Colours - workshop idea for KS2/3

I recently happened upon the poem 'Just Like' Me' by Lawan Mitchell, a 16-year-old African  American. The poem begins 'black describes me', and goes on to elaborate how. It is presumably partly about race, but it need not be read only in this way: perhaps there are lots of colours that could each describe different aspects of personality.

In the light of this poem, I wrote a piece, 'Colours', reproduced below. In the poem I thought more broadly about the different things colours can represent. With both of these poems in mind, students could think about which colours best represent them, and why.

Colours

Green describes me.

It is fresh and bright and vibrant.

It is a colour that breathes oxygen

into the universe.

Green is replete with the dawning

of possibilities.

It’s a new-born idea springing into life;

it’s the feeling of wet grass

in summertime.

Red describes me.

It is angry, bitter, bubbling.

It is a colour that flashes a frown

and gnashes its teeth.

Red is fighting to escape its skin,

desperate to punch, kick and maim.

It’s a wild tiger in a tiny cage;

it’s a toddler screaming

on a supermarket floor.

Yellow describes me.

It is pale, sickly, withering.

It is a colour that remains

when the spirit has left.

Yellow is a patient

in a hospital bed.

It’s the slow decay of blunted teeth;

it’s your clothes coming out the dryer,

ruined.

Mums - wonderful poems by Year 7 girls

Last week it was Mothers Day, and I worked with a class of Year 7 girls to create poems about their mums. I'd like to share two examples from the class, which I have chosen in part because I think they are both very interesting and heartfelt, and in part because of their contrast with each other, highlighting the broad range of styles and viewpoints in the class, especially with regard to the often complicated issue of family. Enjoy:

Poem for Mum by Tamia

When I see you I feel safe,

like nothing bad is going to happen.

Even though I don’t have a dad,

you’re my mum and dad.

Mum, when I smile at you,  you get cross.

Mum, when you look at me you say

I look like my dad,

and start hating me.

Mum, I promise I’ll make your favourite

morning pancakes, even though

I can’t keep that promise.

What I’m trying to say

is I love you.

 

Mum by Bushra

My mum changes her mind very often.

At first she says yes then she says no.

She is concerned about my grades, giving me a phone.

She’s even scared to give me pocket money

Cos she thinks I might not keep it safe.

My mum is concerned about my teenage year

Coming closer every day.

My mum makes me happy by letting me play on her phone.

She eats my salty cupcake as a nice treat at home.

She loves making clothes, sometimes for me

Or the whole family.

She knows she isn’t the best, but she shall be.

She likes making food from Italian or French cuisine.

Madalines with hot chocolate sauce and pizza with mozzarella.

She doesn’t like ruining clothes, she’d rather give it to charity.

She is my mum, the best she could ever be.

My mum likes rice with curry, with a salad as a side.

She loves pudding, but never eats in our sight.

She is the person who made me like maths.

She is the one who gave birth to me.

I am so thankful, and happy Mothers Day!

Loneliness - fab poem written by Year 7 student

In 2013 I had an article published in TES, in which I discussed an activity whereby emotions are described using each of the five senses. I used this activity in a Year 7 workshop today, and it resulted in some fantastic, intriguing poetry. The following poem, by Meryy, I found especially interesting: it uses repetition, but it does not stick rigidly to the formula, veering off instead down interesting vistas. It was written in a short space of time so could perhaps do with a bit of editing. Nonetheless, I think Meryy can be very proud of what she has achieved:

Loneliness by Meryy, Year 7

It’s like your food not travelling through your throat.

It’s like a lollipop with no sweetness.

It’s like ice cream with no taste.

It’s like a tree with no leaves in the middle of a forest.

It’s like a universe with no living species.

It’s like a paper without a pen

and a pen without words.

It’s like a face with no wrinkles.

It’s like a rubber all by itself.

It’s like a hand with no watch

and a heart with no beat.

It’s like a cliff with no ending.

It’s like a body with no soul.

It’s like a child with no smile,

I see a story with no cover.

It’s like a seaside with no squeals.

It’s like a boy crying.

I can hear the voices of laughter spurting out

like vomit.

It’s like a door being smashed

wishing that it will never open again.

It’s like a rose with no smell,

like rotten food being chucked away.

It’s like air dirtied by the words that get spat out.

It’s like a smell, a touch, a sound, a taste, a sight

of nothing. 

Geographical Personification Poems with Year 7

I recently worked with a Year 7 geography class to inject a bit of poetry into what they have been studying. I shared my poem Remembering with them, in the light of which I got them to write personification poems based on a geographical feature of their choice - a great idea form a cross-curriclar link. I didn't explicitly ask them to write riddle poems, but these are what often emerged. Here is a selection of poems from the class.

I Am… by Zayna

I am a place which is pitch black

when you enter my mouth.

My mouth is full of wet

hard rocks.

You use me for shelter.

You can feel the

cold breeze coming

from outside my mouth –

it stays wide open

every day, every

month every year

and never closes.

It remains open.

Always will.

What am I?

I am a cave!

Jamaica by Ebony

I am a tropical crayon, with an exotic zing.

I am a juicy pineapple that’s full of colours,

With carnivals every day going pop, snap, crackle,

Boom, clash and bang.

I have a juicy flavour to explode.

My colours are a as bright as a baboon’s butt!

What am I?

I am JAMAICA!

Volcano by Nishat

If you ever drop anything into me

it’s gone forever!

You better not come close or

BOOM!

I’m a ticking time bomb, going to explode

instantaneously.

I can never be defused.

I can’t be put out.

I am like a witch’s magical pot,

where she brews fire and

the sun together.

I am a water bottle

filled with fire.

There are lots of me in the world

From Canada to Japan.

You’ll see me scattered everywhere.

I will shoot out drops

of excruciatingly painful fire.

So I reiterate.

Don’t come close or else…

BOOM!

Tornado by Athira

I am a huge monster,

swirling, swallowing

people, objects, animals.

I am mists of fog surrounding

my path and blocking them

to not let them escape. I am a beast,

a cruel one, menacing to my prey

and circling it making them feel

as dizzy as it can get.

I am a weather, the strongest one of all,

I grow and grow like a black hole

Which sucks anything in my reach.

I am one which doesn’t condone.

I am a tornado…

'What If', poem by Giacomo, Year 6

Last week I had a wonderful visit to St John's Walham Green primary school in Fulham, running workshops with their KS2 classes. In Year 6 we wrote poems based on my piece 'Not A Care in the World'. In the light of this poem, the students wrote about their own fears. I don't want to say much more, other than to share this frankly breathtaking poem by a boy named Giacomo.

What If... by Giacomo, Year 6

What if when I’m older I fail

What if when I’m older I don’t have

any money

What if when I’m older I get lost

and become homeless

What if when I’m older my wife

and children die in a fire and my

house has gone

what if when I’m older

my body gets cancer

what if when I’m older

I’m forced to fight a war

What if I’m in Afghanistan

And get killed at a firing squad

What if when I’m older

I never get married and live alone

What if I could stay a child.