Hi all,
Thank you for all your wonderful poetry so far. You’ve been very generous sharing your poems with us.
Please leave your comments on Gwendolyn Brooks’ poem here and also share any poems you have created with us.
Hi all,
Thank you for all your wonderful poetry so far. You’ve been very generous sharing your poems with us.
Please leave your comments on Gwendolyn Brooks’ poem here and also share any poems you have created with us.
children grow,
play,paint faces ,
wonderful and brave,
then don’t want to be sick.
Adults try not to be bad,
honest,a good life,
a cold winter
makes them sick
Hi,
Thank you for sharing your poem. Did you create this through the words from Brook’s poem?
You’ve created a clear contrast between the children and adults. Did you consider splitting this into two stanzas rather than one? Would it work?
children grow,
play,paint faces ,
wonderful and brave,
then don’t want to be sick.
Adults try not to be bad,
honest,a good life,
a cold winter
makes them sick
this poem is really good i wish i was as good as you
Old life
I stayed indoors for all my life
wonderful but boring
the front door was locked with a gate
I couldn’t reach i really am honest i want to go outside
i want to give money to charity
now i am free
i get to do what i like
Hi,
Thank you for sharing your poem. Is the speaker of your poem the same speaker as in Brook’s poem or someone different?
I want to be brave, to walk in the streets
I want to be able to go out in the night
I`m really sick of wearing stockings
I gaze out of the window and no one wears them
everyone facepaints
everyone plays
but I do not because I want to grow.
Hi,
I really like the start of your poem and the way you’ve played with the language and themes of the original.
Keep up the hard work.
I’m Normal
very wonderful
and I love to
be brave
and look at
a rose all
day but
I love to
play and pain’t
I’m always
honest, my face
is always happy
I love to be very
untended
(But I love to be black the most)
Hi Archie,
I’m interested in your last line… is this inspired by the poem? Do you think the poem deals with black identity and a sense of pride? Or do you think Brooks the poet promotes this?
indoors is jail
it makes me sick
life is bad for me
I am untended
I am planning to do
something for charity
my mother always sneers at me
outdoors is wonderful
you get to play
on the streets
I picked a rose
from my yard
I am brave
my life is fun
In winter I have
wonderful snowball fights
Hi,
This is a clever poem… you re-use the language of the original but change the structure but your poem still conveys the same message as the speaker of the first poem.
Keep up the hard work.
We thought Gwendolyn Brooks made a great poem and we loved the way she used symbolism. We made our own, we hope you like it:
A New Life
Life used to be a walk in the park
wearing bright stockings and
having warm cozy winters.
Roses growing in our large yard.
I was always brave,
it was wonderful.
Now… life is miserable
like being in jail .
It’s rough being sick
untended in winter.
Now this is my life,
on the street
Hi,
I’m really pleased you enjoyed the poem. Perhaps you could tell us more about Brook’s use of symbolism?
Again I like the contrast in your poem between the stanzas and I like the way the flower imagery continues through your poem with the “untended” humans of stanza two.
Congratulations on your poem and thank you for sharing it with us.
A rough time in Jail
while the criminals sneer at the Officers
also while the bad people smoke
It is a sick disgusting place
In the outside world their is wonderful people
sweet roses and brave like Hulk
They love their wonderful life
with at monumental smile.
Hi,
I understand why you are drawn to the jail aspect of the poetry.. it’s quite unexpected in the poem and makes us think about the consequences of the girl having her freedom.
Sick of life living in a cell
Sit down and think what you have done
When it’s winter your free to go in the summer
Back in the prison yard to think
Please make me bale from this prison cell
Roughness is hard to fight i let go and wait the night.
Hi,
Fantastic internal rhyme in your last line brings your poem to a memorable close and places the emphasis on “night”….
Keep up the hard work.
Hi all ,great poems are being published carry on the hard work
At the front of the gate in my yard watching the black sky in the winter.mothers thinking their wonderful trying to be honest but really their being bad.
hi Brian and Ghaith.
What a fantastic first line. It feels like something terrible is about to happen.
I wonder if you thought how you could use commas in that first line to change the pace?
In the brave,rough,black streets
children play in the winter night.
they’re face full of wonderful
paint mother hates jail
Hi Ahmed and Meysa,
Your poem is an excellent example that you don’t have to write lots to have an impact. I like your use of commas in the first line and the list you build immediately sets the scene. The contrast between the wonderul faces of the children and the jail for the mothers works well too.
You should be very proud of your poem. Keep on working hard.
The black sick rose grows in the
front yard.
Brave wonderful mother stayed.
Do you like our poem? We like it because it makes us feel that even when there’s trouble, there’s somebody there for us.
We liked Gewndeloyn Brook’s poem because she made us think and feel. We could imagine the girl and her life. We think she must have been very lonely.
Thanks!
Hi Fadima and Dennis,
I like your poem very much. I also like the way you’ve explained what your intention was. Your poem is symbolic…the rose stands for more than a rose.
You’re going to learn more about symbolism in the next poems.
Keep up the hard work.
Peek through the rosey winter night
bad life time but it grows better
At charitys sick and unfrotunate children play and have a wonderful time.
The poems are great because there’s alot of imagination and effort
put into them.
Hi Rohan and Honey,
What a great idea to start a poem with the word “peek” it immediately launches us into the poem and in a way as readers we are peeking into the poem.
I agree the poems are great because of the effort everyone is putting in and their imagination. Thank you both for all the effort you’ve both put in so far.
At the front of the gate in my yard watching
the black sky in the winter.Mothers thinking there
wonderful trying to be honest but really there being bad.
Rough paint front gate
children play
streets sneers
bad life
untended night.
We liked Gwendolyn Brooks poem because it was about life and sadness. It was very real. It made me think: What is a good life; what is a bad life?
Thanks!
Hi Robert and Ruman,
I think you’ve identified the big question within Brooks’ poem. I think she is asking: what is a good life/bad life. Do you think she answers the question within her poem?
I really like the balance of your first line and the wonderful “streets sneers” this is personificaiton … when you give human qualities to an inanimate object.
