Eisteddfod 2009 The English Competitions 1. Write a Poem 2. Perform a Poem (Y9 Perform extract from Shakespeare) 3. (Year 7 only) Handwriting Competition
1. Write a Poem This year, the topic for the Poetry writing competition is:- Family and Friends Rules Stay focused on writing about the given topic Shape your writing into a format on the page suited to a poem Your poem should have a minimum of 8 lines, and a maximum of 30 lines. Lines may be organised into a number of stanzas, or organised as lines without a break Your poem does not have to rhyme, but may do if you wish. You should aim to have some kind of rhythm within the lines of your poem Your poem must be written on A4 paper, can be handwritten or typed. You must be sure to add a pseudonym (false name) to your poems so that the competition can be judged fairly. Also, write your tutor group.
2. Perform a Poem The topic for poetry performance also follows the theme of:- Rules Family and Friends From a selection of FOUR given poems, you will be allowed to choose ONE poem for your performance You must memorise your chosen poem; rehearse it so that it is clearly spoken and given lively expression. Each person will perform a poem to the English group From each English group, one person will be chosen to perform at the Eisteddfod, plus one person in reserve.
Year 7: Selection of Poems 1. Laurie And Dorrie - by Kit Wright The first thing that you ll notice if You meet my Uncle Laurie Is how, whatever else he does, He can t stop saying sorry. He springs from bed at 5 a.m. As birds begin to waken, Cries, No offence intended, lads Likewise, I hope none taken! This drives his wife, my Auntie Dorrie, Mad. Its not surprising She grabs him by the throat and screeches, Stop apologising! My uncle, who s a little deaf, Says, Sorry? Sorry? Sorry, Dorrie? For goodness sake, Aunt Dorrie screams, Stop saying sorry, Laurie! Sorry dear? Stop saying what? SORRY! - Laurie s shaken. No need to be, my dear, he says, For no offence is taken. Likewise, I m sure that there was none Intended on your part. Dear Lord, Aunt Dorrie breathes, what can I do, where do I start? Then, Oh, I see, says Uncle L You mean, stop saying sorry! I m sorry to have caused offence Oops! Er. Sorry, Dorrie!
Year 7: Selection of Poems 2. My Dad, Your Dad - by Kit Wright My dad s fatter than your dad, Yes, my dad s fatter than yours: If he eats any more, he won t fit in the house, He ll have to live out of doors. Yes, but my dad s balder than your dad, My dad s balder, Ok, He s only got two hairs left on his head And both are turning grey. Ah, but my dad s thicker than your dad, My dad s thicker, all right. He has to look at his watch to see If its noon or the middle of night. Yes, but my dad s more boring than your dad If he ever starts counting sheep When he can t get to sleep at night, he finds It s the sheep that go to sleep. But my dad doesn t mind your dad. Mine quite likes yours, too. I suppose they don t always think much of US! That s true, I suppose, that s true.
Year 7: Selection of Poems 3. Daddy Fell Into The Pond by Alfred Noyes Everyone grumbled. The sky was grey. We had nothing to do and nothing to say. We were nearing the end of a dismal day. And there seemed to be nothing beyond. THEN. Daddy fell into the pond! And everyone s face grew merry and bright, And Timothy danced for sheer delight. Give me the camera, quick, oh, quick! He s crawling out of the duckweed! CLICK! Then the gardener suddenly slapped his knee, And doubled up, shaking silently, And the ducks all quacked as if they were daft, And it sounded as if the old drake laughed. Oh, there wasn t a thing that didn t respond WHEN. Daddy fell into the pond!
Year 7: Selection of Poems 4. A Moment of Respect by Edwin Brock Two things I remember about my grandfather: His threadbare trousers, and the way he adjusted His half hunter watch two minutes every day. When I asked him why he needed to know the time so Exactly, he said a business man could lose a fortune By being two minutes late for an appointment. When he died he left two meerschaum pipes And a golden sovereign on a chain. Somebody Threw the meerschaum pipes away, and There was an argument about the sovereign. On the day of his burial, the church clock chimed As he was lowered down into the clay, and all The family advanced their watches by two minutes.
3. Year 7 Handwriting Competition Rules Your handwriting must be presented on LINED A4 paper Write EIGHT lines of poetry from your chosen Eisteddfod poem in clear, legible, joined-up handwriting. Don t forget to write the title and author of the poem and underline titles with a straight line. Write a pseudonym (false name) to identify your work, plus your tutor group.
