The 2015 theme was PEACE NOT WAR: KEEPING HOPE ALIVE 1914 - 18. Shortlisted poems and schools were as follows:
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Selected Winning Poems
Anonymous (Age 9) In my mind there is a memory, a place I don’t dare go Weetwood Primary In my mind there is a memory, a place I don’t dare go A dove circles it Not letting me think of it In a way I am grateful but my heart throbs with despair I can remember the words he said before he departed I pleaded for him to stay He said mankind had done so much, He needed to do something back I stopped. I don’t know why I never forgave myself for letting him go But he did and he never returned For twenty years I told myself he would come I checked the mail every day for lost letters But then I stopped Because I knew, I knew I would just be disappointed, and the dove She would die more each time and let the memory seep through But she still protects me, from the harmful memories I have. Each year I send out a dove With pure white feathers, in the hope it will reach him It never does Hope and peace, the things I live for without him. Kiera Ahmed (Age 13) Hope Woodkirk Academy As I stand here in this cold, sodden trench Waiting for the enemy, wanting to quench my thirst I look out into the desolate distance, all I can see is slushy mud and dirty feet The bell sounds again in the distance, the enemy is coming Quick, hide, fire your guns and fight My comrade in the trench is hit in his chest, gunfire aiming at me Do I kill my enemy, or save the life next to me? Kill or die is all I see I smell death and gas in my temporary home There is no door, no soul, no-one is home It’s just me on my own Fighting for my life, fighting for my country, fighting not to die The only thing that keeps me going is hope Hope to see my family, and hope for the future Suddenly my chest feels numb, and the red oozing liquid keeps my cold hands warm I feel weak, I’m tired and I just want to sleep I open my eyes and my old man is reaching out to me His embrace is warm and comforting, like I always dreamed it would be I’m home now dad, safe and sound with your loving arms around me Mike Harwood (Adult) Lest We Forget The earth is sacred; Stone-winded from the moor, Sheep and the yellow buttercup In Ribblesdale. Bluebell and the stitchwort quilt. Hedge-hemmed and earthly With honeysuckle thread. Nothing is yellow As the buttercup in May. But then......What is to come? Green grass meadow Shadowed By the flapping crow, Slow black upon the wing; harbinger Of the vast insidious army, Plagued from a distant war; Last death call of the flowering year. Bring out your flowers; Bring out your flowers. Dead Eyes of the daisy, Ripped from the quiet Dale, Scavenged By the Unholy War. |