Foyle Young Poets of the Year

Year 9 Entries

- Liam - Curtis - Alana - Chantelle - Luke - Jessica - Ryan

The Decades of the 20th Century

By Liam Richardson

The decades of the 20th CenturyThe decade which gave us the power of flight,Like majestic white doves soaring through the sky,High in the clouds. The ten years of pain & suffering,The full force of two titans being unleashed against each other,Only one will win… The depressive decade,The Great War is won but at a price,Entire countries are in poverty,It will take decades to recover. The decade where the fallen titan shall rise again,In the form a Nazified devil back from hell,Death will surely follow. The decade of death, Fascism over Judaism,Millions are murdered,A truly dark day in our past,That’s still shocking,Even today. A decade of royalty,The king is dead,But Britain carries on,A little girl turned Queen,Long may she reign. A decade of exploration,The first time man touches another world,The romantic white gem in the night sky,It seemed so far,But we made it.

A decade of feminism & leadership,Woman trapped in the steel cage that is sexism,A cage now broken by the Iron Lady,One of Britain’s defining leaders. A decade of unity,The destruction of a divide,The reuniting of a country,A signal that the conflict is over. The decade where I was born,The next generation were created,To shape the next 100 years,And to make it memorable as the last.

By Ryan Wallace

She

She is a panther, insidiously creeping upon us day by day, and we fail to realise,She lures all the crime into our streets like vultures to a corpse,She is an obstacle, a hideout for all evil,She is what we fear, even though we can’t see her. Or is she different, is the complete contrary?She brings peace and tranquillity to our homes and to our mind,She offers us rest and relaxation,Maybe she has been portrayed as something she isn’t, Maybe she isn’t the beast we know her as. She is nothing; she is an absence of everything,She is the dark.

Life

By Jessica Hodgson

I went for a walk on a fine, sunny day,When a bee flew by and I heard it say,“There’s a reason for you and a reason for meand a reason for the sun that we can see.”

I was puzzled by these chosen wordsand stood for a while listening to the birds,But it suddenly clicked and I realised,“This bee’s describing life and I’m quite surprised.”

The is our warmth and it keeps us dry,The stars are our lights in the dark night sky,A bee carries pollen, which helps each plant,So we care for these things from the tiniest ant.

We live to smile every day,We live to sing and dance and play,Curiosity keeps us wanting more,Unpredictable, life can’t be a bore.

By Chantelle Fox

Loss

Oh my god this pain is so deep,I’m so exhausted and getting no sleep,I have to build my self up each and every day,Gathering what’s left of me and continuing to display, A false smile,A pretend act,As if I’m strong,I don’t know how I can do this and for how long. Until something comes up,Or your name is mentioned,Then the tears will fall and I will hide away from the attention. I am trying to remain composed from all this grief,And I have to remind myself that this will no be brief. So another day I have to live on for you,I don’t know how I can do it when I’m so broken in two.

By Curtis Jones

Crash

The ocean folds itself upon the sand,As the beautiful bellow of metal surprises all,The screech of the tyres warm the tarmac,And cars alert all to be prepared

The Buggati Veyron thunders down the road,It demands to be heard,But one, just one, little fire hydrant,Protests against life and defends its ground.

The car’s morale is destroyed,As it soars through the air with destruction and distraught,It bounces off the ground,Still rolling like a torpedo.

All the cars come to a halt as the Veyron stops,The flames emerge out of the windows,The sound of annihilation overpowers the eleganceof the once-cam ocean.

By Luke Jones

The Lone Wolf

The lone wolf,Longs for his pack,He has nothing more,than the skin on his back,Tips of his fur grow white in the icy cold,He needs to fond shelter,If he can be so bold.

The lone wolf,Darts through the shadowy trail,He is one a mission,That he must not fail.

The lone wolf, Begins to run,In the back of his mind,He knows what must be done.

The lone wolf is finally home,He comes back,Right where he should be – Alone with his pack

By Alana Smith

A Day at School

The alarm goes off at 7am exact,We hit the snooze button and that’s a fact,Rubbing out eyes and giving a yawn,We ask, ‘Do I have to get up for school; it’s the crack of dawn.’

We go into the bathroom,We can still see the moon,Brushing our teeth and washing out face,We look at the time and sigh with disgrace.

Now we have to do our hair and dress,I don’t know who we are trying to impress,We grab our bag and head through the door,Meeting our friends – the only non-chore.

At five to nine, we arrive at school,Ooops... We’re late, I forgot the rule,Detention after school for one hour,I really wish they lacked this power.

In first period, we get a nice greet,In second period, we get a treat,Now it’s break time; what shall we do?Let’s go to the library, we have homework due!

In PE, people are running at pace,Slow down! It’s not an Olympic race,At third period, we have art,Where we must sketch a detailed jam tart.

It’s lunchtime now; what shall I eat?Maybe a roast dinner with beef for meat,Fifth period brings an assessment – very annoyed!Last period is one I ought to avoid.

It’s now the end of the working day.I’m glad we get to fly away,It’s a shame we have to do it all again, But we have still got time until then.