Our poem of the month from Clare Shaw, poet in residence for the BASPCAN 2018 Child Protection Congress

Poetry Writing with Year 8

Caitlin thinks Jackie Kay

switched on the Blackpool lights.

No, I say, that’s Peter.  Now tell me

one thing about your room.

Ellie glares from the back row

and Emily won’t meet my eye.

 

It’s the coldest day today

by far. The mountains are black in the dusk

but the lake is sunset, my arms are wings

and the water is fiery with frost.

I come from a town full of smackheads,

he tells us, but my house is boss.

 

If someone reads out

they’re showing you what’s in their heart

and you must respect it.

I come from the forest, she says,

I come from the back of the co-op

and the sea is a road

 

and the moon is a candle. Miss,

no-one plays music in our house.

No-one leaves home

unless home is the mouth of a shark

and I’m lost, my street is dark.

and I come from the sea,

 

I come from pizza,

from chicken nuggets, I come from

the Xbox and telly

I come from a town of useless parents

and on the North Sea, the waves are roaring.

The seagulls are children, crying

 

and though the stars are shining

there’s nowhere to shelter from the rain.

This is what’s in my heart

and you should respect it.

I come from silence, he says.

It’s the only music I hear.

 

To find out more about the congress, read other poems by Clare, or to book (hurry, Early Bird bookings close at the end of December), please go to our website: https://www.baspcan.org.uk/congress-2018/