FANTASTIC FOOD POEMS FRO JOHN WYCLIFFE PRIMARY SCHOOL

I had great fun the other day writing food poems with students at John Wycliffe Primary School. The idea was very simple: inspired by my poem 'Love Letter to a Lychee' (from my book I Don't Like Poetry) pupils were challenged to write either a love letter to their favourite food, or a hate letter to their least favourite food. On top of this personification, the extra challenge was to include repetition, simile, metaphor and alliteration, after having identified it in my lychee poem. Here are two fantastic examples from Lucas and Max. Enjoy!

HATE LETTER TO A TOMATO by Lucas

Oh tomato

Your red colour is like a big monster

Gobbling me whole and walking down the road

Eating others who hate you as much as me.

Oh tomato

I just want to throw you away forever

I like you cooked when you’re dead

And suffering in the oven on my pizza

It’s my turn to eat you

Oh tomato

I hate you

SUNDAY DINNER by Max

I love mum

I love food

I love mum-made Sunday dinners of course!

It’s a plate of pure deliciousness

It’s a plate of rainbows and joy

I love my mum

I love food

But I love mum-made Sunday dinners

Because it’s food made by my mum

POETRY... TO THE RESCUE!!!!!!!

If you’re feeling rather blue, write a poem.

If you don’t know what to do, write a poem.

If you’re cast adrift and seasick

and you have no analgesic;

if you’re rendered quadriplegic,

write a poem.

If you’re trampled by a moose, write a sonnet.

If you’re hanging from a noose, write a sonnet.

If an inland taipan bit you,

if a baseball bat just hit you,

if a straightjacket restricts you,

write a sonnet.

If you’re floundering in debt, write a ballad.

if your bills cannot be met, write a ballad.

If the bailiffs come to call

and you have no cash at all

and you’re left with four bare walls,

write a ballad.

If you’ve shattered all your molars, write an ode.

if your gran has caught ebola, write an ode.

If life’s river has a dam in,

if your kosher soup has ham in,

if you’re dying in a famine,

Write an ode.

If you’re choking on some glass, write a haiku.

If you’ve cancer of the arse, write a haiku.
If you've crashed a helicopter,
someone hit your gran and crocked her,
you don't need to call the doctor:
write a haiku.

If your bones have turned to dust, write a poem.

If there’s no one left to trust, write a poem.

If your nation’s blown to pieces

and your life has turned to faeces

you don’t need to turn to Jesus:

WRITE A POEM!!!

NEW POEM: SHE AND I

She likes gazing at the ripples of the river;

I like jumping into puddles.

She contemplates the smoothness of the pebbles;

I lob them into the sea.

She holds a plump strawberry in her fingers;

I eat a doughnut.

She hikes in the crisp mountain air;

I wallow in the city’s sewers.

She is a poet.

I am a poet too -

just a different kind.

NEW POEM - STICKY TAPE

'My version of Paul Lyalls"s  poem Sellotape ( 'A Funny Thing Happened"

(Caboodle Books).

Send out a search party!

Send out a crew!

I have a predicament -

what shall I do?

It’s driving me crazy.

I’ve gone round the bend.

I have stick tape

and I can’t find the end!

I’ve looked high and low

and I’ve looked all around.

I’ve swam through the ocean.

I’ve crawled on the ground.

I’ve called a detective

who donned a black cape

but could not find the end

of the damned sticky tape.

Of course I've cursed coarsely.

I’m hoarse with inveigling,

searching the edge of

that round, sticky bagel thing.

This is a duff one!

This MUST be a con!

The end of the sticky tape -

where has it gone?

My eyes have gone crossed

and my skin has gone green.

My muscles have bulged

through my shirt and my jeans.

I howl and I growl

and I yowl like an ape:

“YOU MAY AS WELL ASK ME

TO PEEL A GRAPE!”

I can’t find the end

of the sticky tape.

FILM REVIEW - 'COLD WAR'

I am not writing this as a seasoned film critic, or even as someone with much knowledge at all about film. Rather, I am writing as a not-unintelligent person who spent a sizeable chunk of money to see a film during his leisure time. (Actually, my wife spent the money, but the point still stands - money was spent in the hope of being entertained.) I should also warn you that there may well be spoilers in what I am about to say.

Cold War (directed by Pawel Pawlikovski) has been incredibly well reviewed. My wife sold it to me on the basis that it has earned a slew of five star write ups, from the likes of The Guardian and Time Out. “Come with me to see this black-and-white Polish film”, she said. And despite the reservations that this automatically fostered in my mind, I decided to give it the benefit of the doubt.

The film spans the Fifties, and centres on the romance between Wiktor (Tomasz Kot) and Zula (Joanna Kulig). Wiktor is a composer and pianist, and Zula in a peasant girl who has been plucked from obscurity to perform traditional Polish songs as part of a troupe in veneration of Stalin. Reference is made near the beginning to Zula’s having murdered her father, but other than this neither character has any sort of back story, or any other kind of meat on their bones. There is nothing about either of them to suggest I should give a toss one way or another what happens. These are not characters; they are simulacra.

