on quicker hoping that no down into it. She knew this day but knew the Russians were not to and that’s when he realised he had the body, it smashed into oblivion He always knew when another one had noticed always looking would come but Sonlab thought be trusted. Matt had joined the to do something with his life and as it hit one of the others. mission was coming as it was over her shoulder. Though she she wouldn’t feel like this. Is this army at 18 following his Brother’s he had to do it now. The next day Everything reminded her, nothing always delivered by a courier, just knew all right that they had all where she wanted to go: a dark, footsteps. He managed to join the he went to the nearest army let her forget. People had told her a parcel, but always the same seen. She staggered as the lights shadowed alleyway littered with intelligence corps. He completed a recruitment office. it was good to remember but company. There was a parcel by flickered in her head, the rubbish? Then again feelings survival course lasting 12 months, that’s not how she was feeling the door. Matt took it to the screaming returning. Sonlab didn’t matter to Sonlab anymore; which was tougher than the Luke right now. kitchen and unwrapped it. In it he couldn’t take it – the memories, nothing did. She pulled out her world’s worst school dinner. And Year 8 found a clip on neck strap, the She picked her shoulder bag up the grief all returning, always late Father’s screwdriver. The only from then on things were pretty type used to carry ID by sales reps and made her way to the temple there never fading. thing to remember him by – the straight forward after joining the or school staff. He also found a (the Hindu temple). As she only thing left. She paused for a army that was. Before that he was “Y’al right mi lover?” A woman contact card for Mr David Garner, stepped out into the street the moment as if to think, took a all over the place in jail all the time, reached to touch her, to help her and lastly a Churchill Insurance wind battered her rough, stubble deep breath and thrusted it no money, just a messed up life. “Leave me alone” Sonlab shouted letter, and his briefing. ridden shaven head – the burning into her vein. “Don’t touch me” The woman’s returning into her mind. The traffic touch had brought her back to was busy as Sonlab made her way Jenny earth. Though Sonlab didn’t know through the estate and several Year 8 which was worse: the real life or comments flew out of car her hellish flashbacks, she realised windows. Every one of them sent it was all a nightmare. The woman a tingle of a shiver down her spine looked shocked at the strange but her anger only seemed to be girl’s rudeness. She also saw the rising. She was angry at life, she pained expression on the was angry at girl’s face. the world but most of all she was angry at God. “Call me – if y’need any ‘elp, I’m always up for a chat.” As she approached the temple she realised more and more that The woman slipped something the temple is not where she into Sonlab’s bag – it looked a train wanted to be. Sonlab had always ticket, but then Sonlab realised it been proud of her faith and culture was her number. – or at least had tried to be. The voice rippled through her head “No one ever said it was going to be easy, I’ll always be here with you Sonlab” “Y’al right mi lover?” A woman reached to touch her, to help her 50 51
Wonder of the World
I can see the clear blue sky – not a cloud in sight, I can see curves of heat coming off the burning sand, I can see a city of men and women working in the scorching sun, I feel the smooth granite all around me, I can feel waves of heat lightly touching me, The fine chisel marks on me. I am made of granite from an ancient quarry, One mile away from where I am now, Carefully chiseled to perfection, I had one hundred and ten friends, But now I have only three all are smaller than me,
Six Reasons to Forgive Me
Is it my fault? When what created me I am over three thousand years old, Hates me? When my rage burns I cannot control it. I fear people will destroy me, Is it my fault? When what destruction I cause Is nothing compared Mark me for life, To that which machines Have achieved? My sides are now not smooth any more. Is it my fault? They choose to compete with me I’m rising to the challenge. Is it my fault That my home in hell Had been taken from me I wish for nothing more, So I’m transporting earth’s creations to my world of black I have what I want. Is it really my fault? I am the pyramid for the tomb of Tutankhamen. Chloe Elliot Year 8 Year 8 52 53
“I now enjoy writing descriptions and poems. I hope to keep on writing after this project”.
