Posts Tagged ‘poetry’

Weihnachten ist Rudolph und seine rote Nase
Weihnachten ist das Abendessen mit Weissen Zuckerguss auf
Weihnachten ist das Küssen unter dem Mistelzweig
Weihnachten ist Geschenke sitzt unter dem schnee bedeckten Baum
Weihnachten ist zimt duftenden Färbung der Luft
Weihnachten ist das Fett Mann Klettern durch der Schornstein
Weihnachten ist wachen Kinder wie die Lerche singt
Weihnachten ist eine Stechpalme bedeckt Kranz an der Hastür
Weihnachten ist die Strümpfe Über dem kamin hängen
Weihnachten ist die Karottennase im Gesicht des Schneemanns


Christmas is Rudolph and his red nose
Christmas is dinner with white icing on top
Christmas is kisses under the mistletoe
Christmas is gifts sitting under the snow covered tree
Christmas is cinnamon scented candles colouring the air
Christmas is the fat man climbing down the chimney
Christmas is children waking as the lark sings
Christmas is a holly covered wreath on the front door
Christmas is the stockings hanging about the fireplace
Christmas is the carrot nose on the snowman’s face

Reading of Sea-Fever

Posted: February 7, 2013 by dukefrederick in ICT and eSafety at Evelina, poetry
Tags: , , ,

Reading of Sea-Fever

firstly I read the poem and my other helper mixed up the different sounds to make up the thunder noise and the sea rattling.

I really enjoyed the editing my work which includes the reading and the sounds

I think that the hard part about it was that the reading because you really have to read clearly and to make sure that other people can understand what i am saying

but its quiet an exciting feeling when your recording the Adrenalin is amazing and the atmosphere is wonderful and i think if everyone  had a chance to have a go at doing this then they would love it and would never get enough of it.


The leopard in the closet

Posted: May 8, 2012 by ROH in general
Tags: , ,

Maybe I shouldn’t wear red.
I could wear blue or green.
Some people say I should wear yellow
But I don’t know.

Purple is subdued and violet is washed out.
Black is slimy and white is bland.

Pink is garish and navy is ruff.
Grey is moody and peach is bright.
People can say what they want
Leopard print will always be in.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

The pupils in the Secondary Classroom worked with the Fire Poet, Philip Wells, looking at sonnets and composing one together. Here it is:

Ocean Rose
The ocean light is a blue rose opening
My morning eyes to the glare of the sun
I listen to the whisper of the ocean noises ring
And I wish for the dolphin’s leaping fin.

Here in the sleep I am with them –
On my lids, in the quiet anything can happen
My sleeping hands could move and turn to wings
Of doves or fish that dart and swim

Into the unendable darkness and return
With scales shimmering in silvers
To the ocean light of the burning sun
Rising to the centre though the ether
My heart is filled with white love,
The magic pollen of the pure ocean rose.


the slums victorian times

Posted: January 23, 2012 by ROH in poetry, Pupil
Tags: , ,

Talking to the people asking about the dying man
Every other day a person is dying
That’s when a mother starts crying
Shouting but shivering on the
Street sweeping and weeping
Late in the evening the life that i live now is not what i expected
Moments in my life i want to be the man that was dying
Living in the slums is the life i wanted to live

Hbl’s Autumn colours poem.

Posted: September 30, 2010 by rosalindayli in general, HBL, poetry, Pupil
Tags: , , , ,

    Autumn Colours

Autumn comes in many colours:

Grey as the squirrels in the park

And the early morning mist.

Red as my Man United football shirt

And the sky in the morning.

Yellow as melted butter on corn on the cob

And the sunflower fields.

Green as the frogs on the lily pads, in the swamp

And as a juicy green apples.

Blue as a rough sea in a storm

And Blue is my name.

Brown as a football kit after a muddy match

And as a oak tree

Black as my moods in the morning

And the nights sky.

The Twenty-Four Seven Maths Boy (for Ryan)

Posted: March 29, 2010 by INC in fun, general, poetry
Tags: ,

He’s the twenty-four seven maths boy

He’s happiest crunching figures all the time

He adores simultaneous equations

And numbers as products of their primes.

He’s the twenty-four seven maths boy

You’ll find his house on BIDMAS Avenue

It’s full of lines of symmetry

And objects to the power of two.

He’s the twenty-four seven maths boy

He has protractor tattoos on his eyelids

He carries a ruler in his pocket

And a calculator in his fist.