Everyday Objects - winning entries

The Pen is Mightier Than the Sword

Within the delicate palms of mortal creation
We create words that speak Freedom that no speech could ever tell
In my right hand I hold the mighty Pen
Here I inscribe the Truth to all who dare to read
Here I engrave dreaming dreams into wild fantasy
For those who are rendered silent and words cannot bring justice
Remember the Pen is mightier than the Sword
From the flick of the wrist and scrawl of the Pen
We construct the world we love and know so well
We scribble profound concepts that words could never show
Even when rebuked and abused and mistreated for daring thoughts
Remember this well, and whisper it with inspiration
The Pen is mightier than the Sword.

Serena Dewar
Meadowhead School 11D

 

The Gas Mask

I look down at the lifesaving gas mask I had worn in the Second World War
It seems so useless now, having being last used only two years ago, when the war ended.
A forgotten relic from ancient times, it looks like.
A battered leather shell, each cracked lens a mirror reflecting the panic and fear of the one who wore it.
A banner carried into battle on a scared soldier’s face, carefully worn to save a soul from death.
A holy filter, designed to make something so foul and evil pure and safe.
To think of how many times it saved me from death!
It deserves to be placed on a silk cushion, worshipped as a hero, not placed inside a rotting, damp box and left there.
This single mask represents all the conflict and strife I and so many others had been through.
The cloudy lenses looking like the eyes of death itself.
The rough, leathery skin seeming like hardened battle armour.
The filter appearing to be an open mouth, screaming for help.
More than just another gas mask.
More than just another piece of equipment.
More than a uniform.
More than war itself.
This gas mask represents strife, suffering, pain.
This mask shows us the human spirit, our nature, our will to harm others.
This mask……
Is the human race in a leather shell.

Jack Arnott-Taylor
Meadowhead School  8G

 

Smile, Click, Flash

The first time I captured a moment,
I saw two young faces shining with glee.
The years went by as the faces grew older,
Sometimes glaring at me

She suddenly started to lose her shine,
Long hair grew thinner and clipped
Frail little smiles seeped out onto her lips,
As she held on tightly, tighter and slipped

I grew older and older like the couple,
They loved me even so.
I was there at the most precious moments,
Like the time she had to go.

The moments I capture, from now till forever,
Will not hold her face or her smile
The film in my head holds still frames instead,
Of the fresh movements of human life.

Phoebe McAuley
Meadowhead School 7H
 

The Mask

The dancers swirl and spin past each other, like waves dancing in a stormy sea. They are all clothed like something out of a fairy tale- bright and beautiful but still so surreal, the beauty turning it into something untouchable, something not right, something so unreal. A spinning mass of colour and light, all as entrancing as the next but there is one, one that is different from the rest. Try as they might, all eyes focus on her. She steals all the attention, those who are around her fade in comparison with her wondrous appearance. She is a fresh bloomed rose, precious and delicate, not yet harmed by the danger of the outside.

Her dress flows along the ground, intricate and shimmering. It is a stunning gold, flecked with silver and white and as she spins she becomes candlelight, enchanting and special. She doesn’t notice the shadow in which he looms. Where he watches her. Why would she? He is one of many. She doesn’t notice as he approaches, his eyes never leaving her, caught up in her spell.

He slips into the circle, desperate to be closer, to take what he wants as his own. He dances with others fleetingly, their touch too hot on his icy skin. They’re too startling and garish to hold his attention. Finally he reaches her, slipping away from another, like a shadow in the setting sun.

Her face is covered by a mask, gold with threads of red and silver flashes as they hit the light. He smiles as he joins his hands with hers, her heart beating in time with his own. The silver flashes as it enters her side, the scarlet mixing with gold, as wild and ferocious as flame. She drops to the ground and he is gone. Just another shadow. Sinking into the darkness.

Gabriella Johnson
Meadowhead School 9K

 

The Magic Carpet Ride

One cool day I was flying on my magic gleaming carpet. But just then I heard a BOOM.
It was a magic transformer that came from a new kind of planet.  He was nice to me, I just didn’t get it. Five minutes later he showed me some of his tricks. My best trick was the rocket feet. He kindly invited me to the rocky moon from out of space. Ten minutes later we were there.

I loved the moon’s gravity. I saw something heading for earth. Oh, no!! There are some space rocks heading for earth, I have got to find a way to stop them. I managed to catch them. When I landed back on earth I saw something green on the building. It came closer and closer and closer, it was a giant turtle, I had to catch it!!

I set a big, big trap and I caught it. It was a present for Grandma. I got on my magic sparkly carpet and got home in a flash. I found Grandma and gave her the cool turtle. She took it and said, Thank you!

Blake Costello
Woodseats Primary School Y2

 

The Candle

Cold and alone the candle sleeps
His hair sways side to side in the breeze
Hiding from the wind just like playing hide and seek
Slowly it starts to cry, a clear tear rolls down its cheek
The flam warns everyone to stay away
The flame is like a red and yellow tear that will soon fade away
The Candle is like a human comes alive and dies
The wax is like ice-cream melting, drip, drop, drip, drop

Sophie Carr
Lower Meadow Primary School Y5