POETRY WEEK AT SCHOOL

                                                   "I AM A TREE" by PAT MOON

 
                                                "ALL WE NEDD" by STEVE TURNER

   

"I´D LIKE TO SQUEEZE" by JOHN AGARD

 

PAINT ME A POEM on PhotoPeach

TO THE MEMORY OF MY FATHER

The Rainbow comes and goes,

And lovely is the Rose,

The Moon doth with delight

Look round her when the heavens are bare;

Waters on a starry night

Are beautiful and fair;

The sunshine is a glorious birth;

But yet I know, where'er I go,

That there hath past away a glory from the earth.

BY W. WORDSWORTH

ROSALÍA DE CASTRO

THEY SAY THAT PLANTS DO NOT SPEAK

They say that the plants do not speak, not the brooks, nor the birds,
Nor the waves with their roar, not with their brilliance the stars,
So they say: but one cannot be sure, for always when I go by,
They whisper about me and say
“Ah, there goes the madwoman, dreaming,
Of the everlasting springtide of life and the fields,
And yet soon, very son, her hair will be grey,
And trembling, frozen, she sees that the frost is upon the grass
-There are gray hairs in my head, there is frost on the lawns,
But I press on dreaming, poor, incurable somnambulist,
With the eternal spring of life that goes
And the perennial freshness of the fields and souls,
Although some were scorched and although others scorch.
Stars  and fountains and flowers, will not murmur of my dreams,
Without them, neither can one admire -  nor can one live without them.
Translation Kate Flores

 PAINTED BY PREGO DE OLIVER