Our Blog 9-11s

Tuesday 19th April 2016 - Looking for Atlantis
We began our session by finding new phrases and sentences in a set of magnetic poetry words, such as:

Generously use harmony and rhythm to feel free.
Never remember purple flowers.
Passion is a picture of harmony.
Music is like a psychedelic paint masterpiece.
Why bring a chocolate telephone?
Silhouette soft and silent like glass.

We then read the wonderful picture book 'Looking for Atlantis' by Colin Thompson, looking closely at the pictures as we listened to the story. The children each chose a picture or image from the book to work with, using it to find inspiration for a poem or a story.

Seek It See It


River flows

Darkness falls

Look into your imagination and you will see some more

Rockets fly through the sky

Trains roar beneath the floor

Seek in your imagination and see lots more

Little cottage with a kite soaring out

Timber house cutting through the bricks


Listen in your imagination and you will find much more


Top tree house with elves inside as small as a thumb

That would be their size

So use your imagination and this is what you might find


A mini hot air balloon with people that are miniature

Waterfalls flowing through an earring

Great patterned hammers for houses

Creating leaves for doors. Baked bean tin prison where

You only eat baked beans and only drink baked bean juice.


So use your imagination and much more will come to you!




10th November - Diary Writing

We began by discussing what kind of thoughts someone might write in their diary, and how it can often be the little details about a person's day, as well as which details they choose to record in their diary, that reveal something about their character. The children came up with a long list of diaries in literature - Wimpey Kid, Anne Frank and many I'd never heard of! They then worked together to compile a list of weird and wonderful schools, before choosing one and writing a diary entry for a pupil at that school.

My Diary


I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw a school of seals right above me. So I swam up and breached out of the water with one or two seals in my mouth and crashed back down with an atomic bomb-like splash. But before I could get anymore the rest swam away traumatised by the event. But at least I got two. At school we did my favourite lesson hunting stealthily and we actually attacked some seals!


By Daniel

13th October - Light

Having explored the meanings of the adjective 'light' last session, this week we discussed what the noun 'light' means. We listed different sources of light, using three paintings to help us think about the differences between electric light, natural light in the sky or candle-light. We looked at Starry Night by Van Gogh, The Nighthawks by Edward Hopper and cave paintings of the Chauvet caves, illuminated by candle-light. In groups, we then found ways to personify the light and give it a voice. We then wove our ideas into our poems:

Summer Stars

I'm floating through happy sights but down
on earth they're looking up and seeing me
racing through the dark night but when I
look down it is a puzzle there's nothing
there but black.

I sit here and sit here waiting
for a light to shine so some
happiness can be above the world
to create a lovely sight.

But just then a flicker a flicker of
light flicked on and in a flash the
world was a brighter place.

by Scarlet


Without me the world is nothing.
My claws clasp together in a spiral shape.
In the day I am tugged away by my enemy,
the sun.
Although we both give off light we are like the distance
from the moon to earth.
I know I am better.
I just know it.
I steal the spotlight at night
but in the day I am almost forgotten,
that's the bad thing about me.

Why am I tugged away,
I make the inky black sky amazing.
People need me,
I cost none
but I am fun.
Look up at me,
it's as simple as that.

Bored, frustrated, sad
I wait for night to come.

by Erin

29th September - Light

This week we explored what it means for something to move lightly through the air by playing with bubbles, feathers, balloons and paper airplanes and coming up with words to describe them. We then compiled a list of other things which are light and wrote fantastic poems about them...



Fireworks pop bang

I love fireworks

Ringing in your ears

Entertaining the squeeling children


With the big bang gives your heart a bang

Or maybe the fireworks inside you

Red, orange, yellow, green

Kicking your skin.


By Daniel




Smooth groove,

floating stuff,

feathery stuff,



down, down


Lying silently

never moves on that giant pile,



By Erin

15th September 2015 - Excuses!

It was brilliant as ever to get together with the children again and see so many inspired and motivated faces. We began our session by thinking about why you might need an excuse and coming up with some possible excuses. We then read a fabulous book - A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to School by Davide Cali and Benjamin Chaud - about a boy who's late for school and comes up with a whole list of weird and wonderful excuses. The children then wrote their own excuse-filled stories. Here are some of the impressive results:

 A Weird Thing Happened on the Way to Parkour

"So why are you late today?"

Well, that's a long story. First I was doing parkour. I was jumping off a sky-scraper onto a roof, my friend knocked into me and I broke my leg. I had to go to hospital.

Then I was playing Assassin's Creed and the assassin flipped out of the game and we ended up in a parkour chase and he shot the phantom blade and I had to go to hospital AGAIN!

After that I was playing vector and I got sucked into the game and the assassin chased me. I was terrified. Then he caught up and electrocuted me...

...and then when I was leaving, Bilbo (my dog) turned into a mutant and tried to eat me! Suddenly I was sliding down his windpipe and he spat me out!

by Daniel 

"So how did you lose your homework?" said my teacher.
Ummmmm ... a dinosaur came along and threw up on it. Yes yes that's it.
"Is that why you lost your homework?"
Oh no, I managed to clean it up but then a bunch of worms slithered out of the ground and slurped it all up.
"Is that why you lost your homework?"
Oh no, I got it back after a few hours. But suddenly a giant coca cola can came out of nowhere and sucked me up into its unexpected stomach.
"Soooooo is that how you lost your homework?"
No no I managed to slip down deep and grab my homework and swing out of the giant can.

by Erin

You would never believe it but ...

"Why didn't you eat your lunch today?" said Mum angrily.

"Well first when I was doing my work an alien came in and spilt magic ink on it and my writing disappeared so I had to do it at lunch time then when I went out a dinosaur invaded the playground and it ate my lunch so I went out to the shops but then I saw a spaceship which made me lose concentration and I went the completely different way and got lost. When I found my way back I forgot to get my lunch and made a big robot to defeat the dinosaur and then remembered about my lunch and jumped inside its mouth. There were strange things inside like doughnuts and water fountains. Then I found Pinocchio who was also getting his lunch ... well that's what he said but I knew he was lying because his nose grew bigger. Eventually I found my lunch but lunchtime was over so I went back in to class.

"Oh really like I would never believe that!"

by Joel

24th February 2015 - Personification Poems

We began our session this week by compiling a list of human actions and a list of objects in the room. We then paired up one word from each list to create personification sentences. Amongst the many wonderful examples were:


The flower laughed as its neighbour was pulled out of the soil.

The poster dribbled as it saw a cooler poster on the opposite wall.

The door shrieked in pain as it was slammed shut by a cruel human.


The children listened to the first few lines of Sylvia Plath’s poem ‘Mirror’ being read aloud, without the title. They spent some time discussing whose the voice in the poem might be before guessing it was a mirror speaking. They then each thought of a hobby, and chose an object used in that hobby to create their own personification poems – can you guess who (or what) is speaking?


Climb, Drop, Loop


I strap my victim of terror

into my harness, wedging him into

every nook and cranny of the seat.


I give him my 3 … 2 … 1 … GO!

I pummel him into the back of the seat as

he faintly says his last words,

as he tears up a 90 degree straight up plummet.

He gathers his senses at the top of the climb

working out he’s still alive!

As fortune gets lost in a different galaxy

he twists and turns down my cobra-like motorway.


Distraught in terror as he pukes

up a jumbled echoing sentence:

“How am I still alive…” “How am I still alive…”

“How am I still alive…”


BAMB! My next victim awaits!! …


by Stan

Who Am I? (Prose Poem)


I am tired. The exhaustion takes me over. I wave aggressively as my owner strolls to me. I moan as the annoying sound of packets rustling walks over to my ears. Suddenly, the dreaded scissors peep out. The bands shriek relentlessly and squeeze into their packet. I don’t know why because the scissors didn’t harm them!