Rough black streets sneers
Woman strut
Brave and fierce
Winter night grows
Children play with sick face paint!
Do You like our poem?
We done it like this because it makes us think about the back yard( where posh rich people dont like to go) and we imagined the girl(on Brooks poem) dreaming about the back yard and walking bravely and fiercely,wering strutes and playing with sick face paint in the rough black streets.Because she online could go in the front yard.
Hi Serena and Rihab,
Yes we liked your poem very much. It’s interesting to read your reasons for composing the poem. The strutting woman seems very defiant.
Keep up the hard work.
Black winter in the untended alley the children
play. Their sick mother with her
rose face stayed brave
By Baran and Tyrone
We loved the Gwendolyn Brooks poem when we took words out and made our own poems.
Hi Tyrone and Baran,
Thank you for sharing your poem. I’m pleased you liked Brooks’ poem. Your is very good too… I like the idea of a “rose face”.
Keep up the hard work.
I wrote this poem with my mum.
Bury me deep inside your heart
don’t even let me go away
please be with me and stay.
Even thouth you love to hate
I feel like this is fate please
love me as I do
you made my dream come true.
I sleep in silence
iIdream in darkness
just hold me tight
keep me away from the light
bury me in the dark inside of your heart.
Hi Robert (and Robert’s Mum),
Thank you for sharing your poem with us. Many famous poets wrote poems together. It’s useful as you can discuss ideas.
I find the way your speaker is drawn to darkness rather than light very interesting…it’s not what we expect.
Look forward to reading more of your poems soon.
Purple is a painful bruise on your arm
sometimes it hurts but it does no harm.
The deep, dark vast night sky
the moon and stars so high!
Purple is a pouting frown
souring through the clouds.
The stunning iris flower
stands out in the garden with power.
Plums are the best when nice and ripe
but other fruits are not exactly my type.
Purple is royalty, proud as rock
sometime i feel purple can talk.
Hi Honey,
You have some wonderful expressions in your poem….”the pouting frown”…and the bruise that does no harm.
I think you have a lot of promise as a poet. To develop your work further carefully consider every word you use..For example the fourth line from the end doesn’t seem as strong as the others… Can you keep your poetry stunning and engaging the whole way through?
John cena use to be a cleaner,
scrubbing floors and walls,
then he got angry and became more
meaner,
now he breaks stools,off wwe walls,
now he is a wrestler,
fighting all of his old enemies,
now he dos’nt have to move to
Chester,
he can focus on winning the world heavyweight championship belt,
at hell in a cell
Hi Brian,
You can tell you really like John Cena and I found your poem quite funny at times. It’s good to write about matters that you know and care about.
Keep up the hard work.
A perfect world
always sunny
no violence
beautiful creatures
tasty food
good people
nothing goes wrong
everything shared
nobody angry
smiles:)
I developed form a list I wrote about my perfect world. Hope you like it!
Hi Ghaith,
That’s an interesting approach to take one form of writing “a list” and make it into another “poetry” …Your perfect world sounds like a lovely place.
Every time I look up at the stars I feel a tingle working up my body.Its almost as if the stars are coming to me like an astroyed . People dont even notice the stars but I do your my friend always.
Hi Ahmed,
This is a powerful piece of writing…your simile is original and conveys the strong feelings. I think your poetry will get even better if you start to use line breaks and stanzas to structure your work.
Good job I could really under satnd what you was talking about
Consoles
Games that everyone can play so no one gets bored
of the day thats why we play all day.
We need accesorries to play we all buy so anyone can give it a try. We all play to have some fun sorry the day is done.
Everyone had a laugh no one has argued about a thing everyone had a turn to pluck on string. Dont go stay and have fun sorry my life is done.
Hi Tyrone,
I think a poem about a computer game or games could be really interesting. Why not write one about your favourite game or character and try to convey the excitement you feel. I’d like to read it.
Front Yard
Brave woman honest mother
Winter stocking charity gate
Children paint strut play
Dark time, black streets
Bad night untended life
Life
Thank you
We liked the story and the way it was written
We love doing POETRY!
hope you like it
Hi Alexia and Kareemah,
Thank you for sharing your poem. I like the way you structured your poem with 4 words on each line ….perhaps a comma between the two and two words would work well? Your poem feels very balanced.
I’m so pleased you’re enjoying reading the poetry. Your starting to write very good poetry too so keep on working hard and thank you for all your ideas so far.
A dark gloomy night
The moon shines bright
The streets are still
Mr Fox is out hunting for a meal
Illuninous eyes peeking through the trees
When Mr fox comes close
Mr Owl will Flee
Hi Dennis,
Thank you for sharing your poem with us. You create an atmosphere very quickly with your focus on the colours and movement. I like the way you start a line with “Illuminous” it links with the colours before.
Keep up the hard work.
In the black jail,
stayed a honest woman
who got for somthing she never did.
After a while the owner owned up
and said she was innocent
so she got set free and lived her life as if it never happend.
We liked the poem because it makes you think of different lives and how it feels to be in jail also it makes us happy because the ending she got set free and lived her life happily.
Hi Ruby and Jannat,
Thank you for sharing your poem with us. I think a lot of poets aim to show us different lives. I think you’re also right that you’re happy with your own poetry … I think you’ve got some good ideas about writing poetry that you should continue to explore.
This woman stayed In a yard,
With a brave , honest, mother.
She found it hard with just a brother.
The boy was a bad man in jail,
He only ate bread that was stale.
As soon as he came back from jail,
He had to stay on the streets,
He had to lie his body on the concrete.
WE enjoyed writing the poem. bye !
Hi Kevin and Adan,
Thank you for sharing your poem with us. It’s interesting that a number of you have focused on the jail aspect of Brooks’ poem. It is a surprise when she mentions it and therefore perhaps it stays with us afterwards.
The jail gate opens, women’s children sleep on the sick streets as winter’s curse freezes the warmest of hearts.
we loved Gwendolyn Brooks poems she is awesome
Hi Waled and Faisa,
I’m glad you liked Brooks; I like the poem too. I really like your ending with “the curse” and freezing of warm hearts.