I don’t want a I don’t want a plum The Listening Station toothbrush for a Sister for a Grandad In the playground the Listening Station hears a giggle from the corner It hears a cheer from the football pitch. I don’t want a sponge for an Auntie I don’t want a cat for an Auntie It hears a sudden whistle – the end of play. She might get soaked. She might scratch. In the staffroom the Listening Station hears the slurping of tea I don’t want a hairdryer for a Mum I don’t want a knife for a Brother It hears the deep laugh of the male teachers She might get too hot. He might cut. It hears the chattering of teachers as they fall into conversation. I don’t want a kettle for a Brother I don’t want a tomato for a Gran In the car park the Listening Station hears the rumble of engines He might boil over. She might pop. It hears the faint sound of the playground I don’t want an apple for a Gran I don’t want a swede for a Cousin It hears a goodbye from people going. She might go rotten I might eat him. Joe I don’t want a toothbrush for a Sister I don’t want a remote for a Sister Year 5 She might get dizzy She might change channel.
I don’t want a chocolate bar for a Cousin I don’t want a candle for an Uncle She might get eaten. He might melt. I Lost My Sense I don’t want a hamster for an Uncle I don’t’ want a plum for a Grandad of Direction He might bite me. I might make him into a sauce. I lost my sense of direction I don’t want a chair for a Grandad I don’t want broccoli for a Mum While I was on my way to detention. He might get squished. She might get cooked. It was off to the right I turned to the left I don’t want a ruby for a Dad Sophie And ended up on top of a kite. He might get smashed. Year 5 After a few days Eleanor I got off the kite Year 5 I wrote this poem with my left hand Instead of my right.
Daniel Year 5
I don’t want broccoli for a Mum She might get cooked. 54 55
The Listening Station I don’t want a harmonica I don’t want a soufflé
In hears the crunching of leaves as children stamp on them as if they were in deep woods. for a Grandad for a Dad It hears balls being bounced. I don’t want a grape for a Cousin I don’t want an olive for a Brother It hears a small child whack onto the ground. He might turn into wine. He might get stuffed. It hears an ear splitting scream. It hears the splash of children playing in the puddles. I don’t want a football for an Auntie I don’t want a bowl of custard for an Auntie She might pop. She might get lumpy. In the staff room it hears tea being sipped slowly by exhausted teachers. It hears lessons being plotted. I don’t want a bunny slipper for a Brother I don’t want a grape for a Gran It hears biscuits being crunched. He might bite my toes. She might shrivel up. It hears teachers whispering secrets the children never hear. I don’t want a satsuma for a Gran I don’t want a sprout for a Cousin She might squirt juice at me. He might give out gas. James Year 5 I don’t want a harmonica for a Grandad I don’t want a squirrel for a Sister He might go out of tune. She might go nuts. I don’t want a game for a Sister I don’t want a banana for a Grandad I don’t want a computer I Don’t Want An Onion She might get lost. He might unpeel. for a Sister For A Cousin I don’t want a computer for an Uncle I don’t want a chocolate for a Mum He might get a virus. She might be too sweet. I don’t want a car for a Grandad I don’t want a tooth for an Auntie I don’t want a flag for a Mum I don’t want a soufflé for a Dad, He might lose his wheel. She might get knocked out. She might get blown over. He might sink. I don’t want a bed for a Brother I don’t want a saucepan for a Brother I don’t want a piece of garlic for a Dad He might be uncomfortable. He might get burnt Sarah He might get crushed. Year 5 I don’t want a cup for an Auntie I don’t want a grape for a Gran She might break. She might get drunk. Anna Year 5 I don’t want a banana for a Gran I don’t want an onion for a Cousin She might go soggy. She might make people cry. I don’t want a music player for an Uncle I don’t want a hedgehog for an Uncle He might blow up. She might prickle me. I don’t want a computer for a Sister I don’t want a star for a Grandad She might crash. He might dazzle me. I don’t want a sprout for a Cousin I don’t want a pen for a Mum He might taste horrible. She might get inky.
