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The Tent
I once cut a hole in my tent, to sleep beneath the sky,
I wanted to feel like a sailor of old - using the stars as a guide.
Dad said the hole was an error, the design of my tent unsound,
He reckoned the rain would fill my tent and likely as not, I’d drown.
I laughed so hard I nearly choked; my Dad was pretty funny,
Yet looking back I wish I’d listened, his worries were on the money.
For it wasn’t the rain that filled my tent and washed me far away,
But the tears of an astronaut floating in space, that’d somehow lost his way.
In the universe, such a beautiful place, I dreamt of such a thing,
Instead of this cut-hole tent, I’d be a Solar King.
Filling my head, what an idea, I could hear rain pounding in my ear,
The rain poured, beating down, or was it a drum in the atmosphere?
The guitars strum, the wind whistling too and there I was a fantastic drummer,
In the open air, a free jazz fair, though it was hot midsummer.
Oh, how I wish there was a warm breeze, not the cold wind,
Maybe I could go inside, that would be very kind.
Jarnail & Rebecca- Langley Grammar School
I approached the gleaming star,
What seemed so near was yet so far,
I thought this dream was never ending,
Even though my body was descending,
I woke up in my bed,
With a pillow beneath my head,
My alarm noisily struck eight,
I knew I was going to be late,
I went downstairs to find my mate,
Waiting for me at my backdoor gate.
By Bláz Freshwater, Courtney-jade Morris and Chanelle Brooks, Great Yarmouth High School.
I start to levitate around the world
My tent is shrinking like a polo shirt in a tumble dryer
The shimmering stars swelling in the never-ending gloomy sky
I feel myself leap from star to star
Completing a dot to dot
It creates a magnificent map to the unknown
Eventually it all slowly fades away and I drift
Home to my tent
With a hole in the roof.
Well done to Hannah, Bryn, Ellie and Alex from Holy Trinity Primary School in Wimbledon for their great piece of poetry writing!
Looking through the hole in my tent
Into the mysterious sky I went
Around and around like a kite
Dodging stars without a fright
I gasp, as I look down on the ground
There I would be safe and sound.
It wasn’t the rain that filled my tent
But the sparkles from a shooting star
Which cut my face and has now left a scar
The hole let through bright beams that grew
Through my tent it flew
Around and around my tent like a search light
This brightened up my tent at night
But in the morning I will wake.
By Jamie, Charlie and Amy from Bishop’s Stortford College
Looking up into the morning sky
Thinking about a girl I cry,
Looking up into the afternoon sky
Thinking about a girl I try,
Looking up into the starry sky
Thinking about a girl I cry
By Dylan, West Kirby residential school
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