Perhaps you could use line breaks to bring emphasis to certain phrases?
Keep up the hard work.
The yellow rose has a wonderful fragrence,
The children always wear face paint,
They never stop playing their fun enjoyable games,
Running around and around until the duck catches the geese.
Hi Naz and Jack,
That’s a lovely opening line. Perhaps you could spend some time planning your poem before starting so you know where you want it to lead to.
1 The charity is brave and honest.
2 it paint’s a wonderful rose.
3 jail life is rough at night.
4 stockings snerrs at children
Hi Tre and Laura,
You’ve got some interesting lines here… I think the next challenge is for you to connect your ideas together…perhaps using connectives might help?
The jail gate opens,
Women’s children sleep on the sick street
As winter’s curse freezes the warmest of hearts.
We loved Brook’s poems, she is amazing.
Hi Waled and Faisa,
I’m really pleased you liked the Brooks’ poem. I like your poem. It’s an example that you don’t have to write lots …what’s important is you think about what you write… and you’ve done that.
The charity’s wonderfully brave
Children are sick of waiting all day
The black gates open as the moon shines bright
It’s not the same thing as last night
The winter goes cold as the night sky
I sat near my window waiting for mother to arrive
I smelt the rose and I knew it was a sign,
However she did not come
Hi Kirsty and Nadine,
I really like your poem. I like the way you delay the arrival of a person so when they appear it seems all the more interesting. Also I like the mystery of why the mother didn’t arrive.
Promising work. Please keep on sharing your poetry.
Sick streets on children are not always
nice robbery,corruption and homelessness.
streets push you to the limit of you becoming
someone you dont know anymore .
thieving to survive and thrive to conquer to
have a life and have a job.
streets can never be nice even if you be
nice to it can always lead you to danger
and unsucessfulness if you put your trust
on the street.
Hi Kevin and Cyrone,
This is a powerful poem. It feels edgy and sinister…Poets often look at those who are outside normal life and I think your poem does this too.
Keep up the hard work.
The poor homeless children
staying on the streets,
begGing for a shelter
Children asking for a new family,
people are raising charity
tring to keep the humans ALIVE
people begGing for money
people staying in the steet with illness
HI Ramsi and Fortune,
Thank you for sharing your poetry with us.
It’s interesting the way you’ve focused on poverty which Brooks’ suggests in her poem …
Keep up the hard work.
Therse’s was a dark black street near the Jail
A mystery face under the shadow
A woman screamed HELP HELP
Then she had been grabed to the darkness…
She fainted in a unknown place
Then saw the terrifying face
She thought to herself do i know this young man with a scar on his face…
Hi Leanne and Fathi,
Thank you for sharing your poem with us. This is a disturbing poem and you leave us with a sense of mystery.
I’d like to see you experimenting with punctuation too next time so you can control the pace of your poem.
Keep up the hard work.
I Miss You
By Mya PB
A woman sits in a small jail,
Paint smothered across her honest face,
She was sick of this place,
So she stared into the black night.
A child struts around her back yard
This used to be hers and her mothers,
Winter starts to grow,
As tears runs down her face.
The woman thinks about her child,
Where is she? How is she?
She could be at the back of an alley,
I miss you.
How are you mummy?
A child sits on a park bench where her
And her mum used to sit,
I miss you.
Hi Mya,
Thank you for sharing your poem with us.
It’s good to see you constructing your poems into stanzas with four line each. It gives a balance to your poem. I also like the way the mother and daughter’s lines reflect each other.
Keep up the hard work.
ON THE GOLDEN RIDE
I was sailing on the golden ride
Which children don’t seem to mind
Which was really captained by Sir Naghib James
So read this sea sick rap!!!!!
It wasn’t so bad
So listen so hard
We won the Armada
So I told Obama
So read this sea sick rap!!!!!
Rata ta tat tat
Do hit me with a bat
Life on ride
Is so tight
So read this sea sick rap!!!!!
Hi Naghib,
Thank you for your poem. It made me smile. If you like rhyming and rapping keep on using this style and see where it leads you.
Keep up the good work.
Womans life
The woman was sick
She came from a rough background
Strutting her stockings
Sitting in a winter front yard
Peeking in from a window.
Sneers at the idea of a jail
Comes in late at night
Wearing black lace
Children wear winter clothes
Unattended in an abandoned gate alley.
Raymond Williams
Hi Raymond,
Thank you for your poem.
It seems a snapshot of an individual’s life. I like the way you’ve used some of Brooks’ vocabulary but created your own idea from them.
Keep on working hard on your poetry.
thank you Mr walsh you have opened my mind and ideas and filled them full of poetry and this competion to for that i am very greatfull
The Fire
By Che
Fire, fire in the sky
Ashes floating and blowing high
Taken victims one by one
Blazing like the hot red sun.
Calling the fire brigade
From down the street
The owners have no place to eat.
The streets filled with untended children
Crying crying eying the blaze
Children never using the phrase
“the great fire.”
The things they suffered
Not told but muttered
Slowly leave there mind
Thanks to the fire brigade
Hi Che,
I like the start of your poem with the repetition of “fire” bringing a sense of panic and urgency. It’s an interesting idea to consider different moments of time in poetry.
I look forward to reading your next poem.
A winters night
By oisin Mcginley
The night was bad it was winter
It was not a night for playing games
A women had a black lace
Her children grow in the whirling wind
Sick people stayed brave in the snow.
Dead people rose wearing black.
Life you could not fell
Prisoners shouted words that made me sick.
Poetrey compertion Week 3 2013
Hi Oisin,
Thank you for your poem.
You have some lovely phrases and images here and I like the way the “me” appears at the end of the poem. Always try to use the best possible word…for example could you make your poem better by changing “bad” in line one to another word?
The game
By finlay
I sit in the black room
Doing my own thing
I sit there thinking
I can beat the rest
But I can go to jail
For being honest
Then people will say yay he’s gone
I stare at the weedy garden front out the window
Honestly I want to get out
No one will let me out
Maybe soon
I get out to the wonderful yard
But people sneer
But what for
I live with regret with all my life
Hi Finlay,
Thank you for sharing your poem with us.
