Poems from students on National Poetry Day

 

https://youtu.be/D9Rh0F-JuNI

 am thine, thou art mine,

Of that be thou assured.

Thou art locked up within my heart

And lost is the little key.

ANON 

German, 11th century

This one I like because being busy with practical things helps me cope when times - like now - are a struggle:

Cheer up and don't despondent be

We've tasks we must fulfill;

Remember that behind the clouds

The Sun is shining still.

Ethel M Urry, 1921

This Dip Predilection

By Liz Folan 

Landlocked by Lockdown, my summer wings clipped, 

A mad Mersey mermaid enticed me to dip,

A pandemic paddle into sea foaming wild, 

Was ample temptation to rouse inner child.

To splash and to jump as the waves crashed to shore, 

That tidal tug making me crave just one more. 

Resplendent in floral swim hat, flimsy togs, 

I charged armed with tow float to howls of the dog, 

Who kept watchful eye on our Chilly Dip crew,

As we bobbed, shrieked and chatted in sea dazzling blue. 

A summer of magic and picnics and glee, 

Of kids building dune dens as mums sneak a wee, 

Of goose-fleshed giggling on misty dawn dips, 

Of dusk seas of fire and shivery blue lips,

Of ponchos and campfires and firm friendships forged,

Vegan bakes, Jackie’s cakes,  hot chocolate gorged. 

As Autumn draws in, there’s no fear of us dippers, 

We’ll always have dryrobes and sand in our knickers, 

And unbridled freedom despite shite restrictions, 

Because we’re all hooked on this dip predilection.

 

The 6th August Sitting here under the beech tree, listening to the quiet conversation of  neighbours and the rustle of leaves. The sun peeps out and scurries away  behind the clouds, but it is warm and soft  in the breeze that plays gently through the sway. Muffled motorbikes roar past and  planes drone overhead, the bees  and the flies buzz closer at hand  and I sit  and I listen and I feel. All the waves of grief and loss.  A wondering of what this day might have brought for us. I lit a candle to mark the day our baby should have come into the world and watched the wax melt and reform until the flame went out. I look down now at my beautiful  engagement ring. A promise. We crafted it as a branch of a tree and set a sparkling diamond with a heart of rainbows. It reflects the leaves of the beech tree above as I sit here and write. Hold Fast it says inside. It is a beautiful thing, to watch the glittering stone and the carpet of green grass beneath my feet. I can hear snippets of conversations nearby  as voices rise and fall and people pass by on the other side of the fence. High above me, a woman wearing purple lifts  a sash window and peers out.  It comes open with a mischievous squeak,  a sound far removed from all the others around.  and it makes me look up, drawing my attention.  She has beautiful white hair and as she  looks out upon the garden, I lean back slightly so that she will not notice me sitting here beneath the tree. I stay perfectly still, hoping that my own coat of green will provide camouflage and she draws her head back inside to continue her day. I look up one more time into the branches  of the beech and feel protected. It has wrapped its arms around me and sheltered me from pain. High above me, a woman wearing purple lifts  a sash window and peers out.  It comes open with a mischievous squeak,  a sound far removed from all the others around.  and it makes me look up, drawing my attention.  She has beautiful white hair and as she  looks out upon the garden, I lean back slightly so that she will not notice me sitting here beneath the tree. I stay perfectly still, hoping that my own coat of green will provide camouflage and she draws her head back inside to continue her day. I look up one more time into the branches  of the beech and feel protected. It has wrapped its arms around me and sheltered me from pain.