From the hilarious ‘Dentist and the Crocodile’ by Roald Dahl to the thought provoking ‘Remember me’ by Ray Mather, pupils and teachers were treated to a colourful selection of poetry and rhyme at this year’s poetry competition.

Over the Christmas break each and every pupil chose and learnt a poem to recite at this year’s poetry competition. Since the beginning of term everyone had the opportunity to perform their poem in their English class, as part of the early rounds of the competition. For some this was quite nerve racking, standing in front of their fellow pupils to deliver their poem; others relished another opportunity to perform. What mattered most was that everyone had a go and learnt a great deal about what makes an excellent recital.

Beautifully recited by Lily Talbot, one of the semi-finalists:

Winter: My Secret, by Christina Rossetti, 1830 – 1894

I tell my secret? No indeed, not I;
Perhaps some day, who knows?
But not today; it froze, and blows and snows,
And you’re too curious: fie!
You want to hear it? well:
Only, my secret’s mine, and I won’t tell.

Or, after all, perhaps there’s none:
Suppose there is no secret after all,
But only just my fun.
Today’s a nipping day, a biting day;
In which one wants a shawl,
A veil, a cloak, and other wraps:
I cannot ope to everyone who taps,
And let the draughts come whistling thro’ my hall;
Come bounding and surrounding me,
Come buffeting, astounding me,
Nipping and clipping thro’ my wraps and all.
I wear my mask for warmth: who ever shows
His nose to Russian snows
To be pecked at by every wind that blows?
You would not peck? I thank you for good will,
Believe, but leave the truth untested still.

Spring’s an expansive time: yet I don’t trust
March with its peck of dust,
Nor April with its rainbow-crowned brief showers,
Nor even May, whose flowers
One frost may wither thro’ the sunless hours.

Perhaps some languid summer day,
When drowsy birds sing less and less,
And golden fruit is ripening to excess,
If there’s not too much sun nor too much cloud,
And the warm wind is neither still nor loud,
Perhaps my secret I may say,
Or you may guess.