Well Done

by Penelope aged 8

It took me a long time
to think of this poem.
But now I
recite it to you.

To all little children,
I have to say.
To all poets,
Well done!!!!

If I…

by Elsie aged 12

If I could fly, I’d go to the moon,
If I had a wish, I’d give it to you,
If I were invisible, I’d steal you a flower,
If I were famous, you would be too,
If I were rich, there would be nothing too new,
If I could say something to the world, it’d be thank you!

My Memories

by Samira aged 10

As a child I was so excited to have a doll,
well obviously I was four or five,
like what do you expect from a toddler?
Oh, I know what you wanted from me,
you thought I would learn my times tables
and be a smarty pants
but time went by quickly
and I was a child
and I could think about was how I would pass my SATS?
But once again time passed and I was a tween
and all I could think of were I-phones,
but once again time passed and I was a teenager
and all I could think of were boys.
Now I’m an adult and worry about stuff,
like who will take the kids to school?
But you’re lucky because you’re a kid
and you have all the time in the world.
Hopefully you will have the same ambition
and dreams
and you will go to a great university
the best of wishes

Fly, Fireworks, Fly

by S. Moore aged 8

I love fireworks because fireworks are bright
They are my light
Fireworks shine throughout the night
Hopefully the fireworks make their way to the light
Even if fireworks pass by a kite
People might not have good sight
When a firework passes everything’s all right

Who’s the Cool Guy?

by Max Tager aged 5

Who’s the cool guy in there?
There he is.
There is the cool guy.

“Hello, cool guy.
What are you doing?
Have your wits about you.”

“Oo. I’ve forgotten how to speak.
I’ve got the fleas!
Ouch. Get off me!
I have nits.
Ouch get your wits back!”

The Picnic

by Maya Tager aged 7

The picnic wasn’t such fun.
There was supposed to be sun.
Mum forgot the toffee, and
Dad forgot the coffee.

Cousin Laura forgot the apples,
Cousin Lawrence forgot the papples.
The weather was dreary.
It made me feel weary.

Baby Grace lost her dummy
so instead she bit her Mummy.
My little brother ran around
and then he fell straight to the ground.
He tugged the picnic blanket over,
which made me feel super sober.

Then the sky began to darken.
Then my mood began to lighten.

We packed up the picnic and rushed straight home,
scarcely greeting our garden gnome.

We went up to our rooms and beds,
then blocked sad thoughts out of our heads.

But I thought: “This will be the last
time we forget to check the weather forecast”!


by Elsie aged 12

As you put it in your mouth
You taste the creaminess
When it melts the taste is luxurious
Tasting like sweet sugar
Tasting like goey syrup

I Heard a Noise

by Elsie aged 12

I heard a noise one day
In a most parculiar way
It squarked like a bird
It tooted like a train
I heard a noise one day
It was like a song
sung by a swan
I heard a noise one day
In a most parculiar way

The Artist

by Fatema Zahra Mithwani aged 9

Emerald green trees
all thick with
tower up like
as the golden sand
ripples with
showing its willingness
to receive
a sprinkling of

The soft crooning of
the pearlescent
beckons you
to this majestic
that is
filled to
the brim with

The serenity of
these kingly
mindfully with
turquoise aquamarine,
has tranquility
holding out its
hand like
a bold

A tropical
where dolphins
dance and whales
wander, sea turtles
shift, and stingrays
a breathtaking
of cradling

Hearts sown
harmoniously with
threads of glorification –
flora, fauna, and
human alike,
living to the
of the

A Testament to the Divine

by Fatema Zahra Mithwani aged 9

Within the Realm
of Infinite Possibility
there lies a paintbrush
magnificent in its ability

A paintbrush of illustriousness
A paintbrush of delight
A paintbrush of fulfilment
of majesty
of might

With the sweep of a swirl,
the conjuring of a twirl,
an endless blue shall unfurl

Oceans and seas of cool cobalt
swiftly sliding, cresting, gliding

The sky – a mirror of turquoise tranquility
The rain – an elixir of abundant fertility

A flourishing, a nourishing, of lush, leafy line
The towering, and flowering,
of a verdant forest of pine

The purest blush of a rose
as it blooms upon a vine,
its inviting scent – an aromatic offering
of praise to the Divine

A graceful swoop, a lissome loop,
a fluidly sweeping arc

With an attitude of beatitude,
the paintbrush makes its mark

From the Hand of the One
emerges sea upon sea
of blessing and wonder:
His Word, to each, is, ‘Be!’