Thank you for sending in all your story poems. I had fun reading them! Thanks to Gecko Press these young writers will each get a copy of Friends by Joy Cowley (illustrated by Gavin Bishop).
These are three of my favourites (keep sending in poems!).
This is the first poem Gus has sent in and he has let his imagination go flying by wondering what it would be like if the whole world were made of jelly. The setting is a big part of this story. It seems like a great starting point for other poems. What else could the whole world be made of (give it a go!). There are some great words in here: wobble, grazed, jiggling, pohutakawa. This poem sounds good when you read it aloud. Fabulous job Gus!
if everything was made of jelly.
I’d eat everything in the world.
Gus, Year 3, aged 7, Gladstone Primary School
Sylvia has sent in lots of poems to Poetry Box, but this is the the first time she has won a prize. She sent in three story poems, all a little bit different. I have picked two to post. She always tells me something about the poems she has written. The first one she made up when she saw ‘the pink clouds of sunrise,’ and the third one was based on a true experience. The first poem shows so beautifully how something we see everyday (clouds) can be a stepping stone for our imaginations. Sylvia has used some gorgeous phrases: the dust pink clouds, the out tips of the clouds. And I like the ending. Great job!
As the morning comes
dusty pink clouds suddenly appear out of nowhere
like a band of flying ships
making its way
They come each morning
and pick up people,
people who have been deprived
of a good life here,
and on that ship of pink dust
there is a girl called Swing.
She has blonde hair
and black clothes.
She sways on the out tips of the cloud,
careful not to go through.
She is going somewhere
somewhere that is not
Sylvia’s second poem has a great rhythm. The short lines work really well. I like the way she pays attention to the world and bends over to look at these leaves. This is exactly what we do as poets; we bend over and stretch up to look at the world more closely and then go hunting for words to show what we see and feel and hear on the page. I also like the ending of this poem. I loved the way the arrival of dad means we have to leave too! Awesome job Sylvia!
In the Bright City Lights
I dance at night
It makes me feel happy
Night is exciting
I walk through the street
Trying not to skip
When I stop by a fountain
There are two little leaves
Sitting wet on a seat
I turn one over
To see if it’s the same underneath
It is dark with wetness
I turn it over and leave it there to dry
And once this is done
I feel obliged to do it to the
Little wisps of music catch my ears
Faint but there
That makes me want to dance in the night
In the bright city lights
By the pretty mosaic fountain
And overturned leaves
The bubble in my chest
Is now about to pop
When Dad calls me
Sylvia aged 12, Year 8, Parnell District School
Ewen has also sent in lots of poems (and won several prizes). This story poem has action and it has atmosphere. She has found terrific words to set the scene with such wild weather. Her rhythm helps with that too. I held my breath as I read it. Great job Ewen!
In the chilly weather
a leaf blown by a southerly wind whipped in my face
pushing me backwards.
and the next thing I knew …
as I struggled to stay standing.
as the storm crashed violently.
as my body ached.
as a tear and a drop of red trickled down my face.