Competition 2022

I am Night Owl, how do you see me?
A figure in the trees,
in the shadows of the wood.
The silhouette that swoops,
unlike any bird ever could.
My piercing eyes,
they gaze through your soul,
my cleaving claws,
they ripple a hole.

I am Night Owl, when do you hear me?
A hoot after dark,
in the dead of night;
I'm only an owl,
no need to fright,
my lashing wings,
that carry me afar,
I speed through the wind,
as I reach for the stars

I am Night Owl, what do you call me?
King of the Night,
nocturnal-peeker,
invader of trees,
high-up sleeper,
shredder of mice,
shadow-soldier,
the heart of the forest,
and sky-holder.

I am Night Owl, why do you need me?
I am the phantom,
your ghoul, your core,
spirit of wisdom,
all forest lore,
white is my passion and
white is my role
and white is the light of your inner soul.

Rachel Rooney said: “Some lovely imagery, turns of phrase, deft rhymes. Atmospheric. Sustained quality. Cameron's sophisticated and evocative use of language and imagery won the day.”

I wanted to write about squirrels.
My favourite bushy-tailed creature.
But nothing quite rhymes with squirrels.
And rhymes are my poem’s best feature.

I wanted to write about birds.
I watched and I waited all day.
But sadly the thing about birds
is that most of them just fly away.

I wanted to write about bees
(in fact I’d already begun).
But the problem with studying bees
is the constant fear that you’ll be stung.

I wanted to write about sloths.
And all the things they get up to.
But the Inconvenient Truth about sloths
is there’s quite little they actually do

I wanted to write about turtles
I’m fond of them with such conviction
That I cried when I first read that turtles
Are facing the threat of extinction…

…as are more than 41,000 other species, according to the International Union for Conservation of Nature. That’s shocking, isn’t it? But it’s not too late to start preserving our planet! I know you may think that you are just one girl or just one boy but, in truth, if you imagine the possible amount of people all reading this poem and putting some elbow grease into helping our planet then the world could be so much better! Us children are the future of our planet. Let’s make that future a safe haven for the animal population of Earth.

Rachel Rooney said: “It's funny, playful and has a sophisticated twist in each verse. Rhythm and rhyme almost spot on. I kinda love that it reels you into a false sense of security through jaunty verse and then leads you to a rousing prose speech via the turtles!”

Shyly hiding out of harm's way,
perched high up upon an old dead branch,
scanning the water for its prey.

A small glimmer of a chest that looks like fire.
A shimmering of blue and green.
A silent fisherman with his beautiful bright plumage
ready to strike for his tea.

One fatal swoop down
the river dweller dives,
striking the fish,
then back up he flies.
Hiding away where? 
Nobody knows.

The King of the river.
The Kingfisher.

Rachel Rooney said: “I chose this for its economy of language, no wasted words or images. Its brevity mirrored the subject matter and the action within poem. It felt very pupil-led and experienced/ observed.”

Nature is a gem,
Chipped and scarred by men,
The men who claimed to love her.
 
Nature is a gem,
A light in the dark,
A light that is slowly fading.
 
Nature is a gem,
The saviour of men,
The saviour who cannot be saved.
 
Nature is a gem,
A lake in a desert,
A lake that has been drunken till dry.
 
 
Nature is a gem,
The mother of so many,
So many hellbent to destroy her.
 
Nature is gem,
Chipped and scarred by men,
The men who claimed to love her.

Rachel Rooney says: “Nice structure. Good use of repetition. Interesting images. Deep theme with a light touch.”

Step over the fence,
over goes the wheelbarrow.
We cross the road and follow the path.

If we are lucky we might see
the green woodpecker or a muntjac.

Bumpity bump goes the barrow.
How high is the spring today?

Saying hello to four-legged furry friends
and listening to the birds.

Crunching the twigs and the leaves
in the forest to the gate.
Over goes the barrow and me.
Open the gate with our key.

Follow the path to number 72,
looking at all the changes.
It's my turn to get the hose
and count the waterboatmen in the water butt.

Raking over the weeds
to help the birds find worms.
We pick squash and rest on the bench
enjoying the sunshine.

Rachel Rooney says “I liked the fact the poem made an everyday subject matter interesting. You go with the poet on a journey from the very first line. Good specific details about the muntjac, water boatman, number 72 etc Felt very personal & real. Ends satisfyingly.”

I had gone out to play,
when I heard someone say, 
that they needed to change, 
but the thing that was strange, 
was the voice that had spoken,
meant my garden had woken.

And it talked and it talked and said many a thing, 
and I listened and heard as it started to sing.

Let me show, let me grow, just not in those neat rows, 
let me twirl, let me whirl, I have no time to slow
and while everything flows you can walk in bare toes 
and absorb all the wonder around you. 

Touch the dirt, catch a frog, find a marvellous rock,
eat a pea, climb a tree, just enjoy to be free. 

Let the sunflowers grow, let them shine let them glow,
let them reach very high, let them kiss the  blue sky.

Climb up higher and higher, see the sky become skyer. 
You will feel that you’re living.
What a gift I am giving.

Be a child that is wild in the garden that smiled 
because you were an excellent listener.

I said  'Garden I see, you just want to grow free.'
You are right my odd child, could you please call me wild.

Rachel says: “I chose this for its free-flowing, liberated quality! The poet is clearly having fun playing with words, rhythms and rhymes. It's exuberant and unrestrained like a wild garden or a wild child :)

Why do you sparkle? I asked the ocean.
So golden like shimmering crystals.

I sparkle, said the ocean
Because the fishes love me more.

Where do you end? I asked the ocean,
From depths and surfaces below.

I end, said the ocean, because
the fishes won't live for long.

Why do you dazzle? I asked the ocean.
So shiny like shimmering emeralds.

I dazzle, said the ocean, because
the sun shines on me.

Rachel Rooney says “A simple but positive poem with a hint of a warning re environment. Nice call & response feel.”