The elastic circles grimace as they are stretched carelessly. My pegs wiggle as the discomfort fills up their hearts. The band screams, snaps and passes away when that silver nightmare shows up. Nothing happened! She starts hooking, scratching me painfully. I hope I don’t react and my beloved pegs break off.


by Isabella

13th January - The Great Title Randomiser

Welcome back to a new year of creativity and inspiration with Tiger's Eye Writers! We began the term with a dynamic session, working in groups to come up with weird and wonderful titles by combining an abstract noun with an adjective and a concrete noun. For example: The Joy of the Molten Tightrope, The Starvation of the Stinky Tiger or The Frustration of the Glittery Venus-Flytrap! The thoughtful and inspired work that arose from this activity is a good example of how creativity is everywhere...

The Anger of the Streaming Pandas!

Jazz was playing peacefully by the waterfall, grabbing bamboo sticks from beneath the coal black shadow of the trees. She paused. She had felt a splash of cold, blue water cover her paw.

“Oh, every time!” she groaned, wishing it wouldn’t happen. Jazz glanced around to see her brother, Elvis, picking away without the company of water. Frustrated, she scampered over to him.

“Why is it only me who gets splashed by the stream, never Mother, never you! How COME?” she persisted.

“Simple, just keep away from the edge because…” he froze. There was a sudden shriek from the river next to him. He spun round to see his sister getting whooshed away in the stream.

“Curse that river!!!” he rushed rapidly after her, seizing a stick on his way. He caught a glimpse of the anger on her face but then realised he was in the river too! Suddenly, their Mother came out, saw what happened and laughed!

“The anger of my baby pandas!” she giggled.

by Isabella

The Joy of the Molten Tightrope

The circus lights are dim. Everywhere I look is desolation or desperation. I'm feeling nervous, nobody has ever done this before, or lived to tell the tale. By telling the tale I mean walking the tight-rope... the molten tight-rope! 

As I walk down the circus aisle I wipe my hands on my trousers. My black boots echo every time. I put a polished heel on the ground. Everything is quiet but I know they are watching me, I can feel their eyes burning on the back of my neck. The sweat sticking my thin auburn hair to my scalp. My palms feel sticky but I keep walking.

Once I'm at the bottom of the steps the world swirls and my mind slips into oblivion. I open my eyes to see the volcano with the hair-thin wire descending into it. I start to have second thoughts and start to walk away but a screech reaches my ears, my mother!

I run up the volcano to see her terrified face. I have no thoughts runs through my mind. I run straight onto the thin wire, it snaps beneath my weight. My mum's image flickers and I realise it is a hologram. I knew they would do that, make me pay for challenging them. I realise as I fall that it is not mine, but their joy of the molten tight-rope.

by Becky L


18th November - 100-word stories


We had fun this week coming up with six characters, six settings and six feelings to be written on the board. Each child then threw a die three times, which gave them one idea from each of the three columns. The challenge was to include these in a 100-word story.

Isabella used a hedgehog, sucked into a TV/computer/tablet, and flabbergasted as inspiration for her weird and wonderful piece:

Fantasy World

"Next to the wood! No!" Hee exclaimed angrily. Hee, his name, pondered closer to the TV game. The soil block was all Hee had on Minecraft. Hee stomped his foot as a pigman destroyed his bed, newly created. "Aaah!" A bright light fabulously sucked Hee into Minecraft. His plump bottom sat heavily on what used to be his bed, now a cotton mess. Two red lanterns glared at Hee's hedgehog spikes. No, a big fiery pigman! He was flabbergasted. Hee turned round, fiercely poking him with spikes but as they were square it was no use! "Heeeeeellllllppp!" he screeched rapidly...

by Isabella

Stan rose to the challenges of weaving a talking TV, a theme park on a floating island and cheerful into his short story:

Talking TV to a Floating Theme Park

"Off the bed everyone!"
The TV checked. The coast was clear. He began his mission.

He got to the airport and got on the plane to the floating theme park on a floating island. It took nothing but a minute because the airport was right next to the island.

When he got to the theme park he was in glee because the park was empty so he could go on loads of rides. He went on loads of rides but the best one was the Tower Terror.

The next day he forgot to go home. He stayed there forever and never returned ... never left ... never will.

by Stan

4th November - Letter Poems

In order to help us think about the purpose of line breaks in poetry, this week we began by discussing the differences between poems and letters. We then looked at William Carlos Williams's famous poem 'This is Just to Say', laid out first as a letter and then in its original format, and thought about the effect of the line and stanza breaks on the poem. The children wrote their own short letters which they turned into quietly powerful poems.

Hey James

I'd love to go
to the park with

I need to know
how long will we
be there?
Who else will be there?
I don't know who
I can trust.
What games will we play?
I don't usually
fuss about that.
Because I don't ever
but this time
I want to know.

I'm looking forward
to going

and can't

by Becky

Dear Thomas

There's a fair in town 
And I was wondering if you would like to meet me there.
The fair looks brilliant.

It's got a haunted house
Which looks kind of scary.
They also have a waltzer
And a twister.
They have a massive swing
That spins around and goes upside down.

There are a few food stores
And games where you win prizes.
There's a really really really tall ride
That goes around and around really fast.

Anyway I think we should go on Friday
Because it's the day where all rides are 99p
But if you can't maybe another day
When the rides are their full price which is £2.
So hope you can.
If not I'll go with my Mum and my sister.

by Stan

To Dad

I'm sitting at
(boring) school.

Watching the rain pour down
and the sun
faintly making a rainbow.

The teacher's
getting us to present.

Pictures of our

I've got my swimming one
(as you know).

We're watching this super long one,
about football,

Next up is...

This day
only gets worse!


It's my turn...
erm, bye!

by Isabella

23rd September - Story Generator

We began our session this week by looking together at some common clichés and coming up with more original ways to describe things in order to make our writing more interesting. We then made our own 'story generator' by folding paper into a fortune teller and writing characters, story settings and objects into them. Once we had got three ideas, the challenge was to write a story which incorporated these three things.

Harrison, 9, used 'king', 'maze' and 'wand' to create this intriguing story:

The King
Once there was a filthy rich king that wanted a pet. Even though he could just buy one he wanted to earn one. On Tuesday 23rd September 2014 the king received a map of how to get a pet. "Aharr!" shouted the king. "Exactly what I was looking for, but it does  say magical maze and if you're lucky you can find a wand." That's the first thing I will do tomorrow. And that's what he did. He got up extremely early, left his castle and he was gone, no-one could stop him. He stumbled off on his mission.

8th September

It was brilliant to see the children again this week, to hear about their holiday adventures and be taken once again into the fabulous world of their imaginations. After sharing our favourite colours with the group and beginning to think about why those colours are special to us, we had lots of fun sifting through paint colour cards which I'd gathered from B and Q. The cards had some fabulous language for expressing shades and tones, and the children worked very hard using this language as inspiration for their poems.

Feeling Groovy

The girl was going to the beach.
She wore a fleece she'd been waiting to pick up.
Her skirt was a cave painting and her
lips were like a magenta manicure.
But her shoes made her look like
she was feeling groovy.

She got to the beach and sat down.
Her body relaxed but her mind was
a fuzzy peach. Her feet flicked off
her shoes but then she felt less groovy.
When she sat up her mind filled
with blue energy as she looked
into the aqua mosaic ocean.

As she slipped on her shoes she
said goodbye to her aquatic
home. She put her mental happiness
into the ocean so it started
to feel groovy.

by Rebecca

A Poem for Me

On the dance floor prancing and dancing around.
The green energy of the disco dance floor
sailing by moonlight in beaty brains of disco balls.
Turkish tile lucky charm fantasy funland
pressed olives on the mermaid cheeks
beautiful sunlight full of clover fairies.

