Making Connections #NationalWritingDay

 

On National Writing Day in June, students were encouraged to write poems about making connections - with the people around them, with people they don't know but observe from afar or with people they have never met.

The Bus Driver

I saw you again this morning,

you greeted me as happily as you always do,

you always have.

You always wear black, every single day.

I saw you sat in the driver’s seat,

with your mask on, as you always do.

I heard you greeting everyone else, recognising your happy voice,

I wonder if there’s a smile underneath your mask?

I heard you wishing everybody a great day, just as you’d done for me,

just as you always do.

I heard your kindly thanks, your joyful phrases,

I wonder, are you always this cheerful and happy?

 

The girl in the garden

I saw you one day

In your garden

Playing with your dog

Barely keeping him at bay

Excited he was

Always jumping up

After all

He was a pup

Its funny how you stuck your tongue out

When concentrating on him

Making sure he didn’t win

I could tell you loved him

I heard you tell him so

Bone after bone

You never said no

You were always happy

Until that day

When a dog became a headstone

And so did you in a way

The lady in the pink car

I always see you in your small pink car,

Driving on the way to work.

I always see you with your ponytail

Pulled tight at the back of your head.

I wonder why you chose a pink car,

So contrasting in a crowd.

I wonder what your job is,

Where you could be going every day.

You sometimes seemed to be stressed,

And I wonder what about.

You seem to be nice and friendly,

But who can really tell for sure?

You seem to be confident, an extrovert,

But how would I know?

You’re just the lady in the pink car.

 

The old bus driver 

I show you my ticket like always

Today you scan it

Yesterday you forgot

 

You probably know me by now 

Can recognise my face

Can recognise my good mornings 

That - and my thanks

 

Did you really notice me 

Or was I just another face?

 I guess I'll never know.

By Ethan B

 

Every Morning

I see you every morning

On my way to school

Baggy bright blue jeans

And yourself, really tall

Always that white shirt and jacket

No one will ever know why

Long hair at your waist

Flowing freely in the sky

And though you never make any haste

As you go to work

We always know you’re running late

From that cheeky little smirk

I wonder why you wear

The same clothes every day

Some may think you dirty

But me, well, my thoughts don’t work that way

I see you every morning

On my way to school

Baggy, bright blue jeans

And yourself, really tall

By Georgina P and Izzy P

Making Connections

I wonder why you stay there,

Surely you are bored of always working there,

It’s surprising how you’re always working,

You never look bored.

I think, do you enjoy this job,

Or is it the only thing you have?

Do you not want to experience other life paths,

Or are you happy,

Are you happy and content?

By Elise N

Grief

Too much pain

Too much sorrow

It chases you ‘till you can run no more.

I wish I could’ve helped

Yet we all know,

The outcome is inevitable.

And still to this day I am sorry

For both you and I

Sometimes it knocks

Or perhaps barges in.

“It’s not fair!”

You may cry.

You’re right, but it doesn’t care.

You cannot escape it.

It’s Death! It’s Death!

An’ always, always,

                                        He’ll always be there!

By Joseph T

That’s What Friends Do

I wonder why you make these stupid jokes

so bad sometimes that they’re funny

It’s funny how we make jokes about each other -

that’s what friends do.

 

You seem to be the one

who can make me cry and laugh at the same time,

or the one to talk to if I’ve got a problem -

that’s what friends do.

 

I could tell you that you’re a muppet

and you wouldn’t care

because you take things as a joke -

that’s what friends do.

 

If I ever feel bored

I could ask you if you want to meet up

or even play online together -

that’s what friends do.

By Josh G

Always There?

You would always be there,

Standing by your door.

Always the same clothes,

But your conversation was always different, something new.

You would engage any passer-by,

With a friendly hello and a smile.

A smile. Your smile, always beaming bright,

Even though I had seen so many doctors in your home.

Now I am not in primary school,

I don’t use the same route.

Yet I wonder still, are you still there?

Outside your door, or are you even there at all?

By Rachel B 

Nothing’s changed.

A smell that’s so familiar,

Freshly baked cake on the table,

Family pictures on the wall,

Fake tulips in a bright green vase,

Still here to greet me after 6 long months,

Yet still nothing’s changed

I always see you past my window,

I sometimes wonder where you go,

I always gaze at your blue and green hair,

Sometimes I wish I looked like you,

Walking past my window.

You always wear the same shoes:

Platform docs with rainbow laces,

An off white bag filled with books,

And baggy jeans that are cuffed at the ends.

One day you weren’t there,

I’ve never seen you since.