We asked our tutor and award-winning poet Gail Ingram to select 15 of her favourite poems from recent Write On workshops and submissions. Here they are for National Poetry Day, 2023.
“And it was at that age ... Poetry arrived in search of me.”
Pablo Neruda
An editor’s selection: How these poems arrived in search of me.
So how did I come to choose these 15 poems from an outstanding field of poetry by young people? If you are thinking ‘It’s just what she likes’, then you’d be partially right. Editors do choose poems based on their tastes and interests. But first, we take into account some other factors. Like the poet’s insight into their subject, their original use of language, and how well they craft it.
Take “Little Bug” by Jamie Irwin. This poem discovers something through minute observations of a bug and by putting those observations into language that moves the reader. It shifts from how the bug looks – like ‘a tiny piece of moss’ – to how it blends in, to its many small legs, to how it derives energy, to that final discovery that it is ‘unnoticed’. In other words, it doesn’t care that it is being observed and it goes about living anyway. What a small but profound observation of not only a bug’s behaviour but of our own human behaviour – how much we do or don’t notice, about little wonderful things going on around us all the time. It’s the kind of discovery or insight a poem can bring, not only to its writers but to its readers too.
Or take the careful crafting of Jessica Hurrell’s poem “Chase me with your lying tongue”. What a title – how can you chase someone with a tongue? This immediately catches our attention with its strangeness. But the poet knows it works metaphorically; the power and anger behind this turn of phrase. And how beautifully this feeling is developed with the building repetition of ‘Chase me’ until the poem turns in the last stanza and the speaker becomes the chaser. The arrangement of the lines and stanzas on the page works to also enhance the powerful feelings evoked by the poem.
All of the writers selected here use language to good effect. For example, have you ever come across acorns like skydivers? An army of chipmunks? Cucumber to kill? Or a boat called Poetry? These ideas are all striking and humorous and affecting, and come from the pens of writers as young as nine.
So, I invite you onto this boat. The wind is strong. The crow’s in the nest. The conditions are right for the poems to find you too.
Gail Ingram is an award-winning writer from Ōtautahi Aotearoa, a teacher at Write On and an editor of poetry and short fiction. Her second collection of poetry Some Bird is forthcoming in September 2023 from Sudden Valley Press. Her first collection Contents Under Pressure (Pūkeko Publications 2019) was described by Paula Green as "a gift of a book". Her work has appeared in Landfall, Turbine/Kapohau, The Spinoff, The Poetry Shelf, Poetry New Zealand, Cordite Poetry Review, Blue Nib, Barren Magazine and others. More at https://www.theseventhletter.nz/
THE POEMS that arrived
Little bug
Little bug,
sitting on a small leaf,
small in size,
looking like a tiny spot of moss.
Sitting upon a leaf
of spots, little bug
blends in with the spots of
the leaf.
Little bug’s legs are small in size,
yet there are lots of them.
You sit, little bug, on the small
withering leaf.
You eat from the small leaf
gaining all the energy you can.
You are sitting unnoticed.
Jamie Irwin, Year 8
She draws…
the sunlight cascades
like falling water
into the room
onto the glowing girl
she sits and watches
the world go by
she creates new dimensions
of people passing
like the serious man
wearing a bowler hat
she draws him
dancing like a ballerina
like the smiling lady
swishing her skirts
she draws her
sitting alone with the grey clouds
she wonders
who are these people?
what do they dream?
what do they hope for?
the sunlight pools around the window
and retreats to its cave
she sits alone in the dark
but across the street
sits the young man
who sketches
by the light of his lamp
the light flickers
he is distracted
he wonders
who is she?
what does she dream?
what does she hope for?
he draws her
Madi Sillifant, Year 8
This poem first appeared in Write On Issue 60 Moments and Milestones
The Sleepover
Late evening, tired after a full day
laughing under a yawning sun, we retreated
to the back of the garden.
Restless under slippery too-hot blanketing
you tried to doze. Impossible.
your friends chatted about trivial things.
Then argued until it was too late to sleep
One friend went inside.
Left alone, fears joined the party.
We all slunk indoors.
That night was alive in ways others were not.
Rosa Sheard, Year 7
This poem first appeared in Write On Issue 60 Moments and Milestones
Flying acorns
Today I saw some acorns fall from a tree
It reminded me of a skydiver
leaping out of their plane
It was their first time
so they weren't very graceful
They flipped and twirled through the air
getting ready for landing
Colette Marsh, Year 6
Chase me with your lying tongue
Chase me with your lying tongue Let steam roll through your teeth Let me see your mouth burning lies
Chase me through golden castles Shrouded with rosy mist Let your mouth become thick With the ash of your weakness
Chase me through smoke Chase me through fields full of glowing roses Chase me through bronze eruptions Chase me through the inky nightmares of my childhood
My irises, once blue, will glow red When I catch you in that dandelion field You will sob into your hands You will wish you were never a spy And that I was never your friend
Jessica Hurrell, Year 9
cold just like ice
cold just like ice
ice just like cream
cream dribble and drips
drips jiggle like jellyfish
jellyfish is nothing but funky
funky is nothing like funny
Mahdia Jafari, Year 8
Drenched In starlight
He is a favourite of the night; blessed with stardust locks and bright sterling eyes. Although they are the most beautiful, they are bleak and even more dangerous.
When he looks at you with those eyes, those unnerving eyes, you start feeling smaller and smaller. In the presence of the entire solar system, the entire galaxy.