A poem for me is the best!

by Stan

A Butterfly's View!

Wings spread and eyes open,
It graces over the sea,
A yellow sunshine gleaming brightly,
The grenouille green leaves on a prickly tree!

Lions roar and rabbits bounce,
Vicious tigers scrape on the wall,
She passed the luminous zoo gate,
Pink pizzazz flamingos in a clear blue pool!

Passes over a beautiful ocean,
and a doorbell ding ding ding,
Gazing through the sparkling window,
Spots paradise sapphire ring!

She returns back to her butterfly garden,
A girl with a pocketful of posies cardigan!

by Isabella



Steel head, red shiny, charging in the sunset

Wine cast a drunk person in a pub in hell.

Laird of isles the story teller of legend in heaven

Bold move an army charging in a boy's dreams

Pretty poppy, a memory field after a war.

The heart of a city is red and pie

The heart of a shark is evil

Steel head, red shiny, charging in the sunset

Wine cast a drunk person in a pub in hell.

Laird of isles the story teller of legend in heaven

Bold move an army charging in a boy's dreams

Pretty poppy, a memory field after a war.

A war ship out at sea

Innocent people at the mercy of war

Steel head, red shiny, charging in the sunset

Wine cast a drunk person in a pub in hell.

Laird of isles the story teller of legend in heaven

Bold move an army charging in a boy's dreams

Pretty poppy, a memory field after a war.

A mine icicle but diamond is cool

The pain of a worker is not very nice at all

Steel head, red shiny, charging in the sunset

Wine cast a drunk person in a pub in hell.

Laird of isles the story teller of legend in heaven

Bold move an army charging in a boy's dreams

Pretty poppy, a memory field after a war.

by Jamie

17th June

We began our session this week by imagining what a 'Snorgh' might be - what kind of character it might have and what it might look like. We then read the wonderful picture-book The Snorgh and the Sailor by Will Buckingham and Thomas Docherty, about a Snorgh who lives alone and doesn't like adventures, until a sailor arrives at his door and tells him a story about a wonderful journey. There isn't time to finish the story because 'Snorghs always go to bed at 8 o' clock', and when the Snorgh wakes in the morning the sailor has gone. The Snorgh sets out to find him, and eventually does:

"But I have to know what happens next!" [the Snorgh] cried.
The sailor scratched his chin. "Well, in that case, you'll just have to come with me. We set sail at dawn."
And what an extraordinary story it turned out to be!  
The children's challenge was to continue writing the story themselves, with some wonderful results: 

… then suddenly the boat lifted off the ground. Snorghs don’t like flying! said the Snorgh. The Snorgh lay down as the wind blew him into the bright sunny sky. He slowly fell asleep. He dreamed of being in a hot air balloon, then suddenly he saw a huge mountain. Then he realised it was a volcano. He woke up and saw that he was in a hot air balloon and then he saw a mountain. Then he realised it was a volcano. He flew over to it and then flew down to it and got disintegrated by the lava. And he died happily and peacefully ever after!

by Joel, 8


6th May - Alphabet Pictures

After reading a poem which finds images and pictures to illustrate the numbers 0-9, we wrote our own poems creating word pictures for letters of the alphabet, with some very carefully thought-out and inspired finished pieces.


Two mountains
high in the sky,
one seagull
flying high.
The beginning of a monster's hand
curling round the door.
A 'B' without a line,
two n's in gore.
What you say
when you taste chocolate
the M.


Alphabet    2.0

A                A lightless Christmas tree,
                  simple, but changes everything.
B                Cool shades, lying on their side.
C                The toothless shout of an Arabian knight.
D                The mound of a mole-hill,
                  when the world is on its side.
E                A trident without its handle, useless.
F                A monkey wrench,
                  taking a break from the tool-box.

Rebecca H

The B and the B and the B and the...

Two mini hills dancing on penguin bills
Dead corpses rising from the underworld.

A baby's tender but getting hit by a bat
Stupid mini creatures dancing under Hades nose.

Chicken's rings in poseidon's pants
Rigging of a naughty ship.  Oh wonderful world when will you begin
You do not have Zeus's rings.


22nd April - Magpie-ing!

We began our session using magnetic poetry to play around with words and create weird and wonderful sentences. We then read through a text taken from an old fairy-tale, imagining we were magpies looking out for the 'shiniest' words and phrases which caught our eye. We then used these jewels to inspire our own poems and short stories.

Silent Stars

stars shimmered
silent emptiness
diamond light
towers rose
blue night hollowed
beautiful milk of the stars
silent fear
terror no longer fear
sky blotted emptiness
no longer beautiful


Conquering, amazing, twisting tower
Hollowed in stone, and filled with power.

Hidden inside, a diamond revealed
Protected by a monster, waiting for a meal.

At the top of the tower, a princess waits
with beautiful golden hair that is so great.

Many knights have tried to complete this quest,
but all never prevail with the princess

and now the princess weeps
because all the knights have ended in heaps

and now the princess is stuck forever
for eternity she won't have a chance to be together.


1st April

We spent time today thinking about our favourite things and why they were special to us, and then used our ideas to write a poem about someone important. One of the group had the idea to write the opposite, addressing a poem to someone you dislike!


You are my perfect blue sky, watching over me.
(Sometimes) you are my personal clown
that brings the redness to my cheeks.
You are my Pepsi
that fizzes up when I mess with it.
You are my favourite shoes
I could never bear to lose.
You are my Shacera, *
my heart-warming memory.

* a loved place in Brazil

by Rebecca H

The Boy in my Class

You are a volcano waiting to explode, oozing orange goo from your head.
You are a killer shark, always snapping your jaws, terrorising your victims.
You are a sack of sprouts, ruining my Christmas dinner.
You are the sour taste in my mouth after eating a lemon.
You are in my nightmares, with an even smugger look upon your face.
You are published in many people's bad books.
You are a plague in our school.

by Jake

10th March

More wonderful news! Stan, Tom, Rebecca, Becky, Olivia, Jake and Rosie have had their monster poems accepted to be published in a special anthology by Young Writers!!! Congratulation to them, and to all those who entered their work. 

4th February 2014 - Monster Poetry

Fabulous news! Regarding last session's work, congratulations are due to Rosie who was among twelve adults and children invited to read their work at the ONCA prize-giving event. At the end of the reading it was announced that Rosie was the winner in the 6-11s category!!! Well done Rosie, and to all who took part.

It seems to be competition season! Following on from last session's success, we began working this week on our entries for the Young Writers' Monster Poetry competition - www.youngwriters.co.uk/monster_poetry.php We began by drawing a quick sketch of our imagined monsters, chose three adjectives to describe them, thought of a name, where our monster might be from and where it might go on a day out. We then looked at a narrative poem, identifying that it is a poem that tells a story with a clear beginning, middle and end, and talked about its use of poetic techniques such as rhythm, rhyme and simile before writing our own narrative monster poems. 

Interview with Freak Boy

Today I interviewed a boy, not an ordinary boy,
Oh no, a zombie. So Freak Boy what's your story?
I visited, or more like, hacked into a school.
Yes that's right, a school. I always carry a knife with me.
So what did you do at the school?
Well I went to haunt and scare them.
They all ran with the teacher away,
Off they went and got into the bus.
Ahhh screamed the town, it's Freak Boy
and his friends Scary, Shredder, Blood Bob and Trigger Ted.
They trashed Costa and ripped people apart.
Oh yeah, we have the power to turn five people into a zombie.
Scary Shredder started to turn things into ice.
Every breath was fire for Blood Bob
and Trigger Ted had flying power.
Freak Boy had zapping power to zap things or zap things up.
So that was that ... is there more?


The Murker

One day, at a shop,
I bought a jelly
because I was hungry
to fill my belly.