Shannon Year 5 I don’t want a potato for a Dad. He might get mashed.
Ella Year 5 56 57
The Listening Station
In the playground the Listening Station hears the ball hurry past, It hears screaming and shouting It hears the apples dropping from the tops of the trees In the playground you can sit down and hear a whole lot of sound:
Sometimes it is annoying I Don’t Want A Clock I don’t want a snake For A Cousin for a Sister.
I don’t want a gun for a Sister I don’t want a match for a Brother Sometimes it is fun We would be the cartridge family. he might burn. I don’t want a birdhouse for an Auntie I don’t want glue for an Auntie She might get left outside. She might get stuck. In the staffroom the Listening Station hears the teachers laughing and chattering I don’t want sunburn for a Brother I don’t want blue cheese for an Uncle In the kitchen it hears the clanging of spoons and knives. It would really hurt. He might smell. I don’t want a kiwi for a Gran I don’t want coca-cola for a Grandmother Adam What an old bird she would be. She could go flat. Year 5 I don’t want clock for a Cousin I don’t want a bath for a Cousin She might get loads of ticks. He might get cold. I don’t want a dalek for an Uncle I don’t want a snake for a Sister He would only watch Doctor Who She might get snappy. I don’t want a warthog for a Grandad I don’t want to a cuckoo clock for a Grandad He would be a pig. He might go cuckoo. I don’t want a fish for a Mum Tom She might be full of bones. Year 5 I don’t want a badge for a Dad He might get pinned down.
Joe Year 5 58 59
The Listening Station I don’t want a computer The Listening Station
In the playground the Listening Station hears the ball bouncing on the ground. for an Auntie In the playground It hears the children making a noisy sound. It hears the smack of a child falling, I don’t want a clock for a Brother It hears the children’s yells which make the grown ups bristle. It hears jumping up and down of excited children, He might go tick tock. In the playground the Listening Station hears Miss Elliot blow a whistle It hears the high pitched screaming and giggling of I don’t want a banana for a Gran girls, In the staffroom it hears the crunch of toast She might get squished. It hears boys cheering once they score a goal. It hears tea being slurped and cups being crashed together It hears biscuits being nibbled and teachers talking. I don’t want a cabbage for a Cousin In the staffroom He might turn green. It hears the teachers slurping hot tea on a cold Billy winters morning. I don’t want a shark for a Sister Year 5 She might eat me. Rachel I don’t want a pig for an Uncle Year 5 The Listening Station He might snort. I don’t want a bird for a Grandad In the staffroom the Listening Station hears teachers making cups of tea He might coooh! It hears doors opening I don’t want an iron for a Mum It hears feet walking She might burn my top. In the kitchen the Listening Station hears knives dropping on the floor I don’t want a violin for a Dad It hears taps gushing He might be tone deaf. It hears steam swoosh from the oven I don’t want a computer for an Auntie In the playground the Listening Station hears the children screaming like mice She might crash It hears balls bouncing on the ground It hears the thwaking of apples in the bin Laura Year 5 Jade Year 5 The Listening Station
In the playground it hears girls giggling like mice It hears teachers talking It hears boys shouting as they score a goal. In the staffroom it hears the slushing of coffee It hears the Head Teacher laughing It hears the munching of biscuits.
In the kitchen it hears the grrrrr of the mixer It hears the banging of plates And the chef on the phone.
Tom Year 5 60 61
“Seeing such a shy boy perform on stage at the egg and in front of his year group was just fantastic – he was buzzing about it for a long while afterwards”
A Good Cause
Lies flow out of my mouth. “Of course I’m sure,” I say. “It was definitely him.” It’s for a good cause. It’s for a good cause. I can’t stop the words looping inside my head. I have to justify what I’m doing. Thank God she keeps looking away, hugging Button Bear. I couldn’t do it if she kept staring at me with those sad, brimming eyes “I was walking home, because I couldn’t ask Mum for a lift; not without telling her where I’d been. So I come to the end of Green Street, and I spot him. I know it’s him because he’s wearing that coat.
