Schools Poetry

I am soaring yet my feet are on the ground
I am flying yet on the earth I’m found
I am free yet on turf I remain
I am sending the world a plane.

Written on it is a piece of me...

a faithful bird, unwavering.
jubilant colours hidden beneath a “dull”
disposition dutiful in its carrying
of my worn letter home to you
I send buoyant words...

A little green friend
Gagged by a cork
Inside a message
meant for no one and everyone
I hate the beach...

A sun crashing through the dreams
of a simple panda
his ambitions mountains high
but his desperation is not heard
his hopes flow through the wind...

My grandpa’s light blue car,
its distinctive shade
shining in the sun.
Not a youthful model
but a sight invoking memory...

I pass my message of glass to her outstretched palm,
And with a soothing swoosh she steers the shards away.
Her hands are the last to embrace the weight of my words,
Her tears the last to trickle down the torn pages...

The hands of the waves carry my bottle
Pass it through the sea at full throttle
The ocean sings my message out loud
And gathers the plaice in a crowd
You can hear it from the shore...

Cold winters,
warmed by scorching soup,
Your homemade dough,
has my bowl soaking in its sponge,
The soft crust scratches my tongue...

Amongst the clouds of white,
My paper plane fights the strong winds of my words,
They try to drag my plane to the ground.
The heaviness of them is hard to fight.
But my plane flies on...

My message sent in smoke,
Through dots and dashes
My words stolen by
the winds, hidden in clouds
dancing unknown steps guided by...

Float away,
A bottle goes and holds within it a poem
The things I say they
Drift away and then they’re all alone
Float away the bottle goes...

I am sending a poem
Hidden in plain sight

Squint and you may see it
Hear its truth,
It will linger...