When I got home
I put on the TV
because I was gonna watch The Shining -
a horror masterpiece.

As I opened
the so-called jelly
it turned out to be living
and started to call my Mummy.

It was known as the Murker
and it was slithering to me,
I saw the last light
on the TV.

He dragged me away
to become one of him
and never have I
been so grim.

The residents of Devil Street 666
were never seen again, the only remains found
was a slime track, blood - not enough for death -
and a note in blood red pen


by Tom

The Alien


Aboard a mighty sky bound vessel, lights flashed,

It was going down.

Deep in the ship’s living quarters, Elektra woke,

Her dark eyes full of anxiety.


Her milky pupils darted around the room, taking in the scarlet flashes.

She rubbed her eyes, brushing her turquoise skin with the back of her  


The landing bay, with all its leavers and screens,

Was bustling with activity.

Outside, the window showed the planet, fast approaching.

The crew were panicking, screeching,

One cry rang out:


!!Thirty Seconds To Impact!!


Elektra ducked, covering her head with her hands,

Her nails grazing her scalp,

She braced herself for impact.

Everything went dark.


A haze, dense and mystifying, settled,

The ship was surrounded.

Elektra woke,

She could hardly see in front of her.


Out of the mist came a sleek figure,

From her spot on the ground, she saw him,

His skin a pastel pink, his hair a rich brown.

His eyes upon her face.


She felt her heart quicken in her chest,

Her vision blurred.

She jumped to her feet,

Brushing the aquamarine strands of hair away from her eyes.


His face was surprisingly similar to her own,

And her cheeks burnt as his eyes bore into hers.

They were wide, his mouth open.


Before she could catch his arm, he turned and ran,

Elektra couldn’t speak,

This alien, that had broken her heart, was gone into the horizon.


She wished for a normal life,

To look like him,

But she could not.


She sank to the ground,

Tears streaming down her face,

The salt stung her cheeks,

A painful burn that caused her to cry out.


As the last fragment of hope evaporated into the blue,

She buried her face in her hands and wept.


By Rosie

OMG Meets Another Monster

I visited the clouds one day
And there was another monster,
So I started to say
I see you're eating a lobster.
He said that's correct and what is it to you?
I am just asking so there's no need to be rude!

Ok, ok I am awfully sorry
But I feel I am getting to the size of a lorry.
You know, I think we should be friends
Screamed OMG I love your trends!
Sure, you are a great monster you know,
Would you like to come with me to watch a show?

My show is about a beautiful bee
So basically written all about me.
Now, I bet you're wondering why I am who I am,
And that's okay because you're as nice as my brother Sam!


The Monster's New Friend

I was wandering lonely as could be in the clouds one day
When I saw another creature, too shy to say anything today.
The next day I was there again, I saw her there as well,
I plucked up the courage to talk to her
Believe me, it went swell.
I went over to her with a lump in my throat
And started to lose my words,
She laughed with me - sure I'll be your friend
When you get off your shyness boat.
So there I have a friend for the cuddly monster that I am.

Rebecca H


Descending down to earth
from my planet Mars

destroying everything in my path
including bikes and cars.

Yes you heard me right, even posh sports cars
oh what a boring journey, coming down from Mars.

Finally I land, from my airship
eventually I emerge out of a deep dip.

I look around, to my great surprise
a group of humans staring with two eyes!

Even though I still do not fit in
everyone around me tends to make a din.

I look around in shops
and eat chocolate bars - 

one is even named
after my planet, Mars.

My name is Monster.



Today I interviewed a zombie.
Yes, you heard me, a zombie.
It sounds retarded but it was fun.
First when I met him he tried to rip me apart.
So they put him in a cage.
Then I said to him...
"How do you live in this world
with an awful rotten smell?"
Me don't have feelings me very stupid
gurgled the zombie in a noobe voice.
"What do you do on a day out?" I said.
I rip people apart.
Then I asked...
"Where do you live"
I live in Satan's lair, growled the zombie
with an aggressive exquisite voice.
"How would someone kill you?"
U shoot me in the hea -
And that was the end of the zombie.

To be continued
or not...


Wibbly has no Friends

I once was walking down a street
And I wandered into a strange creature,
His eyes round and blobbish like jelly
His body small and squiggly.
I asked him for his name,
He simply said "Wibbly".
I asked where his friends were,
"Wibbly have no friends".
I asked him why,
He said when he was born his mum was cursed
giving him the name Wibbly.
I said I'd be his friend and he farted in approval.
So now I'm different I have a monster friend.

Rebecca L

21st January 2014 - A Waste of Space

Last week I was contacted by the director of 'ONCA' - an environmental art gallery in Brighton - whose aim is to explore the relationship between art and our culture's attitude to waste. They are holding a competition inviting poems and stories entitled 'A Waste of Space'. We spent the session today exploring how we might respond to this theme, with some original and powerful results. The gallery currently houses an interactive exhibition where visitors can get inside a greenhouse full of paper dots! Find out more at www.onca.org.uk

A Waste of Space

I could have been used to make music.
I could have been made into a sculpture
but they just threw me away.
I could have been a movie star named Bob Bottle
but they didn't care about me.
All these arguments about which is the best:
San Miguel or Stella Artois?
It's sick how they torture us.
I can tell in the future they won't treat me like dirt.


A Waste of Space

Oh man I'm so angry. How could Mum throw away a tea-bag? It could have been made into a work of art, like a pen that runs on the juice of the tea-bag. That could have been the next big thing. That could have stopped pollution but nooo she throws it away like it's a waste of space!
I can't believe it! I can't believe she just threw me away. I could have been collected with my kind to be made into a pyramid of beauty but nooo she throws me into the compost to be chewed into nothing but soil. Sometimes I feel like a waste of space.


A Waste of Space: Cans

Cans, cans,
what a waste
of going in the bin.
I could be
something great, you see, 
maybe I'll give you a hint.

I could be
a holder of tea
or a home-made rocket toy,
the feeling of being
something else is really
great or should I say joy?

So now I'm hoping
you won't be moaning
when your Mum says to keep me,
also my friends
hope this will happen to them -
now you know what I could be.


A Waste of Space

I am glass but I could have been a looking glass

It is a waste, a waste of space

It is bad to be bad, but I could fix that

I am so jolly if only I was a glass bottle but I sorrow more because I follow gore

But it is a waste, a waste of space

I am so so sad, but I could have been a light

But I got into a jolly fight

It was gore but so many more but this is my story of gore

But now is now, but I just wish if I could be sitting on a dish …

Because this is hell.


7th January 2014 - Celebrating the New
We began today's session by talking about our favourite Christmas presents, before moving on to share stories of New Year's Eve parties. We then compiled a list of things which could be new on the board, such as toys, ideas, school, friends or partners, and chose one each to describe in a poem, with impressive results!


I have got crumpled skin with eyes that prize.
My face looks different,
    but it is hard to prise my eyes.
Different smells ringing like bells
I drink drunk water but it tastes like I was you.
I come out like a person in a water slide,
    but I don't look like you.



Hi, I'm Bob the leaf. Yes I'm a leaf, now get over it. You know when people say they turned over a new leaf? Well they didn't. I did. Literally. But when I turned, my stalk broke and I fell off. Then Maddie's French bulldog ate me and I got torn to shreds. I came out - three hours later - I reassembled myself because I'm magic and I'm magical. I put myself back on the tree and lived leafily every after.


New Year Poem 

At the beginning it's cold.
Fireworks go bang in the sky.
The year can be exciting
Can be hopeful.
Things unexpecting can happen.



To get a new hat, it's like you never had one before.
Not yet unwrapped, it is alone in the paper in a tight world.
One of the best shapes I've seen, tilted on my head.
Pure red like a red blob of ketchup.
It has a rim that will last forever.