Remember when Mum was decorating the house and he walked in and got paint all up his sleeve?” She nods. “It’s still there,” I say. “It was definitely him.” “Did you speak to him?” she says. The hope in her voice and the tearful sniff almost break me. But I keep going. It’s for a good cause. “He spoke to me,” I say. “He turned around and he saw me, standing on the corner, with my mouth hanging wide open, because it was him. It was Dad.” “What did he say?” she asks. I take a deep breath. I need it. She’s looking at me again. “He came over and he said, ‘Is that my girl?’ and I nodded. ‘Is your Sister with you?’ he said “He asked about me?” She’s smiling. The interruption throws me for a second. “Uh, yeah. Yes, of course he did.” Her smile grows. So does my guilt. It’s for a good cause. It’s for a good cause. “What else did he say?” she asks. “He asked about school and stuff, and if Mum’s okay.” “Is he coming to see us?” This is it. The heart breaker. But it’s for a good cause. “He said he loves us, more than we could ever imagine possible. More than anything,” I pause and wish I hadn’t. It gives her hope. “But he’s never coming back. He’s going away because he doesn’t want to make us, or Mum, sad again.” I explain a bit more. Making up why he thinks it’s for the best. After a week, she stops looking out of the window. After another, she stops jumping up every time the phone rings. The guilt starts to ebb away. It was for a good cause.
Felicity 62 63
I lie down my surf board, I look up I can see the land. I am so happy. The Dusty Road: The Harvest Moon: My Great Escape the perfect wave is heading my Relieved. I step of the fishing boat way. I get ready to go. I’m gone, on to solid ground. Seeing my Drawing Of A Drawing of a ‘Pastoral Scene’ I’m walking down the beach, I’m doing great, I am so proud of family reminds me of how much I clouds gathering above my head, ‘Rural Scene’ by Samuel Palmer my self thinking I have proved my love them. Later that evening I my pink surf board trailing behind friends wrong. The fog is getting think to myself what has happened, by Munkacsy Mihaly I would love to me. Saying bye, not knowing if it worse, beginning to think why I am I say “It could only happen to me”. jump into that might be the last time I say this. I would love to ride doing this. I feel a sharp tug on my picture. The waves are crashing on the upon the cart clothes thinking it’s my friends I Annie wet, cold beach. I tried to get out to spare my weary legs. Silver and gold leaves carry on. Suddenly I see a fin, then Year 8 of doing this but I knew I had to do at night two and then three. I’m feeling To see the thin trees battered, it for the girls. I’m hoping the mist midnight, stars sparkle. really apprehensive. Wondering while I am safe will clear so I can see were I’m whether I would survive. I’m trying for now at least. People shifting corn heading. As I walk closer to the sea to keep all my body on my board. surrounded with flowers I feel like it is running further away Soon we shall reach home, green to purple. from me. My heart is pounding I have been hanging on for what but I will walk telling me to go back to the safety seems like hours. My body’s just in the eye of the story. Yellow to blue of the beach, but my brain is about to give up. I can see a small the sky I would see the monstrous cloud saying do this you can’t chicken boat in the distance. It’s coming changes colour. and ask thou Lord out, wimp. my way. I can’t control my Why it had to choose me. I would love to I know I should go with my heart excitement, I know I can’t give up walk in that beautiful valley however I can’t. I made a bet that now even though I am freezing. I would long for the ploughman to take charge of the sheep. girls can surf as well as boys. My body is shaking. I wait to be to hear him talk cheerfully My so called friends are egging rescued, wanting to give up. in long slow Dorsetian. I would lead them to me on. Sarah is bossing me The boat is in eye distance, I am a magical place While I drenched, would trip around like usual, Sam is quiet too, beaming with delight. It sees me. let them roam and bathe in mud, and Fiona is flirting with Ben. In A man asks me if I need help I where the sun and moon shine It’s stench drowning me. return Ben is playing Fiona’s game. respond quickly. I’m being pulled at the same time. Despite all the chaos, I step into up to safety. I can now breathe. I would pick myself up. the moist, gloopy sand my feet are Stagger on Shannon sinking, feeling like I am stuck with longing for the ploughman. Year 8 my feet glued on the floor. He would protect me But the only thing now Is nothing, nothing at all. I would find an inn. I would stay there hoping for another ploughman.
