DEVISED POEMS BY GROUP 2

Summer
The sky is a blank sheet of music notes, stationary and useless.
The sun is as strong as the beat of a drum,
The hard surface won’t crack under any light.
The grass is as brown as a violin and as sharp as a note being played.
Bees buzzing as loud as a person singing down a mic!
Now summer is over the light begins to dim as the bees start to die out.
Now I think the sun is asleep.
Stephanie Norton

Summer Pudding
In the oven of the park,
The lawn is a crisp flapjack,
Where hampers of picnickers are dotted
Like chocolate chips.
The wasps fizz like lemonade.
The ants create a crumble on the cup-cakes.
It is a trifle warm.
In an instant, a dream-topping of stormclouds
Sprinkles hundreds and thousands of raindrops.
Summer’s pavlova.
Henrietta Butler

Summer Golf
The sun is a golfball flying majestically through the air.
The clubs are the sea, reflecting the sun’s rays.
The people on the beach, desperate for water,
Like a golfer desperate for a hole in one.
Suntan lotion is a cover for a club protecting it from damage.
A tee holding the sun in its place.
The ball flies through the sky, it’s a birdie!
I scream when the ball goes into the hole.
The atmosphere hotted up around me,
like the temperature rising on the beach.
Thomas Brooker

Summer Football
There they are, the greatest team of bees,
Playing with the ball of the sun.
The dried grass pitch beneath them, as brown as a bull.
The supports of the clouds, cheering in the sky.
A World Cup of honey as a prize.
Buzzing triumphantly, under the Mexican Wave of heat
The hives of the goals swaying in the breeze.
The temperature rising as the game blazes on.
The stupid bees, dribbling as they move around, beaten and braking.
James Noble

War With Summer
Courageous army of bees versus malicious armada of wasps,
The shooting of envious droughts, washing down the heat and anger.
Mob of bees stinging like cuts,
That ruddy plastered man! Stab the dreary gr-asshole!
This despite will not crack in any light,
Commands from the clouds; "Pour down with rain, like exploding bombs!"
But the battle with the Sun?
That is lustful and far fetched.
Dry as dying petals, brown and crumpled,
Killed in anger by the conflict of blaze.
Lying on the cracked floor,
Clutching the chest of the burning suntan.
How can you relax?
The heat is a ragged star, forget about the tales.
Blood oozing like extinct water.
A battle with summer?
That contradicts the leader.
Hatred and avarice is this quilt.
Carys Lewis

Summer Skating
The summer is a skatepark.
Somewhere full of fun.
The clouds ollie through the sky
With wheels round like the sun.
The summer is a skatepark.
Somewhere hot and sweaty.
Bumble bees grind the flower stems
On their search for honey.
Danny Hammond

Summer
I put in the disk as round as the sun.
The game loads like flower buds opening
Blooming into flashes of light
It’s level 1, ‘The Invasion of the Mob of Bees’
This game is hard.
Oh no, it’s the bumble-bee boss!
My health’s getting low.
He’s like a swarm of ants set out to take my life like a picnic.
Yes! He’s dead! On to level 7.
Danny Hammond

Summer
As hot as a gunshot,
The sun is a bomb,
Gradually falling to the west.
The grass is green,
Like a pack of soldiers.
The plain is humid,
Everyone is tired.
A truck full of flies.
The buzzing of a grenade.
The beach is empty,
Just a dead city.
A nice drink of cold fresh water,
Like victory to a country or side.
Your first ice cream of the day,
Your first piece of food of the war.
Evening comes,
The sun is vibrant,
Could this be the end?
Aaron Wilkins