A New Day

Enveloped in a golden glow.
Forever tomorrow.
A fresh breath of life.
Crisp as linen sheets.
Brings new opportunities for everyone.



It's a new experience.
It may sound funny
and it can be understandable.
The French have a weird language
but a little bit impatient to be fair,
slapping me when I got my skis stuck.
Usually they are friendly,
my teacher was good at teaching
because he helped me to do snow-ploughs.



Painting: You might not be great at mixing colours.

Painting: You probably need teaching the strokes.

Painting: It might be enjoyable or boring.

Painting: It will be inviting, open to everyone.

Painting: Try not to stress, relax and you might be the next Van Gogh!


Please scroll down for further work - for some reason there's a huge blank space which I can't delete!

26th November - Fortune Cookie Stories

We began the session this week but creating three lists of six verbs, six adjectives and six story characters. We then rolled a die three times to determine which word in each list we should use, creating pieces of advice such as Follow the daring wizard... After working as a group to create a story, the children rolled dice to make up their own sentences and individual stories, with weird and wonderful results!

Wait for the Cold-Blooded Zombie


One day I went to the Isle of White and I was going to go fishing. At the time we got on the boat and looked in the box of caught fish, all I saw was a note saying ‘go to the bottom of the ocean’. I thought to myself, What the hell? I’ll die! Then I took a deep breath and dived into the ocean. At first I couldn’t breathe, but then all of a sudden I started growing gills. Then I lost my eyelid as if I were a fish.


I started to swim down to the bottom of the ocean. As I got further down I saw a shipwreck. I went into it and found ZILLIONS of gold coins and sapphires, and found a key in front of a humungous door. I put the key into the door and it opened.


I started walking down some steps and then found a sign written in blood saying ‘Wait for the Cold-Blooded Zombie’……


By Stan


Follow the Soft Fox


One day I was digging in my garden, for Mum. I wanted to bury myself, she is so mean. I was digging and digging when I hit something hard. Not another rock! I had come across one million quadrillion rocks and now one million quadrillion and one rock! Why? So I dug more to excavate it. When I did get to it, the supposed rock was a small chest! I decided to open it without Mum, whose name is Chof, stupid name isn’t it! Inside the box was a note of paper –


To the lucky person who has found this piece of PAPER. I give you a Blob, this Blob will grant you a few wishes, you can also wish for infinity wishes. I am getting tired. To the lucky person, treat him with care! P.S In fact I shall die. P.P.S Follow the soft fox.


It had old writing, like they wanted to change the way they write. Odd. I looked at the Blob, it was pink and green and cute. The Blob gave me infinity wishes. I wished for a kinder mother and to make sure I had blob food and would never lose him. I wished for loads of things and they all worked, one was an adventure.


I smiled, “Hey get off me!” I yelled in my dog’s face. He is so annoying I wished him to lick less.


By Aliyah

Tuesday 12th November - Found Poems
It was great to get together again after the half-term break and hear what the children have been up to. We took clipboards and pens up into the library and spent time hunting for interesting words on signs, leaflets, books etc. We then spent some time highlighting the words we thought were the most interesting in order to create our own 'found poems'. Some children decided to only use the words on their list, and worked hard to pick and themes and arrange the words into a new form. Others used the words as inspiration for new ideas, embedding their found words into new pieces.
The Dream?
As I played on Moshi Monsters
I realised that I was lost,
a castle stood in front of me
covered in moss.
I saw a whole load of thunder
so I went inside,
and I saw a lot of blood,
and people on their side. I ran
straight to these people,
that were now way past death,
and the man I saw had been attacked,
for there was a knife in his chest.
One man had a Tango can
that looked like diet,
he could be its former owner,
had been burnt alive.
I wondered what had happened
but a giant came that day,
and the creepy bit was...
it was midnight straight away,
his hand came crashing down
like fire.
Then I woke up from my bed
and felt really tired.
I was interviewed by the Stranger,
Observer and Synopsis, and they
were all really annoying,
and I never told another
thing about my weird and
wondrous voyage.
by Tom
Found Poem
Horror, midnight, quest,
Hunted, blood, war,
Scary, world, night,
Danger, end, cut,
Sussex, maps, action,
Children, light, bulb,
School, special, Shoreham
Library, books, chocolates,
by Cassia
Words and definitions:

Trespass - treading on private land
Horror - a genre in films or books
Blood - liquid inside your body
Guts - a part of your body
Death - there are many ways to die like a heart attack or murder
Smoking - a product of tobacco - another way to die.


Smoking - a genre in films or books
Horror - treading on private land
Blood - a product of tobacco - another way to die
by Jake


Tuesday 15th October
Re-writing traditional tales
Over the last two sessions we've been looking at modern subversions of well-known fairy-tales. We read 'The True Story of the Three Little Pigs' by Jan Scieszka and 'Snow White in New York' by Fiona French, then discussed how we might create our own pieces by telling a story from a different character's point of view, or setting it somewhere surprising. The children came up with their own highly individual pieces:
Rapunzel: The Rebel
That is the sound of a rusty door in the middle of a creaky forest being slammed with tedious envy. Birds scattered, squirrels bolted and the ugly old troll under the bridge near the stream recoiled in fear as a voice as shrill as a tin whistle screeched out in anger.
The voice belonged to Dame Edna Montavarious of the Palace-of-ginger-cake-that-is-quite-like-Hansel-and-Gretel. She was pulsing with anger. Her perfectly creased face bulged purple, threatening to explode.
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel! It's just not fair!
You've got lovely blueberry streaks in your hair!
Your hands are beautiful, they cause me despair,
Your nails are way longer than mine - how could you dare?"
In the window a girl stood swinging her nails to and fro through the air, grazing the grass underneath her windowsill. Her hair was cut untidily into a short bob, and three indigo streaks lined her fringe, which reached down to her chin. On her arm, a tattoo lay - a horrid picture of a rose on fire stretching from her shoulder down to her elbow.
"Oh whatever, you old lady."
Dame Edna Montavarious erupted with rage. Her? Old! She was only fifty-three years young! The cheek of the girl!! But her nails were soooo gorgeous. She suddenly snapped back into reality.
"You are never coming out of there! The world will never know of your keratin-spangled fingernails! Goodbye, 'Punzel!"
She flicked her own nails in the air dismissively, and the door disappeared. She turned on her stilettos and was gone into the creaky forest.
by Rosie, 10
Jack and the Underground Adventure
Once upon a time - sorry, no, that's how normal stories start. This is not normal.
"Jack, wake up!"
"Wha? Ouch!" said Jack who had just fallen out of the top bunk.
"I need you to go and sell Sloppy" Mum said.
"But I love him!" Jack protested.
"Jack, he is demented remember?"
"Fair enough" Jack sighed, and he moped all the way to go and sell Sloppy.
"Yar I'll buy yer cow" the Jamaican purchaser said. "For three beans."
"Deal!" said Jack excitedly, and ran home to plant the beans.
"Aaaaaargh" screamed Jack, and landed in a heap in the middle of the floor. And no readers, he had not just fallen off his bed again, he had fallen to the underworld.
"Hello" said a rather friendly voice, "welcome to the underworld!"
When Jack's eyes adjusted to the light, the first thing he noticed was a ghost guarding the door and next to that door were pillars made out of bone. Through the door were a giant and a zombie.
"The zombie's brain is made out of gold."
"Wow" Jack exclaimed to nobody in particular, and entered to get the zombie's brain.
by Jake, 10
Tuesday 17th September 2013
The Language of Stillness
We went straight into our first writing activity at the beginning of today's session, thinking about a place where we go to be quiet. This could be real or imagined, somewhere in the present or past, or even a noisy place where we felt able to be still inside. The children came up with a wonderful range of ideas, then rose to the challenge of writing a sixteen line poem or hundred word short story about their quiet place.
Inside my Hollow Tree
Inside my hollow tree,
a touch of wind simmers around,
music comes to my ears.
When the leaves
fall and crisp
All my hard work
is lost in a room
while servents come and out
and listen to me.
Lovely, elegant lady-like behaviour
goes away
and relaxing me drops in.
All my nightmares
blow off the tree
while we enjoy our time
with you and me.
by Hannah, 10
The Movies
watching films
you can be horrified
chomping popcorn
it can be silent
it can be deafening
you can go often
you can go never
scoff nachos
delicious rainbow-crazy sweets
go with your family
go with your friends
different age ratings
for each film
it can be fun
it can be boring
but all I have to say in enjoy!
by Stan, 8
She walked into the forest, her feet not making a sound, even though the leaves were bone-dry and crisp.
Not many people came but that was even better because she could say what she wanted to say and nobody would have a comment. She could be what she wanted to be and nobody could see.
She lay down, the light dancing around her. To some people that sounds boring , to some it sounds lucky but to her it just sounded normal.
She spread her auburn hair out and closed her eyes and dreamt, because it was her world and her rules.
by Becky, 10
Tuesday 3rd September
It was lovely to get together again after the summer break. We had a great session full of laughter and some really interesting pieces of writing. We began by imagining words cost 10p each and we had £1 each to spend. We spent some time thinking individually about which words we would buy, then shared our thoughts with the group. We then set ourselves the challenge of writing ten sentences, including one word from our list into each sentence, and used these as inspiration for a poem or story. Here are the weird and wonderful results:

