Black History Month
No More Separation by Lilia - KS3 Poet Laureate
Martin Luther King JR,
Was there in the American civil war.
Fighting for the rights of those,
Who weren’t so quite adored.
Enslaved and escaped.
Now conductor of the railroad,
Suddenly, her future was reshaped.
Didn’t give up her seat on the bus.
When by law she should have,
In that moment she changed everything for us.
Stepped up to the baseball pitch.
The only black man there,
But that day something switched.
A writer of the Harlem renaissance,
And a changer of the world.
Everyone together with no more separation.
Equality by Lois - KS4 Poet Laureate
Equality is a word I haven’t heard much lately,
What did I hear?
Acceptance is something we all need;
Whether we know it or not.
But we continue to make judgments on people.
Whether we say it aloud,
Keep it inside,
Or show it on our faces.
But the question is why do we continue to do it?
Demean, tear-down, humiliate.
Is it down to race,
The colour of our skin?
Think of the word Equality.
What does it mean to you?
Equality means acceptance, justice and love.
These words can be our reality.
We could all be equal.
But who says we can’t,
Who defines what the standard is and
Who said the colour of our skin defines us?
We are all human beings
With beating hearts, strong bones and minds of our own.
It doesn’t matter what our race is,
What our gender is,
Or where we are from.
What matters is what we make of ourselves.
Equality begins with you.
Mrs. Dawn by Kyle - KS5 Poet Laureate
We stare through your window with shivering lips,
Steaming your glass as we watch your finest art be staged.
You gently ice each tasty treat,
Knowing, and ready for our drooling teeth.
Your humble bakes turn our child’s heart’s sweet,
You may be clogging our veins with sugar.
But who cares? when every taste neither match nor rhyme
The batch of another each passing time.
Your shop so perfect, our cradle’s paradise,
One only you can let us enter.
Everyday we look forward to tasting your treats
And waiting for the next flavoursome surprise.
Mrs. Dawn, what would happen if all your treats.
All your cookies, cakes and tart-baked sweets
Followed the same order?
Same folded notes from the same dusty folder.
How would your treats taste then?
If every morning you watch through the glass
No chirpy child eager to pass
Your doors and see your new precious art,
Heavens with thousands of flavours to try
All waiting inside for us hungry to buy
Since all those thousands of famous treats
Were no more than two or three.
What then would happen to Mrs. Dawn?
If all the beauties in your shop,
Are all the same, the shelves on top
Of your counter now without a spectrum of flavours.
Where do we go to view your once art?
Where do we spend the fruits of our labours?
Each of your tastes more unique than the last.
If everyone of your pretty treasures were the same
No zip of compassion, no squeeze of devotion, no dust of admiration.
No diverse canvas for our taste buds to play.
Would your humble shop be considered home, Mrs. Dawn?