This week our creative writing club, Writers' Bloc, have been writing about their experiences over the pandemic and their return to school this week.
We are pleased to share with you the Lower 4 poems below:
Amelia Holdcroft, L4
This morning smelled like perfume bought from the expenzsivest shop.
Today tasted like sweet honey from the best of bees.
Today is like pink dazzling blossom blooming on the glistening trees.
I am a bluebird dashing through the bustling trees filled with friendships and laughter.
Today I am the glimmering ocean and the bold sky blue dolphin with streaks of gold.
Sam Parretti, L4
The last year was a sleepless night,
An endless drone of bad news and warnings,
The year was a bear trapped in hibernation,
Only waking to roar at a fearless bird,
The year was the life cycle,
Being welcomed into a new school,
Like being born,
But being in lockdown,
Trapped on screens,
The year was a knife in the back,
Betrayal by those who you care for most,
Like going to pick a rose,
But instead being struck by a thorn,
The morning smelled of honey and toast,
Of clothes I have not worn for three months,
Today tastes like a lemon flavoured cough sweet,
Soothing for the throat,
But strong poison for the tongue,
Today is like rising up after stumbling to the ground,
Dusting of the dirt and marching forwards,
Today I am like a raven flying onto the horizon after a year of perching on a twig, seeing the places it hasn’t been for a year, free and wild, with the cool breeze against its feathers,
Today was like a bandage on a fresh wound,
The scar is healing, and will not take long.
Sophia Beney, L4
Last year was the smudge on a drawing. The perfect picture that turns out blurry. When you rise in the morn to find the plug off at the wall. Now I’m a bear that just missed a fish, waiting for something better to come along. A crab looking for water, a flamingo waiting for colour. A chick waiting for flight, a winter tree awaiting summer leaves. A cloud just covering the sun. I will be riding on the back of a whale, soaring on the wings of an eagle. The sun glistening on that one drop of dew. That’s what I will be, in this new year of mine.