You use a speaker to tell your poem and this is an interesting technique as we learn a lot about them. When using a speaker consider what language you give them…for example a child would use very different language to an adult.
I went jogging
My mum says your lace
Then I say
I can’t keep the pace
I love my parents
Great I now have debate
I went to school
They say what a fat gate
My brother is a snitch
I hate my brother obeying
And about your sister to
And I see my sister playing.
Hi Aaron,
I think you might like rhyming words… if so keep on trying them out. I think your poetry might improve if you plan what it is you want to say before starting and then use rhyme…
Keep on working hard on your poetry.
Christmas time for the poor
The winter grows rough,
Children wear black lace
Stockings stayed hanged
On an unattended gate
Charity life which,
Scares me night time grows
Stand brave be honest help
Others who are in need even
If you are poor
Painted muddy faced on the ground
Abandoned rusted metal
Soup cans snow falling on the face of the
Needy (can you imagine if it’s a child)
By Ebika pinneh
Hi Ebika,
Thank you for sharing your poem with us.
I like the images of abandonment you paint in the final stanza. Your descriptions are very vivid.
i think you might like to consider how you punctuate your poetry next time.
Keep up the hard work.
There I was glazing out of the window seeing people having a good life and having a good life. I am feeling bad because I have a bad life all my parents hate me and I always have trouble, before we had long walks on the beach and trips to the candy shop. But now dark night’s dark room bad woman black gate broken and dangerous places I will not be bad ever again and I will not hurt my friends this is my bad life and at least I have a life and I will only have one.
Hi Tavio,
That’s a moving piece of writing that taps into a range of emotions.
I think next time you should consider using line breaks to structure your poetry.
Keep up the hard work.
An untended alley
A wonderful woman with her children
In their little house in the alley
a painter asked the lady for paint
The lady said no her children said yes lots
But the lady said no not for you, you are poor
The next house was very poor
But the painter said let’s try
The front yard was untended
But when he knocked on the door there was an answer
A poor woman the man asked for the paint
The wonderful woman asked what it was for
He said it was for the Jail
the wonderful woman only had a little bit for gate
but she said yes
By Kayla
HI Kayla,
This is an unusual poem. It reminds me of a parable. Do you know what one is? I think you might like to consider adding more description next time as this feels like a story… how could you make it more poetic?
Life week 3
Mothers on the streets
In the winter abyss
Comforting their only hope
, Their children.
Life can be rough
As you can see
Sick children, sick mothers
Facing me.
AS I pass I peek back
I can see their sad faces
I don’t know what to do
I’m mad.
That Is Life.
By Gabriele St. Joseph’s catholic primary school
Hi Gabriele,
Thank you for sharing your poem with us.
I like the way you’ve experimented with commas in different places. I wonder what other punctuation you could use within your poem.
I think this is a promising poem. I look forward to reading more of your work soon.
The one Rose in a yard week 3
The one rose in a yard
In among the weeds
The weeds grow rough,
Covering and jailing the rose
With a black glossy gate
Time goes by, but still
Nobody saves the poor rose.
By Lois A
Hi Lois,
Thank you for sharing your poem with us. I like the image of the lone rose struggling against the weeds. This feels symbolic. You’ll learn more about symbolism in the next poems we study.
The Untended stockings,
ruined and broke,
Before black lace used to be worn
Paint stayed on the Bad children,
They look sick,
Trapped in jail,
Winter grows throughout the yard
As all the flowers die
Apart from a single rose.
Wonderful mother,
Honest and kind
Makes me grow,
No bad in my mind,
Policemen sneer at the bad children,
They strut outside the filthy jail,
Poor children with charity clothes,
For they are brave for they don’t weep and bail.
HI Mia,
I like your opening three stanzas; particularly the first stanza which is very striking. Perhaps you could have continues the pattern of three lines throughout the poem?
Keep up the hard work.
The Prison break
There I was walking happily though an alley
When I heard loud screams of joy and some of fear
Then I could hear them coming closer and I Knew I was near
So I peeked around the corner to see what I could hear
I saw some prison men breaking out of jail
Trying to be brave I held in my yell
I peeked around again to see if I was wrong
But I wasn’t all along
They were rough they were strong
My heart was pumping my face went blue and I wasn’t shore what to do
They walked towards me their faces turning black
I ran into a yard I don’t Know who’s it was
I slammed the gate hard and Knew that I was safe for good
A heard a door creek open it was coming from behind it was my mother
She told to come in so I picked that tickled my nose
Hi Eden,
Thank you for sharing your poem with us. It’s good to see you experimenting with poetic techniques like rhyme. Perhaps next time you could focus less on action and more on creating a mood or feeling?
It was getting dark I bent down to do my lace when I got up I saw a bad women doing
some Bad stuff I was thinking about my life Seeing the jail in the alley way .
I said I want to be bad now..
By Victoria Mawete
Hi Victoria,
Thank you for sharing your poem with us. I’m left wondering why the person wants to be bad now…. Perhaps to develop your poetry you might try to use line breaks next time.
All the streets in the valley
Every street in the valley
It’s deep black in the night
At day the life is so friendly
And the sun is so bright.
In the backyard I stayed at night
I pricked my face with a rose
And I still remember how it grows
Then my mother came running
like an honest women with advice
to be brave.
Hi Ivan,
I like the opening of your poem with the repetition. Perhaps next time you might want to work on connecting your two stanzas together.
Week 3
A woman trapped By Tyler
A harmful woman trapped
In a cell for what;?
A mother trapped in
A prison never to see her daughter
Where are you daughter;?
Peeking to see if anyone
Was watching her;
I love you I hope
I could fill your stockings;
Can you come back mother
I miss you;
I know but I don’t think that might
Happen right now sorry
Looking out a black jail window
The mother dreamt of being
With her daughter and having fun;
Love you lots from your mother who
Will always love you
Hi Tyler,
This is a promising poem. I like the way you jump from description to first person and between characters. It’s good to experiment in this way.
