What did you do on your holidays?

WINNING POEMS

Congratulations to our eight winners who each receive a copy of Are We Nearly There Yet.
Scroll down for the winning entries and the best of the runners up. Well done everyone who entered!

Are We Nearly There Yet?
Holiday poems chosen by Brian Moses.
Read by Stephen Tompkinson and Emma Chambers.
Published on cassette by Macmillan Audio Books.

Stephen Tompkinson is well known for his many screen roles which include Ballykissangel and Drop the Dead Donkey. Emma Chambers is best known for her roles as Alice in The Vicar of Dibley and Honey in Notting Hill

WINNING POEMS

One Of Dad's Tours! by Cally Steadman (aged 14)

We're off to Scotland,
This holiday should be fun.
We'll sit on the beach sunbathing,
Just my brother, dad and mum.

I'm strapped in the seat of our Volvo,
And keep glancing at the time.
Dad got pulled over for speeding,
And now we've got a fine.

All I can see is hills,
From this stuffy car.
Occasionally there's a tree,
I hope camp isn't too far.

3pm and we're still driving,
Rob has gone to sleep.
We're trailing up a lane,
Blimey, it is steep.

Dad took a sharp left,
And turned into a lane.
The rain is hammering down,
I don't want to come here again.

The car has broken down,
And now it's getting late.
Dad's mobile battery has gone,
So we're climbing over a gate.

Mum is getting stressed,
We're lost up on the moors.
Remember to remind me,
Never to go on one of dad's tours!

My Holiday by Matthew Wood (aged 12)

The water blue
clear
tranquil.
The sun hot
beating
down,
the gulls gliding
scavenging
swooping.
The cooling presence of the sea breeze.
The sand as soft as my bed.
The sea is like a blanket warm.
Building sand castles
moats and mounds.
People trying to sell
watches, necklaces, sun glasses.
People around sound
different
strange
for I'm far from home
in Spain

Wonders of Nature by Ananya Mukherjee (aged 7)

The Grasslands are flat
But hold on to your hat
'cause it is windy

The Rainforest is hot
But it is a very wet spot
But there is no need to frown
'cause everything is growing all around

The Tundra is cold
And white and snowy
And there are no trees on the ground

The Desert is hot and dry
And if you have no water
All you can do is cry

My Vacation Nightmare by Robyn Hunt (aged 13)

I lay on the beach
Gaze up at the sky
I watch purple clouds
Drift lazily by
My attention now turns
Towards the teal water
And I can't imagine
When I have been hotter
I give in to temptation
I carefully stand
Brush from my pink swimsuit
A few grains of sand
I walk to the shoreline
I step in the sea
The water is lovely
Paradise this must be!
I'm swimming with dolphins
This doesn't make sense
Now I've been circled
By a barbed wire fence
The sharks are approaching
Getting ever so near
I think I'm insane
I quiver with fear
I wake with a start
I'm at home in my bed
Visions of my nightmare
Still float in my head
At home for the summer
No traveling for me
What a boring vacation
This summer has been!

Just Another 4th of July by Andrea Racz (aged 11)

every 4th of July
our neighbors get together
and all the babies cry
we go swimming at night
and wait for the fireworks
fireflies are always in sight
sometimes we play volley ball
and we play hide and seek
and last time we hardly had a dessert
which was cookies
it was fireworks time
we each got a stick which glowed
they each smelled like lime
so the dads lit some fireworks
and instead of going up
they went into the other neighbor's yard
they were fed up
they never come to the 4th of July parties
they just watch from their windows
anyway if they did come they would be tardy
so that was the end of the July 4th
I guess I enjoy it very much
but the people just come
so they can munch and munch

France Fiasco by Rebecca Digby (aged 12)

Torrential rain over
City of Love,
Eiffel Tower stands tall.

Sunburn,
Perfect beaches,
Forty Degrees.

Warm see-through sea
Towering waves,
Heat.

Body boarding,
See fishes beneath you,
All having fun.

On beach till late evening,
Delightful barbeques,
Needed sleep.

Mogs attack,
Buzzing you awake,
Itching swells.

Lay-in till noon,
TV in French,
Relax.

Have picnic at lake,
Willow trees round,
Crying to deaf Earth.

Beach yet again,
Hot and fun,
Ice creams for all-
Hooray!

Who's Been Having a Holiday? by Alysha Bhatti (aged 9)

Mummy went to visit
Grandma in Macroom
Dad and I stayed at home
To decorate my room

For windows we chose red
The walls a shady shale
The bathroom was tiled blue
And doors were painted pale

The ceiling was bright orange
With lots of purple dots
Lilies on the borders
And green forget-me-nots

We bought a funky table,
A moon rocket chair
A chest of spacious drawers
For all my underwear

A spell of spending spree,
A groovy chic bed
Instead of squeaky junk
To rest my sleepy head.

