Mermaids

            There was a young man,

            His name was Redley

He had kind little eyes

But his smile was deadly

This clever young man

With his chilling grin

Took children home

And took off their skin

He cast it aside

And instead gave them scales

And once they had stuck

He began to sew on their tails

Redley would smile

Oh, how he would grin

When he took off their arms

And gave them two fins

He wouldn’t give them back

He was mad, you’ll agree

But you should’ve seen his grin

As he tossed them into the sea

‘Goodbye, my little ones!’

Oh, how he’d bellow

As he left them forever

To live with their mermaid fellows

R

Poetry Competition - Stepping Stones Charity

Hi Folks,

Here is some information about a competition for the charity Stepping Stones Nigeria.

The charity was set up in Lancaster and campaigns to raise awareness about people in Nigeria, often young children, who are persecuted by being labelled as witches. The competition is set up to tie in with the anniversary of the trials of the Pendle witches, and hopes to raise awareness about modern day witch hunts.  

This link for more information is at the bottom of the post...

As well as the incentive of raising awareness of a charity that does such good work, prizes include having your poem published and also Waterstones vouchers.

Have a go! And don't forget to keep posting on the blog!

Mary

http://www.steppingstonesnigeria.org/poetry-competition.html

They say: "We are hoping to motivate young people to write and discover poetry by asking them to imagine, reflect, react as to what it may feel like to be persecuted or discriminated against because of differences, and what it would be like to live with little hope of achieving their dreams".

"Me"

To all the school bullies who made fun of me because I put my hand up in class,
To all the boys, who never spoke to me, but still looked at my ass,
And to all the parents and children who loved me for volunteering in the library, thank you.
For all the usernames on YouTube who still find time to hate,
The shop assistants and waiters, handing me bills and plates,
The daydreamers on the college bus and the late sleepers next door who, no matter how many times played, still love Adele's "Someone Like You".
And all the musicians I have played but never met, all the writers I have read and inspire to be, thank you.
To all the teachers who gave me E's and A stars,
All the nurses who went an extra mile far and my parents, for loving me and my weirdness.
For my sister who is way cooler than I could ever be,
All the old crushes, the "gorgeous" ones who didn't know me,
My friends who made me laugh and my boyfriend who made me laugh harder. Thank you.
But right now, I thank the platform on which I stand, my plaited good luck bracelet on my left hand and Blue Peter, who interviewed Jacqueline Wilson, who - and I quote - said "anyone can write".
I thank your parents for letting you loose in this metallic jungle, I thank the gods of imagination, there has to be more than one, and I thank all the hearts, lungs and brains around me.
Because I am me, this girl of 18, stood in quivering fear and awe that my idea is vocalised out to you.
I don't care about the idiots, who does, right?
I don't care for every enemy I've had to fight,
And I don't care for the tales of the monsters at night, for those tales lie and those monsters are no more grotesque than you or I.
So I thank you all, for making me "Me", for my 6 pounds and 8 ounces of life and 1993.
And you're welcome, for I hope this has somehow made yourself more "You" and nothing more.
Thank you.