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King's College School, Wimbledon

Page history last edited by Michael Hughes 6 years, 2 months ago

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An orb of darkness

lost in the infinite clouds

as our hopes are dashed

Frank Bone





Time, a sonnet


The glory of a Summer’s day is brief,

The leaves all age and fall as time goes on.

And those who witnessed, grow sad with grief,

Until they age and die, their day is done.

And on and on, the cycle ceaseless goes,

Destroy, remake, decay, regrow, renew

Whilst we mere humans pine, without a close

Our eyes fixed to the ground without a view.

Yet love transcends all death and earthly man

It builds, it brews, it conquers all, not tied

To lifetimes but to lines- a poem, the scan

And feel of love eternal, groom and bride.

Against time’s fury, poems alone will stand

To sing of love unchanging, ever grand. 

- Isaac Loose 4M 


Arun Somanathan L5A

"I'm the King of the Castle" - Poem based on Chapter 6 (Kingshaw's P.O.V)


Alone he was in that damp leafy wood,

But fear was no emotion understood,

Kingshaw was one with she who owned the land

So tranquil and at peace he was for once.


The birds he did not tremble at their song

He was a man and what more a man of blood,

So sweet metallic from his thumb did taste.


No shame of whom he left behind she’s dead

to him for staying with pale skinned men.


The creatures of the wood he seemed to know,

The memories of his school began to flow

As Kingshaw held his breath he had forgot,

As memories seemed to be what he had left.


But breathe be calm as freedom is not cheap.

And soon you see that Hooper needs to meet

Out in your forest, ruler of the land,

Kingshaw our god upon the throne he sits,

His rusty, oily throne, the beast of fields,


But Kingshaw held his breath to feel alive.



Witches spells from Macbeth


Round about the cauldron go

To you we are thy common foe,

A lock of hair and fruit to eat,

A warm baked pie of human meat,

Rats grey fur, a cats green eyes

The mucky brown hay of a pigs own sty

These ugly words that we do speak

May poison thee and make thee weak.

Macbeth! Macbeth! why do thee cry?

For us three witches will never lie,

Be gone! Be gone! you must now leave!

But do not worry and do not grieve

For we shall soon return to thee

Just wait the night and you will see!


Macbeth your heart is o so clear,

Your face doth show the depths of fear

You are so young and so so brave

But there is something that you do crave

The golden crown about your head

So murder he who lies in bed.


Beware that whom your heart is theirs.

For her face is of many layers

She is the poison to your blood

So careful not to choke on the cud!


Arun Somanathan L5A


Comments (1)

Michael Hughes said

at 7:17 am on Feb 9, 2015

A fine, thoughtful contribution. Thank you Isaac.

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