Stars in Jars (5 page)

while I jump the cracks in the pavement.

Three more turnings to go –

my tea is rinsing my Frosties.

Mums and dads walk towards me,

the lollipop lady has gone.

I launch into a flat spin,

hang up my coat,

race to my classroom –

the register has just begun.

I wish I was Gillian Costigan,

with hair brushed sleek

and clothes that fit.

I wish I was Gillian Costigan

with money in my pocket every single week.

Her smile is wide,

her shoes have a shine,

she has friends to tea,

she laughs all the time.

I wish I was Gillian Costigan.

She has holidays in Greece,

her dad loves her mum,

she has nieces and nephews,

a nan and a gran,

her sarnies are thick

with hard cheese and ham.

I wish I was Gillian Costigan

with a slide in my hair,

a huge mum to hug me,

a new top to wear.

My best friend has a best friend,

she is a bester friend than me,

but when they have a falling out

my friend is best with me.

The chandeliers were like upside-down sparkly trees,

the sofas were as long as stretch limousines.

I sunk, waist-deep, in red carpet,

nibbled miniature scones.

Watched by her Rembrandt and Vermeer

the Queen came near. She smiled.

“And which school are you from?

Are you enjoying your visit?”

I ran to my teacher.

“I've just spoken to THE QUEEN!”

My mouth was as wide as Japan.

“Really, she's just like my nan!”

for Tess

One day, while out walking,

the Queen of Asking Stupid Questions met

the Queen of Stating The Obvious.

“Are you walking to town?” asked the Queen of Asking.

“This is such a long road,” said the Queen of Stating,

peering at the spires in the distance.

The sky was purple and grey.

“Will it rain, do you think?” asked the Queen of Asking.

“This umbrella is full of holes,” said the Queen of Stating.

Her curls dripped down her cheeks.

“Will it take long?” asked Asking.

“As long as it takes,” said Stating.

for Oswald and Selhurst Boys

When is a boy not a boy?

When he's a plank of wood.

When is a boy a plank of wood?

When he goes rigid with fear.

When does a boy go rigid with fear?

When he's being carried across the river.

When is a boy carried across the river?

When he's the smallest in a party of boys being chased by bullocks.

When is a boy part of a party of boys being chased by bullocks?

When they're being taken for a walk to the nearest village by their history teacher.

When is a boy taken for a walk to the nearest village by his history teacher?

When he's staying in a thatched farmhouse to do creative writing in the middle of Devon.

When does a boy stay in a thatched farmhouse to do creative writing in the middle of Devon?

When he's capable of becoming a plank of wood.

She wore her jumper inside-out –

we could all see the seams,

it had to stay the whole day long

or she would not see her dreams.

She wore her belt the wrong way round,

with the buckle at the back,

sitting on an upright chair

it gave her back a crack.

She wore her smile upside-down,

to make the children giggle,

they ran off to the playground

with a wriggle and a wiggle.

She walks on a bottomless duvet,

her arms carve arcs in the air –

fingers outstretched,

boat-bottom hands,

they fall like feathers

never reaching the ground.

Her circle skirt pleats

glide behind her, beside her,

folding, unfolding –

an opening fan.

Her voice glances each child

with gossamer.

pull the trigger                bubble up

pull the trigger            bubble down

pull the trigger         pull the trigger

bubbles    getting   awful     bigger,

pull    the    trigger    turning    round,

standing    in    your    dressing    gown.

A paradiddle is a drumming pattern
.

Punctuate that lunch you ate

last Thursday in the caff,

those beans would like a comma

and those sausages a dash.

Not to mention that the egg

wants a curly question mark,

and if the chips don't get one too

they'll get in a terrible nark.

The tomatoes want quotation marks,

the mushrooms are on the hop –

because all they want to see

is a brown sauce squirt full stop.

You are a very important person,

You always have a CAPITAL ‘I',

You are a very important person,

I speak no word of a lie,

You are a very important person,

Whether you're a cool girl or a gorgeous guy,

You're a very important person,

You deserve a CAPITAL ‘I'.

In fact, without a doubt,

You deserve a CAPITAL ‘I'

Which climbs straight through the ceiling

And hits the clear blue sky

Where a dragonfly is singing,

“Can I have a CAPITAL ‘I'?”

(
A found poem
)

LILLY – making up a new game in the playground

Yr1

REUBEN – talking to his seeds to make them grow

ABDULA – eating every bit of his lunch for a whole week