'To Have and to Hold'
An empty, buzzing ache
reverberates in her heart
She scrutinizes her husband,
Despondency carved into her pallid eyes             
She regards his eel-like visage       
Cold flaccid hands
And dead eyes
Disgust and lament well up inside her
She remembers her childhood
Dancing in a ostentatious gown
Attending banquets and balls
Dreaming of her aspirations.
Now she does what she is told
Married to the first man who would take her
Her throbbing limbs sweep and dust
While his child, kicks and swells inside her
Draining her hope and spirit
But she does what she is told

His cloudy steely eyes bore into her
He sees a priggish mouth, pursed in a grimace
Sulky eyes of little more than a child
He agreed to marry her
When his heart was slashed
His real love dissolved
Before his eyes
Bonny and lively she had been
But he settled for this meek girl
Who mumbles and casts her eyes away from him
Who doesn’t speak or show affection
And looks at him with contempt.
Beneath his clothes a hair shirt
Irritates his pasty skin
But he will wear it
In memory of the one
Whom he had loved

This melancholy couple, absorbed in their thoughts
Pose for this painting
The ambience of the room gloomy and gauche
While the artist’s
Ingenious brush
Sweeps across the canvas
Capturing this moment
Forever
They have but do not hold
From this day forward
Never
Forever

Helen Amos Y8

'Crows over the Cornfield'

Golden, oily stems of the corn glisten in
The half sunlight.
And there is a white balloon that is losing its puff.
The shower of crows cracks the
Peaceful silence.
As they clatter around, they finally settle.
Suddenly the crows fly in a family
While the farmer harvests.

By Oscar Billington Y5

'Family Fun'

Can I go to the park
sway on the swings
sit on the smooth, seat
that sways to and through?

She might topple off.
Those long arms aren’t strong -
scrawny and thin -
straining to hang on.

I remember when I pleaded –
begging like a dog.
It never happened.
He never made me smile.

Not to worry, she will grow up,
The swings will fly no longer.
Her sweet chuckle will be silenced
All I have to do … is wait!

'Love of Music'

The man stands like a statue
Never moving
Never leaving
Never needing to.
He has nowhere to go
His cello by his side
Calmly looking up at him
With warm, gentle eyes,
Telling him it will be alright.
He smells her damp maple forests.
He looks up at the sky,
Dark, wicked clouds look down upon them,
It rains
His feeble heart floods with sadness
Racing raindrops scatter across the lonely streets.
He embraces her
Playing a peaceful melodic tune.
The whistling wind whips his face
Shamefully spoilt people rush past, uncaring.
Rain or shine they are always there
In the dank dark, woebegone streets.

by Georgina Cowan-Turner 6C

               'As I Hold'

                As I hold
         Your hand in mine
     Your tiny, curled palm
       In my mature, hand

      I watch you grow up…
                Baby
               Toddler
                Child
              Teenager
                 Adult

    I wonder if you still love me
           Or am I too old
             To be loved?

    I wonder if you will visit me
          On my death bed
          Bring me flowers
             Remember
            As you hold
             My hand
             In yours

Imogen Gammidge Y7

'Contentment'

The silky sea ripples
like a dimple in a baby’s bottom.
A seagull sails the sea.
The chocolate Labrador pants
in time with the rhythm of the waves.
A salty smell drifts through the air.
The little girl places her hand on the Labrador’s back
fondly.
Her top dog stands tall,
lord of the manor.
The sunlit beach glows in the distance.
Crash! The waves well as
a flash, red speedboat races in the horizon.
Unimpressed
he turns and licks her face.

By Elise Porter 6C

'Empty Space'

A rumble from great unknown depths,
shakes all beings into stunned silence.
The roar is of Almighty God,
as his creation sinks slowly away,
to swirl at the centre of the Universe.

The minute screams hit him,
pleading for a second chance in life.
“Why, why?”
A simple question, answered by silence,
far louder than that the storm.

Watching…
The great skyscrapers topple
like building blocks.
The inexorable truth is
nothing is indestructible.

The tornado from the depths of Hell,
tears through the mighty, cupped hands,
as a bell tolls in the distance.

Clasping the remains of His wasted toil,
he spends its last hours
wrestling with the buffeting wind,
trying to stop the hurrying hourglass
spilling its last grain of sand.

Ellie Brawn Y7