Keep up the hard work.
Thank you Michael Walsh for the comment
thank you for your comment
well done tyler
d
(to) o
l
k
ie
d
o
m
aths
(you)
A world in different emotions
By Michael RR
A group of playful charity children
They must be happy with
Paint on their face
Walking throw a untended alley
I have been in my house all my life
I never got to play outside
Apparently I never needed
The black laced shoes I am so
Sad (they always had a better life)
Hi Michael,
I like the title of your poem…I like the unusual expressions you use too… they work really well.
This is promising work. I look forward to reading more of your poems soon.
Differences week 3 by Tyresse
The black women of the streets
Huddled, being afraid together
‘Life is hard for us Life is bad’ they weep
Their bond as friends
Is not as strong as the gushing wind
Their hearts frozen
Longing for a warm home…..
The white are in luxury
Blankets laced around them
‘Life is grand’ they laugh
The winter wind is kept out
They live life well
The black watch as lights go out
The loneliness is over whelming
They tuck in together
Night falls they sleep
Hi Tyresse,
Lovely poem. I like your use of contrast between the white and black women. Adding a third stanza to bring your poem together works really well too… I find your poem very moving.
Congratulations and keep on working hard on your poetry.
thank you mr walsh
I think this is my best so far
The gate was wide open,
The valley was dark,
Winter was near,
And the rose began to crumble with tears.
The time ticked until my time was near,
My life was packed full of lies,
My black coat leading behind me,
As I walked through the time.
Mother was calling me as I was distracted by a figure,
Weed growing until my face was plain with fear,
It was night time and all my stress calmed down.
Hi Aoife,
I really enjoyed your poem. You use personification to good effect in stanza one and your alliteration in the first line of stanza two reminds us of the ticking of a clock.
Keep on experimenting with your style.
Her Life
The woman sneers
Black children play in the front yard
She had a bad life
Jail was her mother
Jail was where she spent her time
Brave, wonderful and honest was the opposite of her
Children rose and hit the streets
In an untended alley way at night
She remembered how she would strut her thing
past the gate in her black lace stockings during
winter. She would wear them all the time getting
sick all the time. Charity people passed raising
money trying to get me to have a face paint. I acted rough and took their money that’s where I started my life of crime.
Hi Bokani,
I like your poem…it’s got a lot of energy. Sometimes it’s worth considering what would happen if I left out some words and made it shorter… Would it improve your poem or is it better as it is?
My mothers face was dirty,
the untended jail sneers as she walks down the alley,
the woman rotts and has a rough time especially with her daughter.
The wonderful charity children play in the alleyway,
life is good for them, but the mother sneers at the charity children.
The winter is coming soon,
as the mother sneers at the charity children,
who sneers back at her.
Hi Michael, Ryan and Rodney,
It’ s great to see you working together on a poem. Working together means you can discuss ideas and learn from one another. I really like your last two lines ….
Keep up the hard work.
A brave little girl
Strolled through the
rough streets of London
with paint on her face
Just like the
Charity children do,
Allmost every night.
They had such wonderful
Play .
Hi Jessica,
It’s good to see you experimenting with line breaks… I like the way you’ve separated “play” as the last word. Keep on trying out different ways of presenting your work and consider which way works best for you.
Bad people face a rough jail
Dark and untended
And all alone,
Like a lonley alley
In the night
Braveness will grow until it’s time,
To leave the streets
And begin a life,
Wonderful and honest
Away from the black
And into the light
Fear can peek from every corner
Dark, unhonest and also bad
But the light shines over everything
And can make the dark
Vanish
This life feels good
Not sick or untended,
but strong and kind
With a healthy mind!!!
Hi Umera,
It’s good to see you trying out a range of poetic devices like personification and similes… they work really well. I like the sudden change of focus in the final stanza too.
Keep up the hard work.
Wondering in the dark:
On the dark,windy street in Hornsey Lane
I felt like a brave kid seeking pain .
I peeked through the window
And all i saw were charity donations
I knew i wasted my own time
With all the braveness and the toughness
I should have stayed at home sleeping
And I walked through the untended alley all alone .
BY Ibrahim Warsame
Hi Ibrahim,
Thank you for sharing your poem with us.
You have a very interesting idea to change the setting to somewhere you’re familiar with. You clearly have some interesting ideas and you should look to develop these in your poetry.
Keep up the hard work.
The brave black woman grows sick
Playing in the winter
And wears black face paint,
Life stayed bad for all times
Mother sneers at this honest woman.
Rose weed left untended
Stalking the gates to jail.
The jail awaits the appearance
Of the brave black woman,
Streets are bare
The gates are closing,
The mother says
“You have to turn yourself in”
I ran through the alley
Time is running out.
The police finally catch me,
I will never be released!!
Dum dum duuummm!!!
Hi Arianna,
Your ending made me smile… you change a poem that has a tense tone to something more lighthearted all of a sudden.
Keep on working hard.
ODD ONE OUT!!!
Mother sick,
And children kick,
And roses grow,
And the dark will go.
Children bad,
And mother sad,
I fear,
And children near.
Children from charity,
Speaking with clarity,
Children playing,
Mother saying,
“Come back home.”
George in jail,
Mother pail,
Cell’s black,
And the criminals back!! …
Dum dum dum !!
Hi Priyanka,
It’s good to see you experimenting with rhyme especially if you like rhyming poetry. Just make sure you have a clear message to convey and you don’t let rhyme rather than a message dominate your poetry.
The journey
It’s a breezy day
As I walk past the jail
I see a strange man in the alley
Spraying a painting on a wall
And a woman is walking with her children
I wave and say hello politely.
As I stroll past the school gates
I face the harsh winter breeze across my face
I see a weed moving
With the wind flowing slow and wavy
As I see a charity sale
I decide to buy a pair of gloves.
Hi Tirell,
That’s an interesting ending you gave your poem. I like your description of the wavy wind too…
Keep up the hard work.
The brave woman was sick,
She is unable to play,
Her lace would trip her up,
She still struts down the street,
Sickness is jail.
