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The theme was Home so some of

our poems about home follow ...

 

 

Home

 

Home is red like a rose or rage

It taste like my mums

homemade carbonerra

It smells like laundry powder

It looks like proper dorset

It sounds silent……

It feels like freedom!

 

Emily

 

    

The Home                             

 

The Home is grey

like a British morning  

Taste like water with no taste

And smells like fire on a cold night

The home looks like

a peaceful lost garden

The unknown after

every word spoken

It’s not what I know

It’s what I don’t know.

 

Jamie

     
 

Meg

 

I am Meg the dog

I wonder if Im going for a walk today

I hear other dogs barking

I see in black and white

I am fast at running

 

I pretend to play dead

I feel like playing

I touch with my paw

I worry when I get told off

I cry when my tail gets stepped on

I am Meg the dog

 

I understand my commands

I say woof woof in doggy talk

I dream that ill get something good

for breakfast

I try to be good

I hope I get a walk today

I am Meg the dog

 

Jake

   

In my Eyes

 

In my eyes I can see that me

and you can never be

I don’t think there could be no other

I just wish we could be together

I have no expectations

When I’m with you

there’s no limitations because

now I have no fright

when I think of you there’s

peace at night

with you it’s not just looks but

your personality that counts

when I hear your voice it’s like

I’m in heaven

of which you’re the sun

your eyes being the sea and

your cheeks are the sunset

but I know you can do much better

Just remember I love you forever.

 

Tony

     
 

A Poem

 

In the home I dream about

The grass surrounding the perimeter is shortly cropped

And glows a healthy gree, rich in musty red and auburn leaves

That once held on strong to the magnificent Oak tree

That overlooks a large proportion of the front garden,

Standing strong and still like a soldier.

 

The bricks that build the home are a chalky grey,

Chipped and worn due to the many seasons

They have surpassed and endured.

The air is cold damp and fresh,

Riddling your lungs with every breath.

 

There is a deep earthy smell of woodland climbing its way up

And seeping out of the chimney,

Filling the air with warmth and happiness.

 

The door is jet black with a golden doorknocker,

Projecting a sense of welcoming and happiness

Reaching a sense of welcoming and happiness

Reaching tall above any man or woman.

 

Sullivan