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I was watching a little brown bud on a tree

When one day it burst into a flower.

A lovely one, just as white as can be,

From the sun shining on it each hour.

I sat down on the bank of a shimmering pond,

When out of the reeds and lilies,

Swam a mother duck and behind her trailing

Were twelve sweet duckie babies.

On one clear, spring morning I went for a walk,

When over the grass and heather,

Came the tiny bleat of a new-born lamb,

Lost and calling its mother.

A tree that I thought to be dead is alive!

And covered in leaves, small and green.

And perched high in the bows of that tree,

Birds sing of the wonders they’ve seen.

by Amelia (12, UK)

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Little green points

Poking their heads out of the ground.

Springtime is coming,

with the flowers all around.

The deer are sniffing the cool fresh air,

With their noses quivering and trembling.

The rabbits come bouncing out of their holes,

All happy that spring has come.

Waterfalls and rivers bubbling and gurgling along

Springtime is coming with the sound of a throng.

Honey bees and blossom in the air of the sky,

My little bee is happily buzzing by.

by Emmanuel (8, UK)

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In the springtime when

The ducks are quacking,

The kittens are playing,

And the birds are singing

On a branch of the apple tree,

In the middle of her nest,

A little mother sparrow

Is sitting on her eggs.

It is this season that plants come to life

Because in it is the day

That we shout, “Hurray!”

Because the Lord arose from the dead.

by Xenia (10, UK)

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Slowly and steadily the bees take the nectar.

In spring the blue bells sing, while the birds hum random tunes in London's centre

Foxes enter homes and trip on garden gnomes

They take or steal whatever roams

Bees look for nectar in the flowers cracks

Whilst the queen bee sits and relax

When they come back they produce honey in stacks

Spring is when the birds sing

Wanting to fly and spread their wings

The waves sway away just like the people on holiday

It's a perfect time for fun as people get their say

You're always happy when it's spring, the sky is never grey

People take it for granted until it's over.

Even when their in Kent or Dover

You’ll always see daisies or clovers.

By Nathaniel (11 years, UK)

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Music, the great sound of music.

You listen to it, you live it, and you feel it.

There are sad songs, mad songs, and glad songs.

No matter where you live the beat never stops.

It’s obsessive even in your dreams.

You could listen to it when you sleep or in the spring.

It flows as smooth as a waterfall,

like chocolate melting so far down.

It could be bumpy which could leave a frown.

Musics so serene like the buds in the spring.

Maybe you don’t know but you listen to it everyday,

From the birds singing to the bunnies squeaking.

A rainbow forming after the rain, like music you don’t have to pay.

Thunderstorms dressing up the sky which has music's same apparel.

There is music for all four seasons, welcomings, and farewells.

By Kassiani (13 years, USA)

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In the spring,

I want to wear a top with ladybird spots.

I want to wear a fluffy skirt made of the tulip petals.

I want to wear bird shoes which I can fly around in the sky.

I want to wear socks made of dandelion fluff.

I want to wear many necklaces matching with daisy earrings.

I want to wear lots of butterflies with hair clips on my head.

Now I'm ready, I'm on my way to the pastel coloured rainbow slide in the sky.

By Cotty (8 years)

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When the summer is close by,

And the flowers start to bloom,

and when there is no signs of any snow or gloom.

Its when birds come back with their first song,

And it is the time Christ arose from the grave.

Rejoice humans and animals, for it is time for rejoicing.

When birds come to us the first song of the birds can be heard,

And birthdays are happening more and more.

The snow withers away after winter causes hay.

Trees start to carry leaves, and that happens when the time of frozen lakes slowly becomes deceased.

It is the time when Summer is really near, and fun is in the air. Let us announce it, Spring is here!

By Nicolas (10 years, USA)

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New Summer 2022 Short Story Competition! 

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New Summer 2022 Short Story Competition! 

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Go to padlet: https://padlet.com/NektariaP/nwvcp36ya25ooj3q

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Im lying in the grass
Surrounded by daisies
They are making me lazy
I hope this will last

It feels so unreal
The sky so calm
I lie under a palm tree
I hope this will last

I see a bird land
As it looks for worms
It takes off again, down to the lakes
I hope this will last

I see a big oak tree
Welcoming bees
The leaves sway in the breeze
I hope this will last

Daisies, daffodils, sun
All of spring is full of fun
The sky all blue
I wish this would last

By Anisha Narula and Lara Ginn
8A

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When I look down

I see ground

When I look up

I see clouds

When I look forward

I see you and I

Lying in the grass

Looking at the sky

If the trees grow green

And the sky is blue

Then another promise

Is that me and you

Will hold hands,

Stay up late

Dancing 'neath the stars

Every day

There is a fire in your eye

Where there used to be a sea

Are you doing better here

Standing next to me

Or is it cause

The trees are green

And the sky is blue

In a dream of spring

Where me and you

Are holding hands

Staying up late

Dancing 'neath the stars

Every day

By Margaret P. (12 years, USA)

