Poems from The Writing Club in Maryport Library
Me
My mind floats around like bubbles I try to help people's troubles I have a pure scarlet heart I hate sport but I take part I like to read a book I always attempt to try and cook I cut my knee, and it's okay My musical fingers play away This is my poem about me Don't read it if I'm not your cup of tea. by Ella The Library
Children's colourful cushions on the bench Vibrant book covers on the library shelves People whispering because that is the rule Story sacks hanging on pegs for readers People checking their emails on the computers The comfy sofas for sinking in to Bright painted characters on the windows Librarians checking books in and out by Merissa The Moon
The moon walks in the silver night Sees the trees sleep Peeps through the reeds Beams upon silver thatch Slowly, silently beneath the water Gleaming on silvery fish. by Marissa The Mist
The face of the mist Grey and lonely It turns a clear sky white in May The song of the mist Crying for a quiet sleep Denied a sweet dream by Ella Allonby Park
In a park there sat an ancient oak tree A noisy, old, black swing rocks side to side A climbing wall with graffiti from seagulls A slippery slide all scratched upon the shine Monkey bars rusted from the liquid rain The fireman's pole all mouldy and worn A wide, brightly coloured see-saw leans Smooth and worn wooden obstacle course creaks by Mia |
The Snowy Owl
The white owl sits On an old, high, grey mountain Awake at night Watching the Northern Lights Hunting little green frogs, Lost, Down in the mist. by Mia The sweet sound of the sea
The moon gleams upon calm seas Cliffs stand in sweet sadness Glimmering waves meet the pebbled land Listen, Hear the tranquil coast by Courtney My Bedroom
Sweet scent of perfume littered on the floor sweaty clothes abandoned beneath bare feet A cooling breeze pervades the air Numbers illuminated on a clock Hunky boy posters stuck across the walls Lonely balloon floating in the corner Harlequin make-up scattered galore Tattered Teddy on top of the wardrobe by Courtney The Beach
Taste the salty sea air on my tongue tip Fish swimming gracefully underwater People sunbathing in the golden sun Kids swimming in the bitter, cold water Boats gliding carefully across the waves Children building sandcastles in the sun Fishermen confident of catching fish This place, that lives within my sweetest dreams by Ella Beth
I'm Beth, with eyes like the depth of the forest With delicate, melodic, musical storage I taste the notes on the tip of my tongue My bouncy, springy legs flow fast, here I come I have an out-of-the-box type brain My artistic thoughts, my page is never plain My fingers are mini paint brushes Touching the page and brightening as it brushes This is me and I am Beth With all the things that are in my breath by Beth A Place I Go
A place I go inside my head, a tree Blossom blowing, blushing sweet marshmallows Sugar coated grass tipped with sprinkled dew The silent copse is swaying gracefully Wise old tired branches creak in torment Cracked cobbled path worn down by stamping feet Rough, ancient, crocodile bark, peeling skin A small place that makes me feel cosy By Beth |
Maryport Writing Group - Final Session
Using magazines and colour supplements we cut out words to construct short poems and stuck them on magazine illustrations.
This was my example .
Maryport
Writing for our lives starts again on Thursday September 12th 2013
Using magazines and colour supplements we cut out words to construct short poems and stuck them on magazine illustrations.
This was my example .
Maryport
Writing for our lives starts again on Thursday September 12th 2013