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Posted on March 14th 2018
World War II Documents Inspire Poetry
Year 8 and 9 students recently toured London Metropolitan Archives and explored key records from World War II, before writing some outstanding poetry inspired by the maps, letters and government documents which they'd seen.
We're really #ProudToBeHAB of our students' poems so here are a few for you to enjoy too.
Lives shattered again.
Empty feelings, empty homes,
Nothing is the same.
School are deserted,
Cannot heal the broken wounds,
Tears are now falling.
Bells are ringing out,
Debris is covering land,
Smoke is everywhere.
Train hooting away,
Children climbing up aboard,
Hope is evident.
Tiffany
Children’s screams and cries
Rather face bombs than this pain
Rations can’t fill voids
London in chaos
Hope is but a fantasy
Rubble the man’s grave
States of constant fear
Gas masks an accessory
Faces stained with tears
Zahra
London in Pieces
Bang. Bombs drop on our city
Everything is lost!
Evacuation,
Children escape to safety
Alone and confused.
Amy
Choking for air,
Yet it’s not the smoke which chokes me.
Pain erupts inside me,
Yet it’s not no longer the bomb which pains me.
The sun rising above,
Is but a mockery, another day without you.
The child-sized void inside me,
No matter how many rations still starves me.
This gas mask, my only accessory.
Although I miss you, I won’t let you back.
Despite my pain, you cannot get hurt
And I love you so much that I won’t let you be with me.
Zahra
The coast is clear now,
My lights away from me.
Can I get them back?
Every depressing breath that escapes my abysmal figure,
Is a reminder of my tedious existence, without them.
My flag stands upright.
We have not succumbed,
Yet our world is now wilting,
Our flag stands upright.
Through our rationing,
Through our fog,
Through our forlorn suffocation,
Our flag stands upright.
The gas condenses my anger.
My friends have lift, I stay.
I yearn for my past,
Though it may be tainted
But my flag miraculously remains.
My orders are clear, my actions intent.
A large, sinister force rips from
The control of my plane,
Ashes. Flames. Screams.
The soundtrack of my journey,
I plan to destroy the flag that still manages to stand upright,
To usurp it of its production of moral.
Ava