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The willow creaks and sways

But it stands to give us shade

In the cold and dreary night

It dies and weeps without the light

As our Savior died for us

The willow weeps in grief

Just as He wept in our sins

And went limp as the willows own last leaf

He cried out to the Father Almighty

“My God, My God why have you forsaken me”

And suffered, suffered, suffered on

Until “It is finished” said He

In the dark the willow droops

Sits in cold, dark sadness

The stillness is what sickens me

In this grief there is no gladness

But lo! The son has risen

Upon the third day He will arise

Death and evil has been conquered

And forgiven are our sins and lies

Just as in the morning light

The willow shall stand straight

Flowers and beauty shall shine forth

And in the light there is no hate

An angel sat upon the tomb

As Mary and Martha came

To anoint His holy body

Till the angel called her name

“Why do you search for the dead among the living”

Martha and Mary were struck with awe

For our God who we thought had died was risen

As any who came to his tomb saw

The willows beauty and light

Our Savior's grace and might

One they are and forever will be,

For they both made it through the night

By Margaret (12 years, USA)

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The worst for him was his dog turned wolf,

And the blood that trickled and trailed from its mouth,

As they fled.
The worst for me was my seated painful wait.
My torn sleeve tugged tightly back.
Blood soaked and shaken and doctor bound.

I winced like a boxer between bouts;

Whilst, I’m held for the needle,

That rubs pains pain out.

I submit to the quick stitch, the thread black

Against pink skin.

I conceded that this stranger could be trusted and embraced their sympathetic

Smiling eyes.

By Aidan, UK

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Song of Loreley, a crude

Reveille. A call of arms to

The humble fisherman to

Reap their seed and grow from it

Humble flower. As he

Presents a sparking match to his

Pursed lips, chalked smoke seeps from the

Freshly-lit cigarette and

Reaches down from between his

Knuckles to efface rouge

Velours from the grassy claws of

The petals to a sheer grey.

As the meek flower sheds its

Hips, Fisherman comes to his

Knees. His stained fingertip trailing

The path of the fallen

Fruit to land upon the

Paper silhouette of a short

Pleasure. Humble Fisherman

Reveals his palms to caress

The fallen hip. As he

Rinses its raw flesh in the

Shimmers of the Rhine, the

Fibreglass pill encased

Within his cigarette sheds its

Ashy corpse and splits

On the rock in a storm of

Embers. Lorelei shrieks.

Flowers would wither

And an eclipse

Of storm shrouds the sun. The hip,

Shielded in the Fisher-

man’s hand, dissolves into a

Puddle of mould and maggots,

Melting through the maiden skin

Of his palms. As the sun turns

Blacker and the ashes of

Fisherman’s flower grow finer,

His bones grind down to a

Fine coating of soot on the

Surface of Loreley’s black-

ened soils.

When no trace remains, she sings

Again, alluring another

Suitor with her songs to

Turn her rocky face green once

More in the fresh spring of tides.

By Archie (16, UK)

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We all walk the Earth like everything is fine
But we all know, everyone is sad
We know that we are sad by the fake smile
The dried eyes when we walk into school
The scratched wrist that is covered
Bruised thighs from beating ourselves up over decisions we make
My mind is dark and filled with pain
Like a black sky before the rain
I need to get over it everyone says
Thoughts about everything cannot stop the pain
We live in the world of pain, no one will know
Now fake a smile and go

- Cameryn R (12 years, USA)

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With joy on all faces
in the clear and starry night
with bells ringing
And Candles alight

If you listen closely
You will also hear
The wonderful voices
Chanting, Oh so clear

Over the hills
And inside of every house
“Christ is Risen” is chanted
From the mouth of every spouse

The sun, as if it is listening
Rises that morning clear
Dancing on the horizon
What a beautiful morning here

Let us also cry aloud
And raise our voices too
Christ is here,
And everything is renewed!

By Lydia (14 years, USA)

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I was so happy when I was younger

So happy with the life I had

So confident in our own little ways

So happy on all of the days

Then a storm came in

Took everything away from me

Also took my happiness away

Now nothing here to see

I am empty like a black hole

As I lost all the glee

Today I am fidgety and stressed

I have lost everything

There is no way to see it

No one has ever been in my position

No one will ever feel I felt,

I lost everything

By Cameryn (12 years, USA)

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As Blossom trees near their great bloom,
And mounds of happiness with no signs of gloom,
Birdsong echoing through towering trunks,
Crystal clear lakes, washing out gunk,
Awakened are the wild ones, eager for food,
They scour the wilderness, berries and rats they pursued.
Welcoming winds, winding through willows,
Watch as the hyacinth, stretches and grows.
Fresh spring air smells like fragrant fruity perfume,
Flustered family members, frantically sweeping with a broom.
The sound of celebration fills the entire land,
As the once thick snow, now lies thinner than sand.

