Year 7 poetry

This term, Year 7 Humanities students have created a wide variety of poems, expressing themselves through figurative language, rhyme and rhythm. They have really enjoyed trying out the haiku, limericks, paint chip poems, book spine poems, blackout poetry, and finishing off with personal ‘I Am’ poems.

Here are a few they’d like to share with you.

I am home I am free? By Boitne Diene Djomani Sietchiping

I am home I am free,
I wonder if this is what heaven would be?
I can hear the birds peep peep,
I wonder if this is a memory I can keep?
Letting go of this memory is the key,
I am home I am free?
I pretended that I was not gifted,
But I feel that this idea has now drifted.
When I touched my uniform and my softly done hair,
I now worry that my happiness at school never cared.
I cry sometimes about the Kenyan morning sun I will never see,
I am home I am free?
I understand I need to let go of that life,
I say I should not beat myself up with a bloody knife.
I dream that I can see heaven again,
And try to see God in the light and say amen.
I hope that in this future I can see,
I am home I am free.
Right now I don’t know what to say,
But I am grateful in every single way.
This place in my memory is home,
But we need to realize it is time to roam.

Ocean’s Song By Maya Winefield

Her complexion as blue as the sky,

Her water, a diamond eye glistening in the sunlight,

Her creatures, ever so bright,

Gently thrashing against the shore.

 I’m calmer now than ever before.

 Darling ocean sing for me

Will she ever hear my plea?

Rain By Elisha Cox

Drip drop falling to the ground,

The noise it makes is a calming sound.

Splish splash in the puddle,

All the cold ones are in a huddle.

Some wish for it to be gone,

Others wish for it to stay till dawn.

Rain, rain on my face,

Rain, rain calming my headspace.

A Man named Jeremy By Sebastijan Peric

There once was a man named Jeremy,

He had a weird bird quite feathery,   

The bird ate him whole,

Swallowed his poor soul,

There was no more man named Jeremy.

Airplane Mode by Rushil Fernando

I am mischievous but serpentine
I wonder about all that is between
I hear the obnoxious whisper from the herd
I see the wings of the majestic bird
I want a piece of plastic that is squeaky green
I am mischievous but serpentine

I pretend I’m not scared of what’s upon the door
I feel a gust of nothing as there’s no more
I touch the bunches of cotton candy
I worry that they won’t understand me

I cry to the unseen, obscene, totally oblivious vaccine
I am mischievous but serpentine

I understand something which seems to be everything
I say it is pulled by strings
I dream that I might just have a dream
I try to not give in to the screams
I hope someone will not intervene
I am mischievous but serpentine

I continue to do the same before
I write about the things I can hopefully restore
I smell the stuffy awkwardness in the air
I read the lifejacket manual and stare
I demonstrate the manoeuvrability of a marine
I am mischievous but serpentine