KS3 POETRY

KEY STAGE 3 POETRY

EXCERPT FROM ‘I COME FROM’

I come from a background of playing with my Cousins, it sticks. I come from haggis and turnips, I come from playing with my brother at kicks (football)

I come from gymnastics, I come from a family that is fantastic, Their influence was highly drastic..

I come from small town, It was definitely run down. I come from Scotland.

I come from a flag with a moon, I come from eating cereal with spoons, I come from people I’ll be seeing soon.

I come from being daring, I come from a background of people constantly staring, I come from a non- diverse town.

I come from a family that knows how to turn a frown upside down. I come from a house that was important to me, It isn’t really that clear to see.

I come from a family, I come from living happily, Seeing a smile everyday

© Seher Safdar Key Stage 3 Poetry

EXCERPT FROM ‘QUESTIONS FOR HUMANITY’

I wonder what would happen if we all expanded our ‘safe’ little bubbles; bent a little more, stiffened a little less, so that others could gladly join in what if, instead of me seeing you, and you seeing me as other, strange or scary, we took the plunge, beckoned each other, into our homes, cultures, lives: instead of saying, “stay away”, we all said, “welcome”

I wonder what would happen if my attire wouldn’t determine my character for some people, and there’d be more to life than appearances; what if we lived in a world, where, on a crowded London bus, the person sat behind my mum hadn’t tried to set her hijab on fire what if we hadn’t been spat on, shouted at in an affluent London suburb, in broad daylight, told to: “Go back to your own country!” by a benign-looking man who could easily have passed for Father Christmas

I wonder what would happen if everyone had a seat at humanity’s table, not just a privileged few, and that all were included in the feasting and merriment, and the indigent needn’t settle for scraps; that beggars didn’t have to shame themselves because people would always give

I wonder what would happen if the military was armed with fountain pens so that they could cross out war; that our minds were each, drops, in an ocean so that thoughts would mingle and we’d never be narrow-minded

© Fatema Zahra Mithwani Key Stage 3 Poetry

THE GUILT OF APARTHEID

Images flicker across the tv Illuminate mother’s solemn face Encompassing the room In its astringent blanket. My focus is on the crisps; There are dappled flakes in the bag Determined to block out the tumult Fruitlessly playing with the plastic. Head now stiffly raised My futile occupation deceased White noise evaporated As I adjust to what’s on-screen. Uniformed and formal; marching Others march too, but contrastingly – Unremittingly hiking onwards Every step radiating despair. Loss envelopes these people Heavily permeating the atmosphere In which they flee Away from their persecutors. Eyes, bearing acrimony, disgust Admonishingly burn into my skull Choking me in guilt Screaming what their mouths are forbidden. Eyes, possessing plentiful power Power to strangle me with remorse Yet insufficient to bruise Mirror the emotions of my heart. But I hold no authority Choosing the easy escape of blame, I crumple the packet in my fist Still, it... bothers me.

© Zaleeka Ismail Master Key Stage 3 Poetry

EXCERPTS FROM ‘THE LIFE OF ASYLUM SEEKERS AND REFUGEES’

They come to this country in great need of peace, But we detain them in prisons and throw away the key, They wait in hope that the government will grant their release, They’ve been punished unjustly yet nobody sees, Come wondering through each night with no family, This is the life of asylum seekers and refugees.

Bleeding wounds and deep cuts on both his knees, So tired from travelling he can barely breathe, We send him to camp and then let him be, Cant he stay here with us? It’s been tough enough, Yet they’re as silent as night, their hands still in cuffs, And we’re not even aware that this injustice exists, This is the life of asylum seekers and refugees.

© Mariam Khan Key Stage 3 Poetry

THE UNDERTONES

Sad blues, Vibrant greens, Misty oranges, Pale purples, Golden yellows and Rustic reds.

I’d like to think I’m like a canvas of colour, But In reality, I’m the undertones. The shades of black and midnight blues, Faded greys and murky hues, They make up the background beneath. The loud colours go on top, But the background remains at the bottom, Sinking into an abyss of darkness.

© Maheen Zafar Key Stage 3 Poetry