Secondary poetry

I am my own formidable tractor

Cultivating and harvesting my life;

The peaty, pebbly soil of each chapter,

Yields harvests both golden and full of strife.

Every day I plant my truth, absolute,

Ploughing my way through each challenging day;

To solve each struggle, I am my own sleuth,

Believing, overcoming all things grey.

I compost my soil with great hope and grace,

And delicate seeds of pure honesty;

Each crop blossoming and all is in place,

And my caring, sweet loved ones there for me.

The privilege to live a life so rare,

With that gift there is nothing to compare.

Irma Mercele age 12

English International College

Peter Edgerton commented: “Lovely vocabulary and some really clever rhymes. Very good indeed.”

I was on my way to become an actor

but got stopped and hurt by a tractor

This now means I’m unable to join the X-Factor

I am now in the hospital

eating nothing but popsicles

they call me ‘The cannibal’

I don’t know why but it sounds cool.

I thought of ‘The ghoul’

but then I would have to start a duel

I wouldn’t do that because the hospital is where they rule

I am stuck here

And they have made it clear

That they will help me out of this fear

To tell you the truth it’s fun to be cared for

but yet I cannot even close a door

I’m getting released next week

I now need money so I seek

For I have to pay in a month, my fee

I worry now that I may not have it

But my hope keeps me going a bit.

It has almost come there

With only a bit of money to spare

Marie Larsen, age 11

Benalmádena International College

Peter Edgerton said: “A clear gift for unusual rhyme - ‘tractor/X-Factor’ is nice work but ‘hospital/popsicle’ is tremendous. Very clever.”

Falling autumn leaves lay on the path,

Rain clouds approach steadily,

Listen to the sparrows sing,

The day is still young.

-

Rose coloured shards of glass on the road,

The truth shattered before my eyes.

The night is bare and lifeless,

Yet darkness soothes my wounds.

-

Long walks in the cold,

The morning air, fresh and damp.

The tractor in the barley field suffers tirelessly,

The crop is dead.

-

Nightshade for breakfast,

Burning my memories to forget it all.

A colourful black hole appears,

Hallucinating a beating heart to stay alive.

I need to get out.

-

Drowning in false happiness,

Left the city and melted into the earth,

My tears water the land and,

The past is lost in the mud.

Evelyn T. age 14

Sotogrande International School

English Literature undergraduate Lily Farrant said:”There are some fantastic and really vivid imagery here to accompany the moving storyline. I liked the juxtaposition of sadness and hope, ending with a poignant final line.”