Flying comets had once kissed his cheeks. The fifty freckles dotted across his nose bridge made up the Milky Way, where the Cowherd and Weaver would cross on every seventh lunar month.
His smiles are supernovae, burning with the light of a star now gone. Arrow sharp, his Cupid lips twitched with fervour. They could blow up any second if something didn’t go his way.
He is every universe, is space itself: A vast cold emptiness which no one could understand. Yet they still tried, tried to delve into his existence with their probes and rockets. But they all found nothing.
Miranda Yuan, Y9
He’s as old as the hills
Old as the hills,
his wrinkles are ridges and valleys.
His hair is snow,
powdery and white
and his eyes are caves,
dark as night.
His legs are buried underground,
he’s standing still
not a sound.
His mouth has closed,
formed a river
but when winter comes,
boy, does he shiver.
When I look up, I can just
make out a face.
But I don’t get how, just how
he can tie his lace.
Macy Rochford, Year 6
What if pets were people?
Do they have a government?
Do cats rule the Pet Kingdom?
Do they plan
to overcome us?
Do they have an army
of chipmunks
with nut artillery?
Do they have Tortoise Tanks?
Do they have an Air Force
of trained Parrots?
Do they like being pets?
Hamish Webb, Year 8
Ars Poetica (The boat called poetry)
A blue and yellow boat
sits on the Kaiapoi River.
It has no intention of doing
anything wrong. Nor does it wish
to do anything right.
It glides along the water,
it sits and stares at its reflection,
or it rocks and sways like waves
crashing onto the shore.
It goes where its captain takes it.
I like to call this ‘poetry’.
Anna Viljoen, Year 7
This poem first appeared in Fuego Volume 1, The World Congress of Poets Literary Journal.
Maim Kithom Ham - Where I Am From
I am from my mum flicking the light on and off to wake me up, from hurry up, we're late
To the shouts of my mum getting frustrated.
I am from inside the stories
From tasting each book one by one to see which I like
I am from characters waiting to be read.
I am from annoying siblings
From let me in or I'll tell mum!
To the shrieks, tears and anger.
I am from; You can do it! Stop it, I don't like it!
From fall down, get back up
And don’t compare yourself.
I am from the golden honey-brown roast
from picking out the vegetables and flicking them to the other side of the plate
To breakfast in bed with the pancakes crackling.
I am from chanting Waheguru
inside my head before going to sleep
From the sounds of the duvet, to stay awake.
I am from those Punjabi ways,
From my connection to Punjab.
The doorway to my culture.
Mehakpreet Kaur, Year 8
This poem first appeared in Write On Issue 60 Moments and Milestones
Four of Swords
Four knives
stuck in a wooden holder.
Red lipstick
cap off.
Powder box
swirly flowers on the lid.
Nail polish
with a lilac lid.
Pink ribbon
draping the products.
Cut up cucumber
on her eyes.
Yellow turban
on her head.
Blue top
halter neck.
Ready to kill
the party.
Elle Williams, Year 7
This poem first appeared in Write On Issue 60 Moments and Milestones
The Pouty Pink Lips
The hot pink lips express their beauty for all to see
waiting to be admired
The vibrant, pouty lips and straight white teeth
would make Barbie proud
"Why are you staring?" it seethes
"I know I'm gorgeous, but …"
Self-absorbed, sleek
a sinister beauty
Lips stained pink to hide the scars …
of tragic beauty
You, look, hot!
A Queen Card, not willing to forfeit,
stepping down is not an option
The sun cowers in its presence
a speck of pink glitter atop a matte black world
"Humor me,"
the lips state drily
Elsie Earle, Year 8
What if there are other worlds out there?
What if there are other worlds
out there we know
nothing about?
Places we haven’t explored before?
With glowing violet sunsets
and oceans the palest green.
What if there are worlds
beyond our own, where
there are people just like us,
but very different
in how they live?
Maybe they are wide awake
during the night.
Are there other worlds
that mirror our own?
Is there a place that is exactly
like ours? With everything the same?
A double of you?
A double of me?
A double of me writing a poem
just like this?
Could there be places
more beautiful than ours,
with lush plants, exotic forests,
and stunning crystal lakes?
Or maybe worlds
more dangerous
with evil at every turn
the constant reminder of death.
Very near.
Very real.
Or they could be invisible and
we simply can’t see them
or we haven’t looked hard enough..
Is it because they really
don’t exist?
Daisy Neave, Year 8
Five and a Dozen
Five and a dozen
Birds of a feather
Flocking together
Souls untethered
Five and a dozen
Stalks of heather
Lavender rings
Beautiful things
Five and a dozen
Boats in a sea
Stars in the sky
I still wonder why
Five and a dozen
Worlds skybound
Life underground
Yet to be found
Five and a dozen
Thoughts in my head
Words unsaid
Stories unread
Xuan Xuan Yeo Year 8
This poem first appeared in Write On Issue 60 Moments and Milestones
The poems selected for this page are by young writers from Casebrook Intermediate, Heathcote Valley School, Homeschool, Kaiapoi North School, Knights Stream School, Pegasus Bay School, Tihiraki North Loburn School and Westburn School, as well as Write On Saturday classes and the Write On Summer School 2023.
We commend all schools and whānau that support their young writers by providing opportunities to explore and write poetry.
Some of these poems and many more wonderful pieces appear in Write On Issue 60 You can order your copy now.
(c) Write On and the young poets