Dictionary of Epicness


You enter a musty library, with books as old as time itself…

You see a hefty encyclopaedia lying glumly on a table…

You lift the heavy cover and cautiously turn the first page …


This is what you read.


A girl called Fred went on an epic journey to Fluffland and met a super-magic tortoise called Harry Potter – (space where you scratch your head in confusion) – a man murdered a house to get to Candyland and only found a pile of dynamite.  


It is strange, you can't figure it out,

You close the book, confused.

You leave the musty library slowly on tip-toes -

You have just unlocked the secrets of the multi-verse!


by Rosie, 10


Diary of Weird Words


Pig and dig


The pig wore a wig

exterminate the pig.

Chocolate banana skins

are a creaper.

Peakachoo use thunderbolt.

Poopaloop an alien,

a doctor save the game.

Banana skins.


Pig save the doctor and exterminate a creaper.

Banana peakachoo.


by Jamie, 8


Higgledy-piggledy Maths


The maths was higgledy-piggledy,

wiggledy-diggledy. I heard a song in my head

singing You hate maths and I do too.

That made everything higgledy-jiggledy-figgledy.

All of a sudden I passed out

into a dream full of maths

which would be my worst nightmare.


by Stan, 8


My Weird Words


People think I don’t make sense. I do! I use weird words like: carcicle (a car made out of icicles), slumpyslicious, woohweeohwa (what on earth), alizes, nimble-wimble (I say that when I’m scared), gleep?!? (what’s going on?!?), nimowama (I want), shoawam (go away), damowama! (danger!)


by Aliyah, 9


Bamboozled. This is how John felt. He had just bought a new car and it had smooth tyres. Why? he asked. Because the car dealer was on his phone, NOT concentrating. Thanks Martin.


You see, John was walking down the street and suddenly an automated voice said “Martin is not cookoo.”  

“I never even said that!” John was furious.

“Don’t get smart with me” the automated voice said.

“@!#:?” John swore. He suddenly landed in Canada with a swoosh.


When John looked up he saw someone reading a book. The guy reading the book said “Hi I'm Kaboodoo. I’m Spanish”

“But we were in Canada” John exclaimed.

“I know” Kaboodoo said, “I’m Spanish Canadian”


by Jake, 8 


My Top 5 Words


Terrifying? Yeah right.


Downright cute!

Tiny creature

All over - it is cute.

Does didgery doo-doos!


An acrostic poem for the made up word tadtad by Rebecca, 10




Tuesday 11th June
We had a lovely relaxed session today. After a miming game which had us laughing out loud, the children finished their house poems and wrote them up onto templates to be hung in Adur Wonderland. The houses look great and will be on display at 31-32 East Street until Sunday. Stan, 9, thought carefully about the things he likes to do at home:



My house is full of amusements,

but mainly I play on the computer.

One of the things I do is play RCT3 -

you build roller-coasters and theme parks.


I also play a game called Minecraft

which is basically where you build to your limits.

I get excited about which monsters I find on survival.

The one thing you need on survival is food.


I like spending time with my family.

I like playing, giggling

and also, well, talking to my family.

Rebecca, 10, celebrated what home means to her:
No. 1-2-3


If you’re going down the gardens,

be sure to stop by.

I’ll never forget that place,

1            2      -       3!

Now take a step inside,

this you may find:

a place full of memories,

1            2      -       3!

Up the stairs of wonder and joy

I have my bed, every toy.

All the squabbles, all the fights

1            2            3!

My home is for me





Tuesday 14th May
After warming up with a quick word game, we spent time today thinking about what home meant to us. We then used our ideas to help us write poems which we will write onto templates of houses in the next session. These will then be made into models and displayed in the Adur Festival's Pop-up Shop - a 3D map of Adur in East Street, Shoreham.
My Family
Home to me is exciting,
Especially when parents are fighting.
Max the invisible man,
My sister's really fake tan.
Dad's mood,
Nice food,
The books, the crooks.
All the snacks are caramelly,
But still, I have an awesome family.
Jake, 10
A Paradise but a Nightmare
The hole in my bedroom
is a tunnel to the outside world.
The animals come and chew on my stuff,
they burrow and give me carrots.
The budgies and birds fly in to sit on my arm.
I feed them bread and seeds.
My home is a paradise to animals and all
but also a nightmare to me -
a nightmare full of dreams.
Jamie, 8

Postcard Poems

posted Feb 26, 2013, 11:53 AM by Tess Jolly
Today in the group we spent time thinking about a nearby place, how we feel when we are there and who we might like to write a postcard to from that place. Sammy, 9, managed to condense a lot into the few words he used, and thought carefully about how to use the postscript and address to good effect:
Dear Dad,
Wish you were here
it's really fun
especially the whizz
popper sweets.
You would really like wizard
world because you're
a magician, it's
really exciting.
From Samuel
P.S Tap the
crack under the rug
to find me when it's dinner time.
Addressed to:
Mr Simon Vertue
15 Tristram Close
The Shed in the Garden

Different Perspectives

posted Feb 23, 2013, 6:52 AM by Tess Jolly
Rosie thought in great detail this week about how things look from different perspectives. She wove her ideas into a wonderfully dramatic poem:
Imagine you are tiny, you can fit inside a snowflake, it's cold
and calm with nothing else but you.
You can stand on someone's nose, hide up their
nostril and feel their warm breath.
Or how about walking on a book, with the letters
seemingly endless, and the white blindingly bright.
Look at the snowflake, crisp and white, and the
atmosphere is pleasingly refreshing.
The nose hairs are cuddly, soft and snug, and act like a
hairy blanket.
The book gets raised, and you cling to the sides,
trying to get a grip.
The colours flurry past you, and you watch as
light filters through.
The nose is moving, flexing around, and ... BANG!
They sneeze you out.
The sides are closing in, the book's shutting, you
That's what happened when I was tiny. How about

The Tadchild, the Butterpole and the Stepfly

posted Feb 18, 2013, 3:46 AM by Tess Jolly
Rebecca had fun this week mixing up words to create imaginative new definitions. Here is a glimpse into her highly original world:
The Firepiece is a separated piece of fire made by the Tad-tad.
It can only hop from rock to rock but cannot grow into a bigger flame.
The Mastermare is an evil, insane master who alwys has a pet Stepole.
He lives in the Canadian Mountains and is allergic to fluffy bunnies.
The Cococracker is a being who cracks coconuts forever.
However, the Cococracker cannot go faster than a Tadstep.
The Cocodragon is a coconut coloured dragon that breathes coconut fur.
The Cocodragon is a genius but can only Tadutter.