Year 8 Selection of Poems Year 8 - Perform a Poem 1. My Hero by Willis Hall My dad s as brave as a dad can be, I rate him Number One. He s not afraid of the dead of night, Or anything under the sun. He s not afraid of a late night film, Full of horrors on the telly, And is he afraid of skeletons? Not Dad, not on your Nelly! He s not afraid of meeting ghosts, He d even smile and greet em, And things that scare most dads the most, My dad could just defeat em. He s not afraid of vampires, Or a wolf-man come to get him. If Frankenstein s monster knocked on our door, He wouldn t let that upset him. My dad s as brave as a dad can be, And he s always ready to prove it. So why, when a spider s in the bath, Does Mum have to come and remove it?
Year 8 Every Sunday afternoon She visits us for tea And weighs-in somewhere between A rhino and a flea (But closer to the rhino!) Aunt Flo tucks into doughnuts Eats fruit cake by the tin. Her stomach makes strange noises Just like my rude friend, Flynn. (Sounds more like a goat really!) Then after tea she heads for The best chair in the room And crashes on the cushions With one resounding boom. (You d think a door had slammed!) Flo sits on knitting needles And snaps them with a crack. She squashes dolls and jigsaws Behind her massive back (And she doesn t feel a thing!) 2. Big Aunt Flo by Wes Magee But Aunt Flo learned a lesson, There s no doubt about that, Last Sunday when she grabbed the chair And sat down on our cat. (Big Tom, a cat with a temper!) The beast let out a wild yell And dug his claws in deep. Poor Flo clutched her huge behind And gave a mighty leap. (She almost reached the ceiling!) So now at Sunday teatime Jam doughnuts going spare, Dad winks, and asks where Flo is While Tom sleeps on that chair. (And he s purring, the devil!)
Year 8 3. The Sundial by Gillian Clarke Owain was ill today. In the night He was delirious, shouting of lions In the sleepless heat. Today, dry And pale, he took a paper circle, Laid it on the grass which held it With curling fingers. In the still Centre he pushed the broken bean Stick, gathering twelve fragments Of stone, placed them at measured Distances. Then he crouched, slightly Tembling with fever, calculating The mathematics of sunshine. The wave of fever taught silence And immobility for the first time. Here, in his enforced rest, he found Deliberation, and the slow finger Of light, quieter than night lions, More worthy of his concentration. All day he told the time to me. All day we felt and watched the sun Caged in its white diurnal heat, Pointing at us with its black stick. He looked up, his eyes dark, Intelligently adult as though
Year 8 4. Farm Child - by R S Thomas Look at this village boy, his head is stuffed With all the nests he knows, his pockets with flowers, Snail shells and bits of glass, the fruit of hours Spent in the fields by thorn and thistle tuft. Look at his eyes, see the harebell hiding there; Mark how the sun has freckled his smooth face Like a finch s egg under that bush of hair That dares the wind, and in the mixen now Notice his poise; from such unconscious grace Earth breeds and beckons to the stubborn plough.
Year 9 From Macbeth - Act 5: Scene 5 ONE Macbeth: The queen is dead? She should have died hereafter; There would have been a time for such a word. Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle, Life s but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury Signifying nothing
Year 9 From Macbeth - Act 4: Scene 1 TWO Macbeth: I conjure you by that which you profess, Howe er you come to know it, answer me. Though you untie the winds and let them fight Against the churches, though the yeasty waves Confound and swallow navigation up, Though bladed corn be lodged and trees blown down, Though castles topple on their warders heads, Though palaces and pyramids do slope Their heads to their foundations, though the treasure Of nature s germen tumble altogether Even till destruction sicken: answer me To what I ask you
Year 9 - From Macbeth Act 4: Scene 1 THREE The Witches: Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble. Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake: Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder s fork, and blind worm s sting, Lizard s leg, and howlet s wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth, boil and bubble. Double, double, toil and trouble, Fire burn and cauldron bubble
Year 9 From Macbeth Act 1 Scene 5 FOUR Lady Macbeth: O never Shall sun that morrow see. Your face, my thane, is as a book where men May read strange matters. To beguile the time, Look like the time, bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue; look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it. He that s coming Must be provided for, and you shall put This night s great business into my dispatch, Which shall, to all our nights and days to come, Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.