Resources
Children's Poems
My Safe Place
My safe place is on a roof.
I can climb on it.
It is not high.
When I am sad or cross
I climb on it and no-one
Will find me.
Iwona, Y5 Salisbury Primary School, Newham
The Two Azizas
Aziza watches Power Rangers
Every night on the tele.
At night the other Aziza goes
Flying through the sky.
Aziza likes swimming but
She's not very good.
At night the other Aziza
Goes swimming in the ocean with the big fish.
Aziza never goes on holiday
But the other Aziza
Goes to Somalia every weekend.
Aziza Hussein, aged 9, Barlby Primary School, W10
I'm Not Here
I'm not here and I don't exist
There is sunshine and blossoms in my town
But unknown hands steal its smell of summer
And the silk from the sehar.
I'm not here but my soul
Smuggles through every street at night
And sticks a lily on each buttonhole
And plants a tree by every house.
Mujo Mustafic
Magic Box
Our refugees magic box is made of
hearts
shiny stars and half-moon
sparkly light and happy sunshine
and smiles
Open up our refugees magic box
You will find
a house with a cooker
special friends
ring the bell and they will come
birthday balloons and humming birds
chocolate cake and chicken legs
love and care and
an aeroplane to bring you here
You're beautiful
Beautiful!
A class poem by Year 2, Dersingham Primary School, Newham
If I were President
If I were President
the tanks would be playhouses for the kids.
Boxes of candy would fall from the sky.
The mortars would fire balloons.
And the guns would blossom with flowers.
All the world's children
would sleep in a peace unbroken
by alerts or by shouting.
The refugees would return to their villages.
And we would start anew.
Roberto, age 10
Somalia
Somalia was a place
Where people loved and cared for each other.
It was a place of peace where people got on with each other.
We Somalis pray that one day we could go back
To our homes
And rebuild our culture
Bring back the love and care for each other.
We all have our dreams
Our special dreams
And my dream is to go back to my home one day
In Somalia
Because that is the only place I belong.
I pray every day for that one day to come.
A student at Little Ilford School, Newham
Five Senses
I saw a huge scary building.
I saw strange children.
Now I see a friendly building.
Now I see great children.
I heard noisy, scary children.
I heard my teacher talking in a strange language.
Now I hear noisy, friendly children.
Now I hear my teacher talking in a language I can understand.
I tasted Malteasers and I didn't like them.
Now I taste Malteasers and I do like them.
I smelt interesting school dinners.
Now I smell yummy school dinners.
I felt scared of the children.
I felt frightened of the children laughing.
Now I feel brave and not scared of the children.
Now I feel that they are not going to laugh.
Matteo Hindricks, Class 14, Star Primary School, Newham.
Refugee
So I have a new name - refugee.
Strange that a name should take away from me
My past, my personality and hope.
Strange refuge this.
So many seem to share this name - refugee
Yet we share so many differences.
I find no comfort in my new name.
I long to share my past, restore my pride,
To show, I too, in time, will offer more
Than I have borrowed.
For now the comfort that I seek
Resides in the old yet new name
I would choose - friend.
Rubimbo Bungwe, from Zimbabwe, 2002
(First published in 'The Teacher' magazine, Sept/Oct 2002)
How many goodbyes do you know?
There's the kdudavis goodbye
The ta-ta goodbye
the tara goodbye
the sad-to-say-goodbye-to-my-cousin goodbye
the see ya later alligator goodbye
There's the goodbye, good friend, goodbye goodbye
the have fun! goodbye
the laters goodbye
the see you tomorrow goodbye
the au revoir, ciao ciao goodbye
the thank you for your help goodbye
There's the ola! Goodbye
the moko goodbye
the asalam alekhum goodbye
the I'll miss you goodbye
I'll miss you.
Goodbye.
How many goodbyes do you know?
A group poem, Dersingham Infant School, Newham
Sorry...
Sorry that we are here
That we take your time
Sorry
Sorry that we breathe your air
That we walk on your ground
That we stand in your view
Sorry
Yes sorry
Sorry that we look like we do
Sorry that we disturb your rest
You do enough for us already
Sorry that we are not grateful and happy
Not grateful enough
And that my name is not David
Or Catherine
Or May
But Rashed
Holta
And Ardita
Sorry that we sit in your trains and buses
And on your benches in the sun
And sorry that we brought nothing
And the only thing we have is a story
Not even a happy story ...
Poem by a boy from Bosnia