Headington Poetry
Competition 2005:
Winners (children)


Sixty-four children entered the Headington Poetry Competition 2005.
The poems were judged by the poet Bernard O’Donoghue,
who is Fellow in English at Wadham College, Oxford. Here are the winners:


The cry of the wind (Kate Horsnell)

The cry of the wind goes whistling by
Every shop and house and sky;
Whistle it may and whistle it might
Every day and every night.

Along the gutter and through the drain,
Rushing and gushing, the pouring rain.
From the trees, the leaves fall down
In each city, and county, and town.

Through Headington the wind whistles by,
Blowing the leaves all down from the sky.


Wouldn’t it be great if… (Kate Ellis Sawyer)

Wouldn’t it be great if in the old manor grounds
There was a fantastic firework display,
And the new sculpture was all lit up
And the sky was full of colourful spray,
From the fantastic fire work display
All the children in the play park,
And all the children on the slide,
And all the children on the swings,
Would gaze with their mouths open wide
At the fantastic firework display
A live band would play all night,
There would be plates piled high with food
And fruit punches of all sorts,
Just to get everyone in the mood,
For a fantastic firework display,
There would be whiz, bangs and pops,
And all the next day,
Everyone would say
What a fantastic firework display.


My box (Temitoyen Ochugboju)

I remember everything in my box.

My box held all the thoughts hopes and dreams of every child that would change the future.
My box held all the promises made and broken.

My box held the nightmares that will haunt you forever.
My box held all the people that changed the world locked up in a diamond ring.

My box held the golden hearts of anyone who was loved,
And passed that love on to the world.

My box held the all the teardrops that fell like pearls
Ffom the eyes of every broken-hearted woman.

My box held the will of every man to carry on.
My box held the faith and hope of every slave that one day they will be free.
My box held the lives that so many people never got to live.

My box could hold the last laugh of a dying woman and stretch it forever,
So she would live forever and spread joy to all her grand children and their children.

My box could spread joy hope and laughter to the world.
My box had the jewels of nature’s crown studded in the lid.
My box held the secret to life itself in the corner.

This box was given to me by the ghost of the wisest person
With the power to make diamonds with their bare hands.
This was their gift to the world through me.
I opened the box and her gifts came flooding out.
I never kept them.
This is my gift to the world.
These are precious don’t take them for granted.
Look after them for me.
Now I’m going to sleep.
My love for you will last longer than the stars.
Good night.


Headington seasons (Lucinda Kenrick)

The winter has wiped out,
The warmth from the town,
And the life was swept,
Like the ash from hearth.

The cavalry comes,
In the form of the spring,
Bringing new life, rebirth,
Great joy and new hope.

The summer takes over,
And fights spring with ease,
Using sun and the sea,
And warm grainy sand.

The archers are autumn,
With brown leaves and red,
The green grass is fading,
With winter on its way.

Winter brings a freeze,
Though warmth is found within,
The Christmas spirit is in us all,
The snow is falling gently.

The winter has wiped out
The warmth from his town,
The cycle has started,
The seasons shall start.


White horses are gone (Rosie Maddison)

I get so deep, white horses are gone,
So gentle as if I’m asleep, white horses are gone,
I don’t splash I don’t spit, white horses are gone,
I usually lash but I don’t, white horses are gone.


Headington poem (Eloise Stoneman)

This is my twelfth spring cycling
As I pass over the lush grass
‘Whoosh’ as my wheels slide through the dew
The circle of each wheel spilling out hope.

I feel like the child of hope, the child of life
Watching my path of my journey ahead
Trying to steer, keeping my balance
Will the roads be rocky or smooth?

Passing through Headington, my life shines through
The branches, leaves and bicycle wheels
As I watch the path of my journey ahead
I know each day will be as good as the last


The colours of the world (Tamsin Fox)

Red is the colour of danger
When you’re lost outside in the woods,
Your heart beating faster and faster, not knowing where to go.

Orange is the colour of comfort
When you’re ill at home by the fire,
Your family by your side, knowing that someone
Will always be there for you.

Yellow is the colour of warmth
When it’s night-time and you’re snuggling in bed,
Whilst reading a book that makes you feel happy inside.

Lime green is the colour of freshness
When it’s a summer’s day,
You’re dancing in the garden without a care in your mind.

Blue is the colour of sadness
When you’re walking home in the rain,
You feel like no one wants you, no one loves you, no one cares.

Purple is the colour of pride
When you’re told you won the competition,
You stand up tall and go to the front to collect your prize.

Brown is the colour of adventure
When you’re pacing slowly along the red-hot rocks,
Chatting to your friends joyfully,
Thinking longingly of your reward.

All the colours of the world
Swirling around your head like a magical rainbow.


6pm: London Road, Headington (Kathryn Clelland)

Shops are empty, buses loaded, cars zooming.
Roads full, bikes whistling, doors opening.
People walking, people running, people skipping.
Ambulance honking, fire engine screaming,
And the burglar alarm yelping.
Rain is thunderous, thunder banging.
And friends … just laughing.


Poppies (Magda Salvesen)

Written for Remembrance Day

Swaying in the wind
Like a field of blood.

Sunset comes
Bathing them in
An evening shade of orange.

Darkness looms
Sly as a shadow
The sight closes for the night.

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