By Adwin (11 years, Hong Kong)

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The ring of spring
is in the air.
The ring of spring
is everywhere.
The swish of
grasses in the breeze,
the song of birds
in the trees.
Mother spring rides on that breeze.
Her touch is light, she opens buds,
Everything bears signs of spring.

Rosie Allen (USA)

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The ring of spring
with birds on wing.
The flowers are the bells.

By Leona Allen (USA)

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When the early church bells start to ring,

And, “Christ is risen!” is what they sing.

When the birds start to call,

And all the trees start being tall.

When the cherry blossoms start to bloom,

And when there in no sign of any gloom.

When the candle starts to glow,

And the farmer begins to sow,

That’s when everything starts to grow.

Its the time after Winter,

And the time after you get all the splinters,

From all the firewood you have to chop,

It always make you look at the clock.

This is Springtime, a time so divine!

The time when Christ made things shine brighter than a dime.

Andrea (13 years, USA)

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The blossoms on the trees,

they grow and make me sneeze.

But soon the petals will be fallen,

and there will be no more pollen.

Then the fruit will come at last,
coming with a sweetness blast.

Ripe and ready, Sweet and soft,

now it's ready, come pick it off.

By M (12 years, USA)

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The forest is like a place that I would like to live in.
The forest is like the garden of Eden, the flowers had such a beautiful bloom.

It feels like I'm in my dreams.

And whenever I look out the window I feel as if I am looking at heaven.

I love the forest because the forest is the creation of God.
That is why I love it.

The forest has so many noises: not the loud ones but the nice and quiet ones.

In the morning I hear all the lovely birds and woodpeckers that make it a glorious morning.

The night is not the same but I hear the crickets and the owls; that sounds nice.

The forest teaches me to be quiet and when I have time I do my prayers and do my cross in the forest.

By Ella (12 years, USA)

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Whose gorgeous crops are those? I think I know,
Its owner must be quite happy though,
Full of joy like a beautiful rainbow,
I watch him laugh. I cry hello,

He gives his eggs a little shake,
And laughs as the cake bakes,
The only other sound's the break,
Of distant waves and birds awake,

The animal's coat is fluffy and looks like a sheep's,
The children's playing meet the great fields of wheat,
After cake and lots of sleep,
Sweet dreams come to him like a baby kangaroo leaps,

He rises from his gentle bed,
With thoughts of little animals in his head,
He eats his jam with lots of bread,
Ready for the day ahead.

Leo (13 years, UK)

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Oh, the beauty of spring, It's a wonderful thing.

The lilies so white, and blue birds in flight

And the dark blue clear nights, the stars sparkling so bright;

April to May I realized today, is so new and so different anon.

As I watched the birds fly, up to the heights high

All colors so bright, as gone up in flight to places I could never imagine.

And the sky!  Oh the blue! Does it not speak to you?

With its depth unnumbered, clouds unencumbered

which hardly flies fast before the face of the wind?

The wind! How it flies! Oh the spring wind in guise, never knowing where to,
frisky and snappy, but playful and happy; Its best friend the river, goes along with the mood;
It is inviting in spring, “take a dip!” But oh don’t you dare, for it's cold with a nip!

The newborn year leaps up with glory and might, (who made it).

The epitome of spring in the resurrection brings life to all who will take it.
New hope is found in every small sound made by new lives starting right now.

By X (17 years, USA)

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Spring, spring has come again.
The wind is blowing.
Horses are running through streams and rivers.
The tadpoles are wriggling away.
They hop and jump when ponies neigh.
The tadpoles swim to their mummy and daddy.
The stallions jump over rocks and trees.
The mares tell their foals to brush their hair.

By Cecilia (8 years, UK)

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The spring blossoms are shining, their petals so true, perhaps they are pink, perhaps they are blue.
The breeze is blowing, the lush grass is green.
Whatever would we do without spring?
The butterflies are flapping, the flowers are blooming.
The ducks are quacking, the ducklings are peeping.
The children's laughter comes merrily on the breeze.
The grass stems have dewdrops, the river won't freeze.
The dragonflies look like little diamond bells.
The mist above the streams look like spiderweb spells.
O what would we do without spring?

By Sophia (9 years, UK)

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They dwelt amongst the glimmering, marshy ways,
Searching for primroses, buttercups, hay.
Peals of childish laughter rang through the trees,
Blossoms deposited by muddy reeds.
A den? A shrine? A lush spring feast to share?
My children worked with grubby hands, ensnared,
by the loveliness of that secret place,
in gold, dappled sunshine and willow lace.

(Inspired by William Wordsworth's 'She Dwelt Among The Untrodden Ways')

By Nektaria

(This is just an example to inspire you! I won't be in the competition!)

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Spring has sprung and once again
the air is filled with joy.

Families out enjoying the sun
and first dates , oh so coy.

The seasons changed , once again
pollen makes you cry ,

Flowers spread like carpets
seem to reach the sky.

They swarm up hills like rainbow spots
and that is where I lie .

Up on the hill where you were lost
another year gone by.

Lucy (13 years , UK)