Samuel Year 8 My body is shaking. I wait to be rescued, wanting to give up. 64 65
Black cupped in Red 10 Views of Teaching
I can see the great sky with it’s fluffy fellows. You can take a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink. Behind me, I can see narrow paths underground and a hedgerow with a brown gate. Horse, you can make it to water but you can’t take a drink Below me, I can see a half buried helmet of those who helped me grow. Take a can’t to water, it can drink you make you horse but Drink can make you a horse, but it can’t take you to water ‘What is the difference between them?’ I hear a tourist say over the peace and quiet so long ago. You can’t water a horse, but it can make you take to drink Can you drink a horse to water, make it take you but can’t I feel the gentle breeze rocking me side to side. you take it, water can’t make a horse drink to you but can I feel happy that I am a positive from a negative. horse you to take it water can’t make a drink, but you can. I feel my black centre – symbolic flower – cupped in the red blood of those who fought for me. Water, horse can’t take to you but you can make it a drink. Drink can’t take a horse to water, but it can make you you. I wish for an end of casualties and clashes. My friends are my fellow people and those who pay for me every year. Matthew I am afraid of a never ending clash of countries. I overheard the cheers of the British people And I am still great friends with Flanders.
Sam Year 8
Henry VIII’s Clock
I can see a highly decorated ceiling I can see glowing stained glass windows. I can see solid carved paving stones.
I can hear birds singing away in the trees and the murmur of voices. I was made by the finest hands. I long to meet the man with diamonds on his clock face, My friends are the hands that polish me. I once heard them say Anne will be executed today.
Alex Year 8 66 67
“The children are more imaginative and willing to read work aloud or perform on a stage”
“I have the best plan ever. I’m I wake up the next morning and Six foot five giants in Converse They have wheels and the humans My Great Escape going to sneak out.” I say excitedly. grab the curtains. I swing them My Great Escape trainers attack me as the humans are inside them. Technology to the open. A big grin arises upon my get on with their everyday life. masses. And now there are more It’s my work break. I’ve had a I whisper my plan to them and I look down from the heights, face. It is sunny and day, I am glad. We are the scavengers of the food boxes. Moving along big concrete boring morning and am feeling they agree to help me out by families trundling about the place As for my ‘keenness’, I am already chain, the runts, us the seagulls. paths. I may make mistakes but I’m like such an idiot for taking this job, ‘disposing’ of the boss’ assistant, with their picnic baskets and wind leaving the house before my new to it come on give me a break. a gruelling five years. I, for once, Pat. The only problem with my breaks. I loom over them, the I rise into the air and soar around family even wake up! I arrive at my The adrenaline starts pumping sit down at the work bench where plan is that the weather needs to annoying pests. I have opinions in the misty clouds. The young office on time (for once) my plan is and the fear ticks inside me I look the nerds, I mean people who like be hot, very hot. I’ll just wait until too you know. They get on my children with their buckets and about to be put into action. First, at all the marvellous things. It’s work, can sit down and do more tomorrow. nerves. Why can’t they go away? spades and parents having to tell I have to do a piece of work which more than the crummy sea and work. But I’m not going to do any They are so rude. Whoosh!! I land them to shut up. I have to put up I arrive home after a ‘busy’ day of doesn’t feel like work. I decide to the endless piles of yellow sand. I work. Oh no. I’m going