CONJUGAL

Sometimes

in the deepdarkest

of night

your flesh slips

from mine

and I’m alone

in the universe

drifting

when light

taps the curtain

and I find you again

your hair

across your face

and I reach for you

and catch you

and hold you

tight

GIFTED?

I’m good with puzzles

but I can’t decipher the

rules of the playground

I’m good with numbers

but I just can’t count the times

I’ve sat by myself

I can spell long words

but the faces that stare back

are books I can’t read

They call me ‘gifted’

but I can’t untie the bow

that keeps me wrapped tight.

LAMB TO THE SLAUGHTER

I’m hiding in the cupboard

I tremble and I cower

A maelstrom surrounds me

I’ve been here for an hour

I hear shouts and curses

The fear builds within me 

I’m sure that if I show my face

The savages will skin me

They clamour and they jostle

Their eyes are filled with evil

It’s gruesome and it’s frightful

It’s totally primeval

I guess I must acknowledge

That this is just a feature

Of what I have to tolerate

As a supply teacher

MY GRANDMA'S FIRST POEM

 Today I ran a rare workshop for adults. My grandma was one of the workshop participants, and I'm pleased to say she produced the first poem that she remembers writing. This was also on the day she got her Covid vaccination, so a good day all round. Here is my grandma's poem; I think it is very moving.

Yellow

Yellow is the colour

of sunshine and hope.

It reminds me of my Welsh origins

and St David’s Day celebrations.

It is the colour of children playing,

of happiness.

It reminds me of my favourite dress

and the occasions I wore it.

Yellow is how

I would like people to feel

when they think of me.

Yellow is joy.

by Miranda Kitchener

'WHO ARE WE?' - SPECIAL POEM FOR CHAUCER JUNIOR SCHOOL, ILKESTON

For me, one of the unanticipated benefits of lockdown is that I have been able to interact lots on social media with teachers, schools and, dare I say it, fans. I recently ran a competition on Twitter, in which I promised to write a special, bespoke poem for the winner. I was delighted when Chaucer Junior School in Ilkeston came out of the hat, and I am really excited to be able to share with you the poem that I have written. The request was to write a poem about books and reading, to be displayed in their library for when schools go back. Furthermore, I was also asked to incorporate the 'core values' of the school, namely: Respect, Tolerance, Cooperation, Aspiration, Kindness and Appreciation. Here, then, is the poem written especially for Chaucer Junior School!

WHO ARE WE? A poem for Chaucer Junior School

We are respect

Like the shiny cover of a new book

Standing proudly on the shelf

We are tolerance

Like letters sitting side by side

Making meaning with their union

We are cooperation

Like books banding together

To build a bank of wisdom

We are aspiration

Like sentences strung sublimely

As they stretch towards the sun

We are kindness

Like a solid spine gently holding

Many different pages

We are appreciation

Like a wide-eyed reader

As they gaze upon a galaxy

We hold the world

Between our covers

We are Chaucer Juniors.

In my bounteous munifence, I also recorded the following video of myself reading the poem. Hopefully it will cause everyone at Chaucer Juniors to spontaneously combust with excitement!

LOBSTER

My dad had never

tasted lobster.

He’s sitting in the restaurant

with my mum

on their third date

and he excitedly 

orders the bisque.

Little does he know

at this point

that said dish

is merely soup.

I’m told he cried

when I was born.

BRILLIANT POEMS FROM FLEETVILLE INFANTS

 I have been paying regular visits to Fleetville Infant School since 2014, when I became their Patron of Reading. I wasn't able to visit this term, so we agreed that I would help judge a poetry competition. The task was for the children to write a poem based on my piece Play Time, which you can read on my website here. I am really happy to be able to share some of their fantastic poems. The ultimate winner was a group effort, produced by Bluebell Class (Reception). I was especially delighted to read this poem, as Bluebell is also the name of my cat! Here, then, are the poems. Enjoy!

Twin Time

by Joel and Luke 

We both have brown eyes

We both love learning history

We’ve both lost our first tooth

Can you tell us apart?

It’s a mystery!

We’re both a little bit cheeky

We like to jump and spin

Life is so fun

When you’re a twin

twin

twin!

FUN POEM

by Eloise 

I like to play with Christopher

We could play all day long

And when we are together we have

fun

fun

fun!

We like to play in the garden

And we like to play in the sun

And when we are together we have

fun

fun

fun!

We like to play in the park

With our Daddy called Mark the Shark in the sun

so let’s all have

fun

fun

fun!

The Things I Love by Florian 

I’ve got a Captain Underpants book

And fast racing cars too

I’ve got fierce dino pyjamas

And I love them because they’re blue!

I’ve got a lot of lego

And a friendly toy giraffe

I’ve got strong action men

And I love playing with them in the bath!

JUMP TIME by Sienna 

I'VE GOT A LITTLE DOGGY AND A PAIR OF SHINY BOOTS I’VE GOT A FOGGY WINDOW AND A RED AND YELLOW SUIT.

I’VE GOT A BRAND NEW BICYCLE AND MY BROTHERS OLD PUMP

SO EVERYBODY JOIN ME LETS HOP SKIP AND JUMP

I’VE GOT A CLIMBING FRAME AND A PAIR OF LEOPARD GLOVES

I’VE GOT A FANCY OUTFIT THAT I WEAR TO RESTAURANTS

I’VE GOT A PAIR ICE SKATES AND NOW I CAN STUMP

SO EVERYBODY JOIN ME LETS HOP SKIP AND JUMP!

‘Rhyming Fun’ with love from the Bluebells (Reception Class)

In reception we like to rhyme, it’s been a fun way to pass the time.