A Journey through Sound

posted Feb 11, 2013, 2:55 AM by Tess Jolly [ updated Feb 11, 2013, 11:49 AM]
This week we listened carefully to a series of sound effects, including the wind, waves, a horse, children clapping, dishes breaking, a door-knocker and a phone. We made notes on what we thought they might be and discussed our different responses. Rebecca described what she heard in this imaginative poem:
The tornado whizzes at the crickety grass
where dogs whistle.
The puffin stumbles on the windy hill
next to the bird sanctuary.
The skewbald horse panics in the farmyard
while the chicken pecks in the playpen.
The guy walks along the blue beach
and hears children clapping in the sea.
The chaotic dog jumps in the living room
and smashes windows and vases.
The random finishes the thing.

Secret Poems

posted Jan 13, 2013, 1:44 AM by Tess Jolly [ updated Jan 13, 2013, 3:02 AM]
The group worked hard this week imagining the secrets different animals and objcets might write in a diary. They then explored what a secret might be made from, where you might find it and what it could do. With the challenge of weaving their ideas into a poem, each child added their own individual style. Rosie, 10, used a repeating pattern to great effect as she explored the secrets a frog might tell:

Frog, I am

Stuck in a pipe, wet I am,

Wet and bejewelled, wise I am,

Wise as a lily leaf, cold I am,

Cold as a lightning bolt, quick I am,

Quick as a ripple, sealed I am,

Sealed in a swamp, a frog, I am.

Sammy, 8, imagined language as a powerful secret:


It's made from the farmers' best crops,

the manky old doorknob, and the blood of a board.

I found it on the ladder to hell, in the sparkly diamond cave

on the tongue of a bong bong bird.

It can squash the moon, fly to Mars and see

light in the darkest caves.

It's made from the flimsiest pipes.

I found it under your mattress.

It can take the shape of anything.

It is .... I'll tell you later.

Pirate Adventures!

posted Dec 10, 2012, 2:25 AM by Tess Jolly [ updated Dec 10, 2012, 2:25 AM]
Having worked at creating interesting characters using comic strips last week, this week we turned our comics into stories. Tom, 8, worked hard to come up with this amusing beginning to his story:
Inside an adventurous world, two pirates and a parrot were searching for gold. "So our treasure hunt is coming well, Mira, don't you think so?" Peter the pirate said.
"Uh, huh, but I don't think Mickey is against our hunt," Mira told Peter.
"Danger is soon! Danger is soon!" cried Mickey the witty parrot.
As the wind blew high on the ocean blue, Peter the pirate went to check the sea for land.
"Better check the land, I'm getting kinda hungry and we're running out of bananas!" Peter said.

Story Cubes

posted Nov 26, 2012, 3:02 AM by Tess Jolly [ updated Nov 26, 2012, 3:02 AM]
We had a fun session this week, using story dice to inspire us. Rosie, 9, came up with this beautifully descriptive piece:
The clock tower struck four and the red evening sun glinted in the water. Bella's fingers rippled the pool in the clear fountain. Suddenly, an eruption of noise happened all at once: the storm passing overhead rattled, and a finger of lightening forked through the sky. The fountain spurted an extra amount of water, soaking Bella in the warm liquid. Another fork pronged across the sunset and landed just before her feet. Bella jumped and panicked. Which way was home? Blindly, she ran, stumbling across the courtyard. Something on the path made her stop. An apple tree lay across her way to the tower, her home. She couldn't climb it, or move it out of the way, so she moved off to the left, towards the library. That night, she slept there and only the books were her company. By the time morning came, her father was standing over her. "Well, now you've learnt," he said "not to go off on your own!"

Crystal Poems

posted Nov 17, 2012, 11:47 AM by Tess Jolly [ updated Nov 17, 2012, 11:47 AM]
We looked carefully at a selection of crystals today, turning our observastions into poems. Hannah, 10, was inspired by a beautiful piece of fluorite:
My Favourite Fluorite
Inside it looks like heaven's pond,
With a lovely Queen's wicked wand.
Up high, aeroplanes flying,
Down below, waterfalls are crying.
Mountains clustered, crystals hiding,
Rolling on my hand, now it's formed
An imaginative band.
Rosie, 9, chose a piece of green agate carved into the shape of an egg:
Agate, agate
One of nature's miracles, trapped inside an egg,
As circular as the end of a wooden clothes' peg,
As smooth, slim and sleek
As a blackbird's beak.
Like a snakeskin, long since shed,
Lying in the sand,
As if once the snake shared the same old space,
With the stone having the upper hand.
A whirlpool of wonder, swinging round
Like a tornado, slender and pure,
So when you see it in the shop
You know it's the one for sure.
Devil horns, living inside
Pulsing and fluid, living free.
It's scratched and dented in my palm,
But it's the one for me!

Magnetic Poems

posted Nov 5, 2012, 2:04 AM by Tess Jolly [ updated Nov 5, 2012, 2:04 AM]
Using magnetic words, we created sentences and then chose our favourite to create a poem. Rebecca, 9, used the sentence 'Always paint from blue silent sense' as inspiration for this fantastic piece of writing:
Always Paint from Blue Silent Sense
hush the red and yellow and green,
shush the purple, pink and orange.
Wherever you're painting - easel, laptop or mind -
stick to blue and you will find
that blue is the colour, the colour of all.
If you go green, orange or red,
purple, yellow or pink,
then you will fall, fall of colour.
We are the lover, lover of blue
and we do it, do it not fur us, but for you.
If you paint with the blue, the blue, the blue,
if you paint with the blue, that is the true you.
Always paint from blue silent sense.
Rosie, 9, chose the phrase 'that music angel in chocolate' and created this intriguing poem:
My Flitty Little Angel

That music angel in chocolate does make a racket you know,
Up at three and wakes me, in our cosy bungalow.

Then one day she went, thanks to the sun , and now she is a puddle of Lindt,
And every time I think of her, I get the taste of mint.

I miss our little angel, harking out at dawn,
For when I hear that music, it makes me all forlorn.

But through the tears she came again, rushing through the clouds,
But instead of being chocolate, she’s made of solid ground!

Story Bags

posted Oct 31, 2012, 2:38 PM by Tess Jolly [ updated Nov 5, 2012, 2:09 AM]
Using three objects contained within a story bag he'd chosen, Sammy - 8 - invented a dramatic and strange world. Here is an excerpt from his story:
A man wearing a bowtie and a leather jacket was running around, a strange machine fire-extinguisher in his hand. The machine (Tardis Time And Relative Dimension in Space) was shaking violently as the man ran around it. Suddenly there was a groaning noise as he strapped a high-tech compass he'd stolen to the control panel. "Easy old girl" he said, as the machine doors burst open to see they were on a beach in London.
"Why did the tardis land here doctor?" said a red-haired girl called Amy.
"A power source pulled us here, there's something here that is powerful enough to rip us apart" replied the doctor.
"Let's just go on the pier" said Amy.
"Okay". Then the docor and Amy stepped out of a normal 1960 police box.
Suddenly the doctor swung round, and there stood a stone-carved angel holding a blue and gold star. "Ooh" said Amy, taking a photo of it, "this will go in my album."
"Wait" said the doctor, "I know that face. It's a weeping angel, run!" That's what they did. When they looked back, the statue was not there.
"It's moved!" gasped Amy.
"Look up" said the doctor, but it was too late.
Rosie, 9, wove a red slipper, a mirror and a shell in this richly descriptive tale:

Pippa was a kind girl. She had gone to the market and bought a tatty old slipper. It wasn’t in the best shape, but she loved it all the same. She loved the way it sparkled and gleamed in the dim shop light. It looked different from all the chewed-up children’s toys and decrepit Christmas decorations lining the shelves around the sad shop.

