Students' Work

On this page will appear exemplary pieces of work that illustrate the skills demonstrated by our students.

A guide to Yorkshire by Nathan Purcell

(click on the image to see the full booklet)

 english nathan 1 2014


Friar;

Child, have you faith? If you do then believe,
If love and fair, young Juliet are your
Purposes, then, pray do; live one day more.
To live is to realise upon that
Realisation. If your heart lies with
Juliet, let it sleep her, warm in bed,
By the light of the moon. And do not sigh
For your loss, for it may be your greatest
Gain. Romeo – live for Juliet as
She does for you. Cry for her as she cries for you.
Live your life with the heat that matches that
Of your love, Romeo, for Juliet.

Emily McHale 

 

Watching


I watched the explosion
Hit the floor
I felt the erosion
And the death I saw
The little girl slid down the hole
As the fire from the bomb
Burnt her like coal
I tried to shout and run to help
But I knew that my body couldn’t
I knew that the man with the gun wouldn’t

It turned out the little girl was still alive
But the man with the gun ended her life
Why would they do it this time in life?
To two little boys, a girl and a wife
Today I saw a boy, girl and mother
Yesterday
I was the other…

Skyla West

(Year 7)

 

The Fire Ghost

Cracked windows, broken floor boards and piles of ash surrounded the room. However, the light looked untouched. The gems in the top were so beautiful; the beams of light that reflected off them were like stage lights shining out into the blackness.


"Brrr," involuntarily Michael shivered as he set foot in the uninhabited classroom. He hadn't been in the old block since the infamous fire that had raged angrily through the school killing innocent children in its wake. Why was it so cold in here? He wondered to himself uneasily and why on earth had he agreed to this ridiculous dare in the first place?


It was all bad Barnaby's fault (that's what the other children called him). If he had just stayed away from him like Miss White, his teacher, had said he wouldn't be in this situation.


On his first day Barnaby had been the only one to talk to him, but now he could see he had been setting him up to make a fool of him. Barnaby had a reputation for being out of control and Miss White said he would lead him astray.


Unexpectedly, the bell went and Michael watched as hordes of vivacious children darted through the gates and into the fresh winter air." Hello," said a girl's voice. Michael turned hoping his senses were deceiving him.


SILENCE...
Standing before him, wearing a white frock, was a small girl who seemed about his age. Her violet lipstick was smudged and her eyes were pools of darkness. Rubbing his own eyes in disbelief, Michael was shocked to find the sight before him was real. The odd looking girl floated over, her pale hair trailing behind her. Michael stumbled backwards until his spine was pushed against the black filing cabinet...Within seconds, the window opened and a breeze flew in. The girl held out her translucent hand and Michael felt as if his heart would jump from his chest. Sweat ran down his face.


Suddenly, the girl dropped an old camera.


"I'm Lucy, the girl who died in the fire. Please take this and make things right! "whispered the girl. Then she was gone....never to be seen again!


Michael started cautiously; the golden clock in the class room caught his eye. He watched it ticking slowly for some time, tick...tick...tick, before realising he was meant to meet his dad twenty minutes ago. He grabbed the camera and ran all the way to the car. Not a word was said on the journey home.


Later that night when everyone was asleep, Michael got his laptop and plugged in the scratched camera. It was footage of the school on fire and a boy running away with a lighter in one hand! It looked like ...Barnaby...


Michael struggled to sleep after that!


The following morning, instead of going to school, Michael walked to the police station with the camera. He placed it gently on the desk with a note reading "here is the evidence you need!"


By Tamsin Ederies 7SG

 

A Fascinating woman

Poetry is a beautiful woman.

She will elude most men.

You can never fully control her she will stay with you one day then leave you the next.

A fascinating woman.

She can be heart-warming like a glowing sunrise on an icy tundra, she can warm your heart and make you famous.

But she can also be a dark, cruel and a heartless mistress, she can leave you heartbroken and betrayed. Her words can leave men ice cold and hollow.

A fascinating woman.

She has travelled the world saved and helped countless lives, yet she has destroyed and ruined just as many.

Poetry is a fascinating woman that no man will ever control or fully understand.

Callum Batty

 

To Be The Elite

Why am I here?

To be the best….to serve Queen and Country, to be just another patriot?

I’m a murderer.

I’ve k-killed so many I’ve lost count, the countless dog tags weigh me down.

S-so many.

My knife has run dull due to all the audiences it has had, my knuckles are rough and hard like sandpaper-due to liberating tooth after tooth from the jaws of my enemies.

My mind like the very explosives I use.

Just waiting for someone to pull the pin…

My face once the shape of a young fresh FNG…., now an old battlefield face of a veteran.

Why?

This….this is the life if you want to be the elite.

Elite…

Callum Battye

 

This Golden Field

Why are you here on this golden field?

Why am I here on this golden field?

We speak the same words, yet I disagree with what you say

 

We both don different colours, yet we love our families.

Are we so different?

Are you trying to control me , to make me like an obedient dog?

Are you trying to keep me safe, to protect me?

Do you care about me?

Why are we here on this golden field with iron and powder in hand?

If we are brothers, should we not care about each other?

As I pull my iron, the oak feels rotten and dead

The hammer feels rusty and broken.

I struggle to pull it back

The key is ice cold and feels frozen.

I do not want to, but I must use the key to open the door for you

We are both son of God

I fear one of us will return to our father

 

Only minutes to go until a hot iron fist

Strikes your heart and constricts around it.

Briefly, I watch the life vanish from your face

I’m sorry brother.

You fall so peacefully as if not in pain

I’m sorry brother, you are not alone

I notice hot iron grasping my heart, seizing my life

Why have we died upon this golden field?

Callum Battye

 

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