Congratulations to Risheet Mandal in 7G and Aaryn Padhi in 7T who were both Highly Commended in the Shepton Snowdrops International Poetry Competition. The theme this year was ‘Nature Unbound’ and their thoughtfully crafted poems have both been published in the competition’s 2024 anthology.
NATURE UNBOUND – RISHEET MANDAL
The wind races through the fields, the mountains, and the trees,
Chuckling with pure delight, as if playfully trying to tease,
Forests shake at the strength of the wind as it blows,
WHOOSH! Storms explode like nature has turned on its high-power hose,
The sky rumbles with the feared wrath of Zeus,
And ponds & rivers are made deafening by the screech of duck and goose,
Volcanoes explode as if wanting to cover the earth in flames,
And lions ROAR, not playing any games,
The sea chops in an uncontrollable anger,
Making waves so strong, that they break the strongest anchor,
It seems as if the sun wants to destroy us all,
Breaking pieces of glacier each day, wide and tall,
The ground shakes with the violent anger of the earth,
Earthquakes are something to fear from birth,
Tsunamis and floods make towns part of the sea,
Making many, many people flee!
We all know Nature is full of destruction,
But we must remember that beauty will always be part of its construction…
Forests, trees and grass dance peacefully with the breeze,
Like the wind is a tune to dance to at ease,
Rain makes the small beats in soundless nights,
Storm’s beauty lays in sounds, not in sights,
Poseidon lets his sea appear calm and blue,
We all love a summer sea, isn’t that true?
The sun beams down upon us all,
Making us smile, and the flowers stand tall,
Greenery and colour fill our planet everywhere,
And we’ll protect the world by planting trees here and there,
Nature unbound is something to love,
Everything is nature, below to above.
THE WIND-SWEPT WOODS – AARYN PADHI
The bare weather-beaten trees wave in the winter gale
like puppets on fraying string,
Like an invading army, the serrated spears of rain, sleet, and hail
ricochet off my keen quills with a painful ping.
Across the moor a fleeting bird flees from the rain,
The morbid weather has brought about nothing but pain.
The rain is a whip beating a helpless tree,
The poor plant is helpless and unable to flee.
My quills are sharp my quills are strong,
But even I cannot hold out so long.
I can barely remember the last time I had food to eat,
Nor can I recall when I last rested my weary feet.
I sniff the ground beneath my paws,
Soon the forest will be back to its usual laws.
I must hide from the storm,
Flee into a hole until the woods are back to norm.