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At Rougham Primary we love to experiment with words, patterns and ideas in our writing.  Here is a small sample of poetry sent to the Suffolk Young Poets' Competition this year.


Enjoy our wizardry with words...



My First Word


When I was a baby

I couldn’t speak,

When I was a baby,

I couldn’t walk on my feet,

When I was a baby

I could speak but one word,

It was ... chicken.

My mum was amazed!


By Liam Wilding





Looming shadows lurking,

Howling wind brushes past,

Skeletal shapes slinking smoothly,

Whispering trees haunt you with cruel secrets.


Voices engulf the deadly hallways,

Shivers enchant your spine

As you lock the final creaking door with a slam.


The frustrated floorboards wail

With each fragile footstep you make.

Yank the heavy and stiff oak door shut and never speak of the place again.


By Eva Da Re




Shiny silver,

Rusty black,

The padlock sits,

And locks you back.

Once locked inside the palace gates,

When everyone is not awake,

Someone unlocks the palace gates.

The stolen padlock now waits here,

And now I have told you its rusty year.


By Lola Peacock



The black and white dog


The black and white dog ran off

Ran off to the A14

By the side of the road was the black and white dog.

It’s not the black and white dog now

It’s the dead dog now.

The sobbing of the family of the black and white dog

The black and white dog.


By Alex Bowers



The Candles Light


First lit in 1955

By an escapee

Trying to find hope for his future.

Pushed out of a window in 1965,

Picked up by a young boy.

Lit up his home,

But burnt it down.

Next found in England,

Lighting up their souls.

The flame will never, ever end.



By Alice Clark




The Cat’s First Word


The cat was laying

The cat stretched

The cat made a noise

The cat started to sneeze

Oh no said mum

Oh no said dad

Oh no said everyone

The cat moved his head

Up and down, up and down

Everyone froze in fright

What could this be? I thought

What could this be?

Then the cat said hello

In a croaky voice like thunder

Before he let out a fur ball.


By Mila Lowe



When I looked in the mirror...


I look in the mirror,

And what do I see?

Not an image of me ,

But my nightmares...


A rearing horse, his eyes were wide,

Flashing lights, blindingly bright.

A barking dog, woof, woof, woof,

What does this mean...?


A wailing child with a tear-stained face,

A red eyed owl staring deep into me.

Beaming headlights, scanning through the darkness,

What does THIS mean...?


I looked in the mirror

And what I did see,

Will haunt me forever,

Again and again

Time after time...


By Isabelle Philip



The keys as black as coal


As dark as night,

As black as coal,

What do they unlock?


The bullies in the hallway,

Why are they so cruel?

Making the “unpopular’s” day get swallowed up in a black hole,

When will they stop?


I push them in,

I lock the door,

They beg to be let out

Screaming, crying,

And now they know how it felt.


Now everyone knows about the keys,

The ones all rusty and grey,

For a while I’m the happiest person alive.

But as usual I become the one everyone hates,

I’m falling into a deep sleep, drowning in melt.


As dark as night, as black as coal,

Lying in the darkness.


I had to leave them behind,

For I am not what they need,

I am much less, much, much less!

By Lily Taylor



The Red Dress


Keep this a secret...

My colour is like red lipstick

On puckered lips.

I’m very neat and elegant

And I go with high heels on your feet.

I’m also like a pool of blood,

You can’t swim in me.

I’m a dangerous piece of clothing:

It’s because of my shade!


By Tilly Green



The Unbelievable Stone


It came from the final time line

The darkest devourer, the last ever hope.

No one would guess a stone

Is the survival of the infinite fireball of space,

The burning light of the darkest power.

Yet now it can still be anywhere in the multi-universe,

It can be a pirate’s wish or a god’s power,

A frozen timeline, the time of invincible ages.

The unbelievable stone.


By William Evans




The Friday Night Smell

I love the Friday night small of mama baking bread

Creeping up to me in bed and the zzz

I fall asleep

Before I even get a bite.

When morning comes

You can bet I’ll meet a kitchen table laden with bread,

Still warm and fresh,

Salt bread,

Crisp bread.


Bt Sebastiano Da Re



The Death Box


This is a secret I’ll never tell anyone

But I hold some blood from a pirate

Who slayed a shark and killed a crew.

Then I sank in the ocean

Got buried in sand.

That’s where I stand now all alone in the ground.


By Ghyll Woodhouse