Here’s what we came up with, we hope that you like it.

Mr Josh, we hope it’s a hit

hit

hit.

I asked my class what rhymes do you know

and can you write them down so to Mr Seigal I can show.

The dog got stuck in the bog.

That same dog then saw a frog.

On his way along the road he saw a toad.

And a pig in a wig.

And a goat in a cosy coat.

You’d never believe what he then saw, are you ready for me to tell you more?

He had fun in the sun this wondering dog.

And was happy that there wasn’t any fog.

So he could see;

A goat that could float on a boat around the moat.

He saw it it’s true, crazy things these animals do.

A spoon jumped over the moon and on its way saw a birthday balloon.

A cat in a hat was laying on a mat and there was a school in a pool!

Over all he had the best day and he said during his play

“I have fun, fun, fun with my Mum, Mum, Mum.”

He then hopped until he flopped, what a silly billy.

So that is our poem from the Bluebells to you.

Thank you for making our learning so fun to do.

Love from,

The Bluebells

NEW POEM: HUNGRY TORY

HUNGRY TORY

I sharpen up my knife and fork

I give a belch and pop a cork

I wibble-wobble while I walk

I am a HUNGRY TORY!

I swallow hope and dine on dreams

My pants are bursting at the seams

I salivate at kiddie’s screams

I am a HUNGRY TORY!

I palm off scraps on needy proles

I use the rest to the fill the hole

That I possess in lieu of soul

I am a HUNGRY TORY!

I mainline money in my veins

My hamper’s bulging with my gains

I give my cronies what remains

(And piss a torrent down the drain)

I am a HUNGRY TORY!

MOVING POEM BY MAX, !6

 Max got in touch with me recently to share a fantastic poems he has written. He informs me that it is about his grandmother's dementia. Here is Max's wonderful poem.

Grandma by Max (age 16)

It hurts to see the dramatic decline

of a person once so conscious and fine

Now left to dine on forgotten memories.

To drown in a sea of nonsensical ideas;

to lose touch with life, everyone of us fears.

Concepts literal in one world

are foreign in another

emigrating back and forth,

in and out of reality.

Like a rhythm out of tune,

a field of the most beautiful flowers

now unable to bloom.

A crop colourless, seasonless,

gloom.

Memories burning on an endless fire,

as though the mind is now the body's pyre.

A spontaneous combustion

of a system so perfect and true,

now a ruined ecosystem

a permanently distorted view.

When I read Max's poem, I was reminded of one of my favourite poems, 'Visiting Grandad in the Home' bu Ian McMillan (Macmillan 2002). Here it is:

UNPRESIDENTED

An orange old fellow called Trump

Routinely talked out of his rump

He spewed out his bile

So bitter and vile

That Twitter concluded: “let’s dump

LOVELY POEMS BY MIM, AGE 9

One of my favourite things as a professional poet is displaying students' work on this blog! I am hoping to do lots of this during lockdown, so teachers and parents - take note! Below are some fantastic poems by Mim, age 9. Mim's mum got in touch with me to share four poems Mim has produced, two kennings and two cinquains. One of the poems mentions the name 'Shallot', and Mim's mum Debs informs me that Shallot is a little girl in Uganda whom Mim has struck up a friendship with. I hope you all enjoy Mim's fantastic poetry as much as I did!

 

New Poem: 'Behind Every Number' (+ bonus poem)

 BEHIND EVERY NUMBER

Behind every number, a flame that has perished

Behind every number, a voice that lies still 

Behind every number, a life that was cherished

Behind every number, a bone-shrinking chill

Behind every number, a pain unrelenting

Behind every number, a lost work of art

Behind every number, a daughter lamenting

Behind every number, a son torn apart

Behind every number, a family muted

Behind every number, an echo of grief

Behind every number, an essence diluted

Behind every number, a life-leaching thief

Behind every number, a world-beating failure

Behind every number, the quickest of bucks

Behind every number, a dithering jailer

Behind every number, the lamest of ducks

Bonus poem

GAVIN WILLIAMSON'S EXAM RESULTS

Incompetence: A

Ineptitude: A

Inadequacy: A

Turn: U

NEW GIRLFRIEND

Come along and meet my girlfriend.

She’s amazing. She’s the best. 

With a wide and varied insight 

into life she has been blessed. 

She knows every single answer

to the questions that I ask. 

She has all the right solutions.

She completes each tricky task. 

You will marvel at the power

of her quick and clever mind. 

Put quite simply, my new lady

is the smartest you could find.

So come along and meet my partner.

She makes quips to great acclaim.

She is quite the virtuoso

and Alexa is her name.

FANTASTIC POEMS FROM YR6, ST DUNSTAN'S SCHOOL

 I was delighted when Ms. Baker, the Year 6 teacher st St Dunstan's Primary School in Birmingham, got in touch with me recently to share some poems that her year 6 class had written. The poems were based on my piece 'Just A Book?', which is published in I Don't Like Poetry (Bloomsbury) and which can be viewed online here. One thing that really impressed me about the poems was the rhyming. A tight, coherent rhyme scheme can be difficult to achieve, so I can tell that Ms. Baker's class worked hard on their poems. Here, then, is a selection of fantastic poem from year 6:

NO SALE

He said he didn’t want it

when I offered it last week.

He claimed it was too evil

and he said I was a freak.

He called it ‘vile’ and ‘ghastly’

and he said it made him sick.

I tried to do a bargain

but it wouldn’t do the trick. 

He said he wouldn’t touch it

with an elongated pole. 

In spite of my persuasion

Satan wouldn’t buy my soul.