We do not see Wiktor and Zula fall in love, so we do not encounter the thrill of the chase that this might have engendered. Instead we get two ‘characters’ who go back and forth across the Iron Curtain, periodically popping into each other’s lives and sleeping with each other. Wiktor defects to France, Zula follows, then Zula goes back, and Wiktor follows, and so on, in a merry dance of utter pointlessness. We know nothing of either character’s motivation, or even of their personality. They may as well be very, very, very good-looking mannequins. The final scene is ambiguous: we see Wiktor and Zula in a ruined cathedral, pledging vows to each other before apparently committing suicide with an overdose of pills, and then we see them sitting on a bench together. Is this the afterlife? Are they still waiting for the pills to work? Is this a flashback? Do I really care? Zula ends by saying something like “let’s go across the river, the view is better over there.” This obviously mirrors their journey across the international borders, and perhaps across the river Styx into the afterlife. But metaphors alone can’t keep me interested on a Saturday night.

It has to be said that the camera work is often sumptuous. We get really atmospheric shots. I don’t know anything about cinematography so I can’t really say anything clever about it, but the visuals seemed really good. But you know what? In the words of the philosopher Shania Twain, “That don’t impress me much”. It is like being given a birthday present wrapped in beautiful paper, but with nothing inside. Some people do indeed see films purely for the special effects, but those are not my kind of people.

So, to conclude my first ever foray into the world of film reviews, I’ve give Cold War 2 out of 5. It is mercifully short, and the camerawork was nice, but it was BORING SNORING. Next!

2/5

Wonderful Poems from Hallsville School

On Friday I was privileged to pay my first visit as Patron of Reading to Hallsville School in Newham, London. The visit was the first of six scheduled for the 2018/19 academic year, and I had the pleasure of working with Years 5 and 6. I am excited to share some poems that emerged from my workshops. All the workshop participants should be extremely proud of themselves!

You by Layla

You are my swimming pool

Keeping me relaxed and calm

You are my house

Keeping me safe and sound

You are my Turkish food

Keeping me healthy and full

You are my rollercoaster

Keeping me happy and joyful

You are my TV

Keeping me interested and amused

Memories by Jayden

I sit on the plaster

Waiting to matter

As everyone starts

To chatter

I wish they knew

How I felt

As I waited for him

He was holding

His scooter handle

I wanted him

To blow out

My fire

He kept looking

At his computer

Until he puffed

And he huffed

And finally

My flame went

Away

Colours by Clara

Lavender purple describes me

Purple is a galaxy in the sky

It is a unicorn

Peaceful but cheeky

Lavender purple is a cupcake

It is a colour everyone would choose

It is as cute as a newborn baby

Purple is a heart no one can break

It is a colour you

Don’t see everywhere

Purple is a mix of blue and pink

Great in every single way

Because it is amazing

Like me

Colours by Raquelle

Black describes me

It is empty but full of emotion

It is the friend that is always there

It is the dark next to the light

Black describes me

It is the silent assassin of the night

The stranger to the morning

And the strange quiet that is usually there

Black describes me

It will always calm you down

In daylight or in the night

Black describes me

It likes isolation but hates being alone

It is the thing to take away your worries

And send you off

To a journey of sleep

Black describes me

FREE STORY #3 - THE GREAT PET AUDITION

This is the third instalment of free stories on my blog that assorted agents and publishers have deemed not worthy of publication. I am proud of them, so am happy to share them on this blog. Enjoy this one, entitle 'The Great Pet Audition'


For my sister’s birthday she wanted a pet – 
“I want a dog!” she claimed.
So she held an audition to see who to get
and the neighbourhood dogs all came. 

“You’re lively and fun,” Sis said to Dog One,
“your task is to run round those trees!”
But doggie was twitching, he couldn’t stop itching
because it turned out he had flees!

“Now sit in this shoe!” Sis said to Dog Two
who was sweet and remarkably small,
but doggie went hiding, and Sis couldn’t find him
anywhere at all!

“Now you lick my knee!” Sis said to Dog Three
and she laughed as he started to drool,
but doggie kept nibbling, he wouldn’t stop dribbling
and slurping away like a fool. 

“Now show me your jaw,” Sis said to Dog Four – 
“I’m after a powerful beast!”
The dog cocked his head, then went for her ted
and he turned the toy into a feast!

“Now fetch me this stick!” Sis said to Dog Six
and she threw the stick up in the air.
The dog made a dash, and then with a crash
the dog leapt straight into a chair!

“Nine, Seven and Eight – leap over that gate!”
Sis said to a trio of hounds.
They huffed and they wheezed, they puffed and they squeezed
but they couldn’t get up off the ground.

Now Dog Number Ten was last, but when
my sister told doggie to wait,
with one single bound he jumped up off the ground
and he bolted straight over the gate...

...Leaping up in the air he pranced over the chair
and he glided with purpose and ease.
With his powerful jaw, zipping like an outlaw
he darted his way round the trees...

My sister ran after with gales of laughter
and screamed “you’re the pet that I’ll choose!
You’re clearly the best!
You bet all the rest!
STOP RUNNING!”
...but doggie refused...

...He yapped and he growled, he snapped and he howled
and he shot down the pavement with glee,
‘til he found what he’d sought, and he stopped with a snort
and he barked at the foot of a tree. 

And Sis was astounded. “At last! I have found it!
She clambered up into the tree.
“I know who to get! I’ve found the right pet!
A CAT is the creature for me!”