The nature walks, the lakes, milky teas cream and jam on your scone, afternoon tea at 2, sheep walking in the field, mills, private schools in the middle of nowhere, cottages, cricket at 4 and church on Sunday  

But now…….. 

Dirty parks, gum on streets, muggings in schools, bad weather, tags on the underground, northern line not working again, kids kicking footballs on the estate, gurdwaras and temples, different people, Camden market that has it all 

By Lauren 

I know a man, an English man His hair is the grass that covers the land.

His ears are a car park for words and languages.

His eyes are the pearly white clouds above.

His nose is a speed bump, one of many.

His lips are soft soil on the English countryside.

His head is the millennium dome 

His veins are the criss-crossing roads of
London.

His arms are great British oaks.

His legs is the clock tower called big Ben.

His tears are the rain on the English streets.  

He is known by everyone all over the land.

He’s the man with the world in the palm of its hand 

By Jean-Luc Daurat 

England is a young child seahing for guidance,Still growing and developing.

England is a travelor of many countries, making new mistakes to learn from on all its journeys.

England is a daisy, to some small yet beautiful but simply a weed in the eyes of others.

England is an unfiished synphory of modern day shakespear looking for its missing note.

England is a rare rose in a field of weeds, its roots growing ever stronger.

England is the head, but can be turned by the neck.

The world an island, and the blindness of us helps us swim.

England is the missing piece to its own puzzle.

Eyes that have sight, but don’t see.

Hands that have feeling but don’t touch.

Ears that hear but don’t listen.

By Tash and Tess    

Patchwork of green fields,

Tea and biscuits in the cottage,

Talk about the local news.

Jigsaw of grey concrete,

Coke and Crack in the estate,

Talk about the war and riots.

Father goes down to the city,

Mother stays home with the housework,

Children to the local school.

Dad goes down to the pub,

Mum stays out till 1,

Kids hit the streets.

A changing country in many ways,

Extremes at each end,

No such thing as a balance.

By Alice D in 7O

Grammer, comma, full stop, fasion, foriegn food.

stop too much, just too much!

The religion of the heven of the world of the cultures. Mixed.

State, chalk, formal words, formal dress, tea!

stop too much, just too much!

The church, the hell of the world of the words.

Mostly of England, and Englishness!

By Alex Brown 7F

There used to be fields, green lush and bright,

But now there are skyscrappers, blocking out the light.

There were butchers and bakers, no supermarkets at all,

Now it’s McDonalds and the shopping mall.

Sheppard’s pie or fish every night,

No Chinese or curry, not even a bite.

The cane was used at school, for children who were bad,

Now teachers would be sued, I can’t say that I’m sad.

Adults dressed all posh, with pipes and bowler hats,

Now it’s all hoodies, and baseball caps.

But things are better about England today,

I don’t care what you say.

 By Alex

He was born from a flash of culture.

He was a new young person until shape took him.

He was a lamb and is now a lion.

He has the soul of a dragon and the face of a youth.

He is a deep red, a soft white and a brilliant blue.

His heart beat rules the streets.                     

He screams out the names of everyone he knows.  

His step is quick, no-one can catch him. 

The pages he writes are dark and light.

He approaches you with a moking smile.

Then lets you enter his house.

He speaks many tongues with a forked tongue.

He reaches out to help you up.

But as he gets closer you slip farther.

His step is quick no-one can catch him.                    

Il vole sur les ailles d’or.

Il touché la lune avec es pieds sur la terre.

Il chant come un aunge.

Il prend les cours denfants.

Il paindre unscene de mort et nuit.

Il fait la pien ala monde.

His step is quick, no-one can catch him. 

PART 2 

He speaks with many tongues.

Languages clash together.

Vatan bête joie.

He dances with many song.

The wind dosnt touch him.

The world protects him.

His forked tongue throws him into disaster

The world comes together in his mouth.

His tongue flutters over words.

He is at a stage between life and death.

One false word will crumble his wall. 

He tosses words carelessly as he goes.

Their direction is unknown.

They land in the sea of mind.

The silk pool of soping blood.

Salt is shaken into the wound.

His step is quick no-one can catch him!

We wake up, 

We’re in London city.

Just cotchin’ in north.

No need to switch we’re in ripple,

Englishness,

What a fake,Got hard ears,

We don’t listen.

We all Bredrens,

In a big black hole,

In a ripple! 

By Suzanna Fairbairns and Alex Brown 7F

England is sun set, nearly ending but not ending yet. Great novel, not yet published but a pile of curling, dusty paper sitting, waiting in the top corner of a shelf.

It’s an adventure not yet told.  England is a dandelion, finding a crack where ever they are. Surviving. Forever. He is a pure white tiger, rare and beautiful, nearly extinct but crammed into a cage, eager and ready to be released onto the world. 

England is a P.A. doing other peoples jobs, running around looking busy. Stopping only for cups of strong coffee. 

England is a slow prom dance. Slow, romantic, steady. It’s something that will never be forgotten.

                By Suzanna Rose Fairbairns 7F  

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