She paid the little old lady at the counter without looking up. Her mind was too busy focusing on the glittering shoe clutched in her hand. She walked out on to the overcrowded High Street, where the ‘British Red Cross’ sign loomed precariously, threatening to fall, above her head. But she didn’t mind, it was just the same as any other day on the High Street.

In fact, Pippa was so intrigued by its worn out insole that neither her, nor the vain woman coming towards her, noticed each other.


Pippa came round about half an hour after the woman had knocked her over: she was too busy fussing over herself in a small compact mirror.

She sat up, clutching her head in agony, and slowly made her way through the teeming crowd. When she had got in to a less crowded area, she anxiously dug through her bag, and, to her disappointment, the shoe wasn’t there.

What happened was that horrible, stuck-up woman, Pamela-Rose Anderson-Smith, had knocked poor Pippa on to the littered pavement outside the first-aid training school. She snapped shut the diamond-encrusted mirror, and tried to hide the fact the actual glass was unseeable through all the grime.

She looked down at Pippa sprawled out over the walkway, like she was something smelly a dog might have done. Her spiteful eyes flicked expressionless to the thing resting in the girl’s hand. She bent down, which was hard in her impossibly short mini-skirt pencil dress, and picked up the old shoe. It was a total contrast ! A picture-perfect catwalk model holding an old battered slipper. She held it as if she didn’t want to touch it, straightened up, and slung it carelessly in to her clutch bag. Then she opened her mirror again and strode off, her shell necklace clacking against her spray-tanned chest as she went.

Pippa was left alone on the pavement, until she was woken by a water droplet falling from the gutter above. So Pippa had no shoe, and felt terrible. She slumped through the charity shop door again and plonked down on an empty chair at the back of the shop.

Something caught her eye, and she stopped crying. A broad smile crossed her face. There was another shoe exactly the same.


Your draft posts: Untitled Post

Dice Stories

posted Oct 15, 2012, 2:17 AM by Tess Jolly [ updated Oct 15, 2012, 2:17 AM]
In last week's session on October 6th, we worked as a group to think up different elements to a story. We then rolled dice to randomly choose which of our ideas would be used as inspiration for our individual writing.
Sammy, 8, wove a trickster Voldemort and a brave princess into a story which starts in a bee's belly and ends in the headteacher's office! This is the fantastic beginning:
'The door burst open and there stood a brave princess. "It's my wed........."
Three days later the princess found herself in some sort of body (I'm sorry reader, but if you really want to know, as she was saying "wedding", Volde ... well you know who, stuffed her in a giant bee's mouth while he was doing evil stuff). As the princess got up she found out whose body she was in, because there was this sign that said WELCOME. TO. BEE'S. BODY. It was hard to miss actually. "Oh no" said the princess, it's supposed to be my wedding today and now I'm in bee's belly. Suddenly there was a puff of black smoke. The princess swung round, where was she?'
Rosie, 9, created her story around a miserable baddie called Saruman, and a brave princess. The story starts in a forest, and also ends in a headtacher's office. This excerpt starts at the point at which a singing Princess Philippa wants to kiss Saruman:
'Saruman groaned. Poisoned by her singing and possible now drowning in her kisses. "Oh darling," she started again, "come to me!" She puckered up and, with arms outstretched, began moving towards him. Saruman panicked. His hands flew to either side of his throne.
As Princess Philippa got closer, her eyes closed. She walked a little further, and her lips touched metal. She opened her eyes. Saruman was grinning wildly. With lips still kissing metal, she looked down. Two bazyka guns met her lips. She looked frantically back at Saruman, who just chuckled. "Too slow!" he chided. CLICK. He pulled the catch. His fingers threatened to pull the trigger.
... "My office, NOW!" Saruman put down the toilet paper tubes, and climbed down from the chair piled onto a table. He threw off his cloak and made his way past Sarah Petty, who was pretending to be dead on the floor. With head lowered, the little boy walked out of the room, followed closely by Mr Watson, the head teacher, and to the head teacher's office.'

Observation Poems

posted Oct 13, 2012, 7:31 AM by Tess Jolly [ updated Oct 13, 2012, 7:34 AM]
This week in The Shoreham Centre we took our notebooks downstairs to record our observations. Luckily for us, there happened to be a small market in the foyer with stalls selling beautifully crafted wooden objects decorated with pressed flowers, and homemade jam, marmalade, chutney and honey. The products offered some wonderful inspiration for our keen writers, who came up with carefully considered and accomplished poems.
A honey life-line of notebooks full of wonder,
and wardrobes full of secrets.
There are cages full of sad cobwebs
instead of a happy bird inside.
And don't forget the gummy sweets with sugar bees inside.
The fancy café, though no customers
selling PG Tips
with the monkey inside.
And all inside a world
inside the flower of the world.
by Rebecca, 9
October Market
Today I went down market
To look at all the stuff,
So when I couldn't get anything
I went off in a huff.
There were lots of stalls down market,
But what really caught my eye
Was a little stall in the corner
With knick-knacks all could buy.
That little stall down market
Was selling lovely things,
Lovely lilac wonder boxes
And a feeling only joy brings.
The other things down market
Didn't seem that cool to me,
They were made of glass and fabric,
But this, fresh from the tree.
Today I went down market
To look at all the stuff.
So when I couldn't get anything
I went off in a huff.
by Rosie, 9

Under the Heart of the Sun

posted Oct 3, 2012, 12:25 PM by Tess Jolly [ updated Oct 3, 2012, 12:25 PM]
Another great session this week with our budding writers. We looked in detail at what we could see in the room, through the window and in the corridow, then wove our observations into evocative poems.
In the Centre
by Rebecca
In the centre of the flame in the dark,
in the centre of a fish in the light,
in the centre of the painting in the snow,
in the centre of the newspaper of thunder,
in the centre of the shimmering heart,
in the centre of the radio of space,
in the centre of a brick at the end of the world.
by Hannah
Over the heart of the radio,
in the centre of the bird-crowded sky,
in the centre of the loud fire alarm,
over the bricks of the shining roof,
in the centre of the glowing rainbow,
over the lock of the moon,
why is it dark in the bark,
the reflection of the window?

The Button Box

posted Oct 1, 2012, 2:29 AM by Tess Jolly [ updated Oct 1, 2012, 1:11 PM]
We had our first session for 9-11 year olds last week. It was a joy to work with such inspired and motivated young writers. We played the button game - choosing a button from a box and imagining what type of garment it might have come from and who might have worn it - and then wrote stories and poems based around our ideas. Rosie came up with the original idea to write from the point of view of a button called Phil, but known as Oreo because of his colouring! Every night Oreo slips off his 'old man's cardigan' and heads off on his adventures down under the floorboards. Here is an excerpt from her impressive story:
So I rolled past the ancient telly and slowed down at The Crack. The Crack is about, how do you say, um, about eight of your human millimetres. Slip through, done. Then I roll myself up the sides of the tunnel, and then roll on. The spider in there is very useful. Every evening he has a dusty web waiting for me, not that he knows it's gone. He just makes another one.
That web attaches itself on either side of me and I keep going. I keep going and prepare myself for the jump. It isn't that exciting. It's just a hop off a ledge and a plunge into utter darkness. No, not that exciting at all.
The web billows out like a parachute. I slow down. Sometimes it takes for ever to get down. So I come prepared. You see, sometimes Jim leaves his old newspapers out. With a quick rip and a fold over, a little button-sized paper. The old bird will never find out.