A mummy that looked real,
Stood in the corridor,
To guard my secret annexe,
Was a dragon on the door

I got "Daisy" for a shower
The squirty crazy hose
That goes round and round,
And tickles between the toes

Mum was soon back
And hard to impress
The only words she ever said, was
"Tidy up this mess"

Redoing it all certainly,
Was lot of pain and strain
To tell you the truth
I need a holiday again.

After White Settlers Came by Phoebe Gardner (aged 9)

Eagle is my totem
Forehead feather flicks upward
Nose painted white
Joining to the end of my chin
Triangle on my chest pointing downwards
White paint in a feathered line along my arms
Red cloth around my waist
Woven thread with wooden beads
I dance the eagle song

My boomerang comes back to me
My footprints leave tracks in the bush
I walk silently looking for food
I hunt.
Long time ago, as a boy I made a fire
I cooked lizards to eat
I dig for witchetty grubs
I eat 'em raw and cooked
Taste like butter
Now, I eat wombat, it's darker than white fella pig
I taste the blue tongue, it's good tucker
I cook kangaroo
My traditional damper takes seven hours to cook
I walk three hours to find wild honey
My people are hunter-gatherers.

Dreamtime stories belong to us.
One day a fella crossed his tribal border
He was no longer in my country
That fella must be punished
The law says he must have a fish spine spear thrown at him
Hit his leg, don't want him dead
Only way to get it out is to pull it ALL THE WAY THROUGH
If fella runs away, tribal men paint in white
Protect them from the spirits as they cross that border
Chase that bad fella
Spears, they are longer than big black belly snake
Neighbouring tribe don't want them there
That's their land
Once they hear wrong language, they take up spears
Fight a battle, protect their land
Culprit runs like the wind, gets away.

I tell my story
The sky is my spirit home
I still play the didgeridoo
It sings Priepriggie's last song
I can make it laugh and talk.
I use my arms and legs to tell the stories
I dance and dance
Corroboree.
Rock carvings record my history
I paint dot paintings
When my father died I painted around the ceiling
The pictures show a white fella boat
It shows the hut with white fella and black mother
It shows children taken away
The stolen generation
It shows tribal weapons
The eagles' wing span is my boomerang
I paint a rainbow
Memories of my father
Eagle is my totem

RUNNERS UP

No prizes - but well done. Try again next time.

I Went Skiing In My Freezer! by Tom Worsfold (aged 12)

I put my jacket on,
My summer T-shirt gone,
Stomped into my ski boots
And tied my scarf on loose.

I braced the chilly mounds,
I uttered frozen sounds,
My teeth were chattering violently
And I stood there still and silently.

The snow began to gleam,
Made completely out of ice-cream,
The scrummy smell was nice,
As I stared out over the ice.

I darted down the slopes,
My scarf stunk like mum's soaps,
But the smell I liked the most,
Was of tomorrow's Sunday roast.

I slipped and slid like mad,
I looked as bad as Dad,
I skidded over the powder,
The bur of the freezer got louder.

I then I snagged something with my skis,
And behind me was a wave of peas,
I swerved around a lot,
But crashed into a sorbet pot.

The pot then fell down,
My head spun round and round,
I then saw something bad,
That sort of made me sad.

But then I smelt a warm smell,
"Tea time!" I gave a yell.
I hopped out of the winter world,
Screaming like a little girl.

I had an excellent time,
( I do hate this speaking in rhyme!)
But for next year I'm looking forward,
For my vacation in my airing cupboard!

Summer Holidays! (Moving House)
by Rachel Young (aged 11)

Boxes up to the ceiling,
Boxes all over the floor,
Boxes in the kitchen,
Boxes in front of the door!

Finally the day comes,
Everyone's lending a hand,
We're moving into a better house
But not in a different land.

The removals men are here,
With their big green vans,
I'll stay out their way,
Here comes a very strong man!

We're now in our new house,
Boxes all around me,
I want to open one,
But which one shall it be?

Lying in bed in the dark,
It's got to by late at night;
What a busy day,
I can't wait to explore in the light!

Pond by Laura Corsan (aged 12)

As the sun shines,
The distant rays of light hit the ripples.
The plants sway in the breeze,
The breeze, so gentle and cool

There is so much life in this one little pond
Water trickles down the stones
And as the water hits the pond
Bubbles form,
They have so little life
But as one dies another forms

. Whoops, I forgot my sun-tan lotion.
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