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Emotionsby year 7 and 8 boys
This collection of poems is dedicated to Mrs Koheji for always encouraging us to be in touch with our emotions.
It is also dedicated to all of our form teachers - past and present - for helping us to deal with our day-to-day emotions.
7P and 8C boys
It is also dedicated to all of our form teachers - past and present - for helping us to deal with our day-to-day emotions.
7P and 8C boys
Anxiety
By Elliot B
It’s a purple scar
Carrying all of your thoughts and doubts
With you.
It is 8 o’clock in the morning
On your first day at school.
Like winter frost, it chills your body
To the very bone.
It’s a dull percussion triangle
reverberating in your head
blurring all your happy thoughts.
It’s like an old, leather sofa: forever rotting
Just asking to be thrown away.
Like a millipede, every segment of it
Describing your worries.
It’s a putrid smell, tearing through
The walls of a derelict house.
It makes your hands shake,
you feel as if your whole world
is crumbling.
It is a taste that will never be forgotten.
By Elliot B
It’s a purple scar
Carrying all of your thoughts and doubts
With you.
It is 8 o’clock in the morning
On your first day at school.
Like winter frost, it chills your body
To the very bone.
It’s a dull percussion triangle
reverberating in your head
blurring all your happy thoughts.
It’s like an old, leather sofa: forever rotting
Just asking to be thrown away.
Like a millipede, every segment of it
Describing your worries.
It’s a putrid smell, tearing through
The walls of a derelict house.
It makes your hands shake,
you feel as if your whole world
is crumbling.
It is a taste that will never be forgotten.
Fear
By Jonathan C
Fear is jet black,
It’s the void where it seems nothing,
but everything is there,
everything, all and everything.
Fear is the forest,
a green canopy with
the dark base unknown,
Unknown, completely unknown.
Fear is midnight,
When the clocks strike twelve
and you can see nothing,
nothing, nothing at all.
Fear is October, the day of the dead
The day, the day of the dead.
Fear is the cold, the freezing;
so burning and burning so freezing
Burning, burning so red but freezing.
Fear devours the soul,
but the soul welcomes it with cold open arms.
Cold, so cold
By Jonathan C
Fear is jet black,
It’s the void where it seems nothing,
but everything is there,
everything, all and everything.
Fear is the forest,
a green canopy with
the dark base unknown,
Unknown, completely unknown.
Fear is midnight,
When the clocks strike twelve
and you can see nothing,
nothing, nothing at all.
Fear is October, the day of the dead
The day, the day of the dead.
Fear is the cold, the freezing;
so burning and burning so freezing
Burning, burning so red but freezing.
Fear devours the soul,
but the soul welcomes it with cold open arms.
Cold, so cold
DISAPPOINTMENT
By William H
It’s sickly yellow like cold, lumpy custard.
It’s the morning alarm,
ordering me out of bed.
Like damp rain at a summer picnic,
it spoils everything.
Like a giant sloth casting a dark shadow
on the forest floor,
this feeling is casting its shadow over me.
It’s a broken music box,
with its dancing ballerina
No longer able to twirl.
By William H
It’s sickly yellow like cold, lumpy custard.
It’s the morning alarm,
ordering me out of bed.
Like damp rain at a summer picnic,
it spoils everything.
Like a giant sloth casting a dark shadow
on the forest floor,
this feeling is casting its shadow over me.
It’s a broken music box,
with its dancing ballerina
No longer able to twirl.
Jealousy
By Misha P
It’s a vulgar green colour, eating up your spine.
An ear-piercing scrawny sound,
Ruining your life, bit by bit.
Unpredictable mornings in cold, bleak February,
The dismay of your Valentine date.
It’s an odd sheep getting glared at for its misery and
Preposterous behaviour.
It takes every part of your body
and turns you down a horrible route,
seeking revenge every day
and wants you to fulfil its desire.
It changes your feeling
To envy
And makes you seek revenge.
It starts a new world for you.
By Misha P
It’s a vulgar green colour, eating up your spine.
An ear-piercing scrawny sound,
Ruining your life, bit by bit.
Unpredictable mornings in cold, bleak February,
The dismay of your Valentine date.
It’s an odd sheep getting glared at for its misery and
Preposterous behaviour.
It takes every part of your body
and turns you down a horrible route,
seeking revenge every day
and wants you to fulfil its desire.
It changes your feeling
To envy
And makes you seek revenge.
It starts a new world for you.