Really like your last line Emmanuel. A shorter line helps to make it sound like you’re summing up the poem.
Keep up the hard work.
Mothers O mother.
Be wear.
Their crazy and funny.
Be wear.
Their wonderful and honest.
Be wear.
Their lazy and rough.
Be wear.
Their perfect.
Be wear.
Their the light of my life.
Be wear.
Hi Ryan,
I like the structure of your poem with the refrain beware repeated time and again. You show many different sides to being a mother.
Keep up the hard work.
I want to peek,
At the wonderful street,
Everyone is having wonderful fun,
While i have none,
I see a honest woman,
Looking at me like i’m late.
Darkness grows black,
I see the untened jail,
Like i have failed,
My mum says it’s rough,
But i think i’m tough.
It turns to silence,
Before violence begins in the alley,
I turn green,
When i see a woman being mean,
The clock struck,
When i got my luck.
Hi Asma,
You use rhyme well here… for example your last two rhyming lines work well with “struck” and “luck”…perhaps some time planning your work beforehand might make your poetry even better?
The frontyard is boring
Everyone plays at the backyard
Children are having wonderful fun
While I’m having none
My mother says if you play there
You will go to jail sooner or later
But it’s unfair for me
The crowded shops are around me
It’s nearly night
It’s winter so it is cold
I must go home
Idon’t want to sleep
I want to play
HI Zelal,
I like the way you’ve provided a similar message to Brooks’ poem but you’ve created it in your own style. This could be another poem by the same speaker.
Keep up the hard work.
The mother struts down with her children
The rough gate opened as they walked down
On a cold winter night.
The children looked at the weeds
They left the untended gates
Remembering loved ones.
The children started to run
While the mother was walking slowly
There was a charity shop on the other side
Then the lady stopped and there she was waiting for life.
HI Michael and Shakana,
A very interesting ending… “waiting for life” has many different meanings.
Thank you for providing such an intriguing poem for us.
Thank you Micheal Walsh for that lovely reply we hope that you have enjoyed reading our poem.
Sick on the streets
I saw a dog on a lead
I remember when I went to jail
When I remember it I get pale
Then I knew what I wear
Then I ate a pear
But my lovely memories
Has gone rough
I don’t know what to spare
So I slept tight
And I said to myself goodnight
Hi Jherwin,
I can see you like to use rhyme in your poetry. Keep on trying this out but try to have a message you want to convey through your poetry too.
The Red Rose
As the honest rose grows as time passes,
Winter night falls,
The mother and her children
Watch the rose
As it grows into something beautiful.
What a wonderful sight.
Night time is gone
Winter disappears
The rose petas reappear
As bright as red paint
Hi Keya,
What a fantastic last stanza… it’s so bright and vivid. It is very uplifting too … the simile in the last line is a very powerful way to end.
Promising work …please continue to share your poetry with us.
The bad children,
Peek down the dark, alley
on the cold, winter night.
They see honest children playing,
Living there life staying young
and they grow for evermore.
Hi James,
Thank you for sharing your poem with us.
I like the way you’ve used contrast within your poem. Did you consider structuring this into two stanzas?
The naughty children,
Peak down the dark alley,
Haunted spirits,
Are thought to be there,
The untended black gate,
Leads to the castle,
On a sullen and cold winter night.
They gaze into darkness,
And try to remember,
The warm cosy nights,
They spent in their beds,
But now they are orphans,
They can only think of,
Uncomfortable life.
Hi Henry,
Thank you for sharing your poem with us.
I think the opening stanza is atmospheric with the emphasis on cold and darkness. Your second stanza links well with your first and provides a background to the children…
Promising work. Keep on sharing your poetry with us.
Indoors, staying in jail peeking out of the gate
I am sick, I miss my life
Children play and paint
They are brave and untended
Outdoors in winter,
I am now free I Live in charity
I grow in honesty,
no sneers, bad or rough ways
Hi Oscar,
Some interesting lines here… “I grow in honesty,”. I can see you’re starting to consider how to use punctuation …continue to do so…
Stockings shut,
Hangingin in the room
A child comes along
Curious to open them soon.
Woman at night
Honest to tell you
If you will have a fright,
Green and mean like the Queen.
Brave and strong,
Strolling through the yard
I snear at the beast
Having a feast,
But then my end is not far.
Hi Adem,
It’s good to see you experimenting with rhyme. If you enjoy this type of poetry continue to develop your style but perhaps consider what it is you want to say and try to see if rhyme can help you make your point.
Keep up the hard work.
Children growing but I can’t see
The brave young ones painting … playing,
I stare out of my home and wish I had properly grown.
But now I am sick my lace is forever undone and when I get out
I will only strut and remember a childhood of perpetual night
Now I am older I live a life incomplete.
Hi Hugo,
This is an imaginative response. I like the way you’ve taken parts of Brooks’ poem but created your own unique poem. Some memorable phrases here like “a childhood of perpetual night”.
We look forward to reading more of your poetry soon.
My mother is in jail
What do i do now I am homeless no money so time I have to go my friend house they do not help me and I have to take think so time they give me food it is not that nice it is night got to thing where to sleep it is rain now went back were my mum let me here I pray to God and said why it is my mum can it be someone they my mum
Good night
Thank for
Hi Keisha,
Thank you for sharing your poem with us.
I like the way you’re work is focused on a number of different thoughts…it reflects the fear your speaker is feeling.
Perhaps you could start to use line breaks to structure your work?
My slavery days
There’s no shame in being black
They tied my hands in lace
Dragged me to a jail
Threw me out in the winter unattended
Locked me away from the streets
Segregation
My sick mother
We peek from behind corners of alleys
Time to time, scraps of food
Our stockings ripped
We fight, pretend to be brave
One day I became an orphan.
Then life was not the same.
No need to look at gates
Paint faces, we’re the same
Women, children, adopted parents, me.
I was told to give up, I refused
There is no shame in being black just ‘cause you’re a slave.
Hi Maya,
This is a moving poem. I link your first stanza and the way you are experimenting with line length… the isolation of the word “segregation” works really well as it reflects the act of being segregated.