to figure on the sandy beach, the granules with this every day. They come work. I say hello to my family but arrange all my files (secretly wipe it from my tiny memory and out my great escape. of sand between my feet. There is and go but I stay put. The seagull then I rush upstairs. My family is magazines) into different orders think about all the marvellous the kingdom, the succulent smell, of Sidmouth beach. I want to go Break’s over. Everyone returns surprised at the fact that I never while Guy took a photo of me and things I’m going to see. All the my tummy gurgles. A giant box of and see places but to the superior back to their offices frowning, rush anywhere, because I am so stuck it on the security camera. best things I could wish for. At last chips, I stare endlessly at it; I am race of this world I am just a bird, except for Pat, who is the assistant fat. But I’m not fat, I’m just big After that, I ask if he had ‘disposed’ I am free from the beach’s grasp. going in for the kill. But then a an excuse, a seagull. I don’t have a to the boss and will grass on boned. The reason is I never miss of the bosses pet and he said yes. I am free!!! brutish little boy whacks his feet family. They died out at sea, and I anyone, so I hope he doesn’t get dinner because of my big bones I run to my car, stop a bit to catch around. I start to flap and then jet am not a very good flyer. Being in my way. Since this isn’t my first problem as it always makes me my breath, and I jump into my Ashley into the air. The smell of the grimy the bird in the sand it isn’t the best time sneaking out, he’ll keep an hungry. Once I am in my room, Volkswagen Golf 4th Generation Year 8 salt water around me. I see the ever life one could want. I was eye on me more than anyone else. I shut the door as I don’t want my and drive off. I am free and people get further away and then I born this way, it’s not my problem. I see my friends, Bloke and family to realise what I am doing. loving it a lot. A LOT! land on the shop roof. I can smell We are all our own person. So I Guy talking next to the vending Otherwise, they’ll be suspicious. the waft of hot dogs, the smell of pluck up my courage, or what I machines. I push them into I turn on the TV and I watch Nathan all smells. But there are humans have left of it, and put one foot in my office. the weather. Year 8 gathered around it like a net. I have front of the other and fly. My wings “Hey. What was that for?” not a hope in hell, my scrawny flapping in the breeze of the Guy shouts. He sometimes gets neck and thin body. I hop down beach. I see such wonderful aggressive like this. on to the hard concrete. things. Boxes that are moving.
It’s my work break. I’ve had a boring morning and am feeling like such an idiot for taking this job Thank you
Bath Festivals would like to thank the following organisations and individuals for their important support for the Write Team project.
The Paul Hamlyn Foundation Felicity Crenstil and Roy Davis. Bath and North East from Bath Spa University MA Somerset Council in Creative Writing for Young People The Write Team pupils Broadlands Secondary Sue Smithairey School and Matthew Oliver Adrian Wotton Chandag Junior School, Anthony Wilson Lowri Rees and Tracy Robins Debra Myhill Hayesfield Secondary School Becki Hares and Lynda Bevan Peter Salt Oldfield Park Junior School, Dreadlock Alien Chris Hammersley, Ann Davis, Mandy Coe Sally Edelson, Natalie Yeomans Andy Croft and Marian Hargreaves. Helen Cross Ralph Allen and Amanda Gaynor Chrissie Gittins Saltford Primary School Morgaine Merch Lleuad and Dawn Elliot Shaun McCarthy Wellsway Secondary Patrick Ryan School and Lois Frith Widcombe Junior School and Rebecca Cartwright now I think loud! Registered Charity www.bathlitfest.org.uk www.bathfestivals.org.uk Bath BA1 1NT Kingston Buildings Abbey Chambers Third Floor Bath Festivals No. 8 01 6 1 7
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