I think Brooks would have liked your poem too…Keep up the hard work.
Is Jail a lonely place?
I was in the dark lonely jail sitting near little bits of sick.
My mother crying her eyes out.
It was winter and I was freezing cold.
I was in my worn out stockings.
I finally got out of jail my mother said “I have grown”.
I entered a wonderful house with an honest family and flowers around.
Hi Destinti,
Thank you for sharing your poem with us.
Your opening question works well. I don’t feel pressure to bring your poem to a neat end. I felt your ending was a little sudden but perhaps you could have left it more open ended?
As winter falls down
I find a scary honest woman
Peeking through a window
in an untended alley
She looks at me face to face
Like she has seen me before
My mother stays in the house
Still like a statue
And haunts me
Then disappears
Leaving me alone
Near the fraeky gates.
A hand grows
Out of the concrete ground
Covered in blood
I watch it rise from my bedroom
And I wonder why it comes at night.
I stand up being brave
And I go to the hand
And the woman shows up
She says nothing
And walks away
Heading towards the haunted cemetary.
Hi Tania,
I really enjoyed your poem. I like the way you’ve changed the genre to a ghost poem. It works really well. It seems like you’ve planned it carefully ….
Promising work. Please continue to work on your poetry.
Winter children are so kind
They paint, they play, they be so kind,
Wonderful people like them
Never sick or rough.
Brave honest and always so kind
Winter children are so kind.
Hi Sophie,
Thank you for sharing your poem with us.
I like the way you’ve repeated your first line at the end of your poem. It brings a sense of completion and reinforces your point.
Keep up the hard work.
Trapped indoors feels like jail
Peeking around to escape
Wanting to play with children on streets and alleys
Want to help charity
To help people out of their rough days.
Dreading for cold winter days
Dreading it for we will be sick
Outdoors is freedom
Wearing stockings
Peeking around to look for people with black stockings
Strutting around in alleys
Looking for paint
Outdoors is freedom , freedom is life
Hi Jonah,
You use repetition effectively throughout your poem. Have you tried reading your poem out loud? I think your poem would capture our interest because you’ve used repetition ….
Try reading your poem out loud to someone else and see how it sounds.
Keep up the hard work.
Jail Is A Horrible Place
I was arrested for burglary
The police took me away
My family was sad and then
Immediately after that just then, in a flash
I was finally out hooray
But I have horrible memories
Of slime growing on stone walls
And cold water slopping against my feet,
Toilets out in the open and
Horrible food being served
But now I am in a nice cottage
And nothing bothers me
And nice food and private toilets
Jail is horrible I must say.
Hi Aaron,
You paint a somber image of jail with your descriptions…. I think to develop your poetry further you should spend more time ensuring you always select the best word to express your point. For example is there a better word than “nice” to describe the cottage?
Keep up the hard work.
Children grow,
Whilst I stay indoors for all my life,
I want to be brave and adventurous,
But instead I’m shuttered inside,
3 years later,
I’m all bright and free,
Smelling the fresh, fresh air,
What a beautiful sight.
Hi Ceana,
Thank you for sharing your poem. Your first three lines reminds me of Brooks’ speaker and her longing for freedom. I’m left wondering what changed in your speaker’s life?
Keep up the hard work.
A Night in stars
I was freed from jail today,
Children singing and dancing,
I went to the local charity today,
And gave them a some goods to buy a yard,
I lying in my rough yard,
People sneering all around,
But I just knew to look at the stars
Now I saw the biggest star.
Hi Leo,
What a wonderful ending… I like the way we have to wait until the end of the poem to make sense of the title.
Thank you for sharing this with us.
As I paint the holes in my life
I see a wonderful site of
charity children running by
Then I see Wonderful woman with a honest face
When i hear chanting from a far
I start seeing stars
A tear drop as I remember those days.
Hi Plamedi,
Like Leo’s poem above I found your ending moving … Your poem reminds me of both Brooks’ but also McKays with the sense of longing at the end.
Keep up the hard work.
thank you for your reply and i will kept up work because you will see my work in book in 10 years
The wonderful,honest woman,
Peeks out from the black,
Quickly runs over to the bad,untended jail,
Runs to the front of the window,
And sneers at the old bad man snoring,
As the winter grows,
The brave and wonderful woman,
Gets colder and colder,
She quickly runs in and rescue’s him,
In the dark,black night,
They both run out without being caught,
But a naughty child spills paint on there head
Hi Ryan,
Thank you for sharing your poem with us. I like the balance of your lines… you often break them into two parts. I wonder if you could have structured this into two stanzas? What do you think?
Keep up the hard work.
A night looking at lasers
In a hot city,
I sneer across the railings
Where the sea shines
Marina Bay is wonderful
But their hotel is better,
You do have to be brave
To stand the top floor,
The top floor is held by 3 pillars,
It’s lights open all the time,
The swimming pool is on the top,
Just like stockings near a fireplace,
A city you would say “I want to stay here!”
Near the tip of India,
The foreign bit,
Bad people want money,
So they say “Care for the charity!”
Do you know what I’m talking about?,
It’s a beautiful place,
For tourists and visitors
To admire the place.
Singapore
Hi Duncan,
Thank you for sharing your poem with us.
I like your simile in the second stanza. Perhaps when describing a place next time you could consider using the 5 senses?
Keep up the hard work.
As the streets get fuller and fuller with snow,
The bad black 5yr old girl awates.
She goes outsidfe to her back yard untended,
And stared into space………..
My mother came out and made sure i was ok,
I pretended I couldn’t see her so I just looked away,
She asked if I had picked some roses,
I said “No, honest, I didn’t!” and glared at her in dispare.
She anwered back and tripped over a sack, then sneered really loud.
I flew away for a year and a day,
To the lands where the pong-trees grow.
I looked back to my life ahead,
And a tear ran down my cheek.
And hand in hand a picture stands,
With me and my entire family.
I looked out of the window with clouds everywhere,
And a smile shined on my face,
The day when i remebered when i was born,
Right at the beginning bit of dawn………..
Hi Sarah,
Thank you for sharing your poem with us.
I thought your poem seemed inspired by Brooks and McKay? I like your description of the “pong trees” and your poem attains a range of tones.
Keep up the hard work.
vry good lesson
Escaping from the house
Tiptoeing down the alley
I say”hi”
And the charitey chilldren
Ignored me.
I went close to them
And a girl says hi
But some one says
To the girl come there
now!!!!! she screamd.
should i go over
And intoduce my self?
Or go home
Before mum awakes?
I decided to go home
And never spoke
About the charity children
agin.
Hi Shauna,
Thank you for sharing your poem with us.
I like the way you let us share the thoughts of your speaker… I found your ending a little sudden… would you have like to have developed it further if you had more time?
Keep up the hard work.
Children put paint pots on their heads even though when they did it 50 years ago they are now in jail for stealing.
Hi Ronan,
Thank you for sharing your poem with us. I found the opening amusing but was left shocked by the ending.
Perhaps you could develop this further or find a different subject matter that you would prefer to write about?
Sick children
Helpful women
Worried mother
Good medicine
Comfortable bed
Hi Ethan,
I like the way you’ve structured your poem around two word lines… also there is a progression during the lines.
Keep up the hard work.
Children strut with their new clothes,
But as they grow they wear out,
They start to get rough and untended.
Hi Isaac,
Thank you for sharing your poem with us. While you could read your poem being about the clothes, it can also be read as discussing the children being “rough and untended”. To be able to convey double meanings in your poetry means you can provide a number of different messages.
Keep up the hard work.
I play outside with my friends in the night
sometimes they give me a bit of a fright,
sometimes i scream,
sometimes i shout,
sometimes i do a runout.
Then i go home to do some chores alone,
I peek through the window to see whats going on,
All i see is children.
Then i go back outside and play sone other games,
then we play a game called peek a boo,
It is so so fun they all choose it and i say thank you.
Hi Tay,
Thank you for sharing your poem which shows how many different experiences a child can have. I think your opening stanza is the strongest. What could you do to the second and third stanza to improve them?
Time is quarter to nine,
someone has broken out from jail.
He went home and saw an alley full of roses.
Then he went back to jail,
because he shouldn’t have
done it in the first place.
Hi Hasnat,
I like your first line and the way you’ve changed the normal word order. Poets often do this to place emphasis on certain words. However I found your last 3 lines sudden. Do you agree? Did you run out of time?
Keep up the hard work.
A boy with paint on his face .
Standing strong and brave.
He wanted to be like
All the charity children
And play.
But if he did
He will end up in jail
Like the others.
Even though his mother warned
Him, he still wanted to go
And be a bad boy.
Hi James,
It’s interesting that you’ve made your poem about a boy when Brooks’ focused on a girl but both children have a similar desire to break the rules.
Keep up the hard work.
Bright light red and blue.
I see my mother with black eye.
With ripped stockings telling me
to be brave.
I fell the rough skin on her fingers.
Whilst she holds delacit .
My mother saythat its time
To say good bye as i lay in my
hopital bed.
My pluse slowsdown.
I faintly hear my mother
screams.
And the hopital gose deeep.
Hi Jaiden,
Thank you for your poem.
A fantastic opening line. I also like the “rough skin”… I’m pleases to see your experimenting with line breaks too and length of lines.
I think if you re-read your work and tried to make it even better you would produce some stunning poetry.
Keep up the hard work.
Alley full of roses,
Children’s playing at night,
Next to the yard,
Running away from the police,
Going back to his home.
HI Rahad,
You achieve a contrast between the alley of roses and the individual fleeing from the police. I’m left wondering who is running away?
The streets are quiet like babies
Sleeping
And i see a
Rough jail
Full with black.
I see charity children
And i tell my mum
Can i play with them
So i ran to them
And i felt like the wind
Pushing me.
I play with my brother
In the dark
So i cant find him
Sometimes when i play with
Him again
He gives me a fright.
Im in the back yard
Listening to music
Then i talk to myself
I will be honest forever.
HI Stephany,
What a super start to your poem. Your simile is effective and immediately sets the scene.
Perhaps write a little less next time but try to ensure you plan beforehand and carefully consider each word you use.
Keep up the hard work.
bad decision to be honest
when a weed like them grows
learns to strut before they can walk
winter before summer bad before good
[ while you are left untended]
they sneer at you
as you peek through the jail of punishment
Hi Mason,
I like your poem… you turn everything upside down and I like the way you’ve played with the order of your words…It’s good to see you using brackets (Like Cummings) and transferring your knowledge across poems.
Keep up the hard work.
My mother told me
The streets are full of bad peaple
Being sick on the floor
We live in the countryside
I get to play in the yard.
A women was speaking to my mother
She sneers at me
And says this is rough and
Not fit a child life.
She told me to play.
In the alley then mother.
Told me to change my trainers then.
Those ones can go to charity.
I grow with anger and shout OK!
And ran away untended until I.
Met a gate, I am alone and cold
Hi Morgan,
The ending of your poem works well creating a sad image … Perhaps you could develop your descriptions a bit more?
Thank you for sharing your poem with us.
My symbol is a tiger when I feel brave then I feel like a good friend to every one and there my friends to.
Week 3 – Gwendolyn Brooks
Woman’s life
By Raymond Williams
The woman was sick
She came from a rough background
Strutting her stockings like it is her job making it her life what she does for herself. She sees herself
Sitting in a winter front yard
Peeking in from a window.
Sneers at the idea of a jail
Comes in late at night
Every night Wearing black lace everyday thinking that those people everyone calls police are coming hoping that they aren’t coming for her each time and then sees the little
Children wearing winter clothes
Unattended in an abandoned gate alley seeing another neighbour get arrested and go jail to spend the rest of their life in a useless confined cell their new home for life.
Raymond Williams 6O
the streets snared at the mother
for keeping her child in the yard
winter grows undauntedly the charity children strut
weed surrounds the rose bringing it to jail
peek through the gates to see the streets
the gates shall go to jail
face paint shall go on the weeds
to bring them to the end
honest is the bad one
freedom is snared at by the gates.