First Prize


Tree Climbing


As I run down the trail

Light shimmers through the ceiling of leaves.

Wooden pillars surround me,

As intimidating as giants.


Branches like stairs

Create the perfect climbing tree.

As I climb higher and higher

The adrenaline pumps through me.


When I reach the top

I can see throughout the valley.

And as I look down

I see the daunting height.


While I descend,

I see the beautiful lime leaves reflecting the light.

I should be enveloped by fear

But instead by awe.

And my feet finally touch the ground.


Jamie Harris



Second Prize




The cars whipped by,

Racing down the twisting streets,

Skipping past the memories carved into the town.

From past famous poets

Leonard Clark

Harry Beddington

Winifred Foley.

All of whom worshipped mother nature,

Telling the story of the wild green fields,

The swaying trees and jumping bushes.

As I stood on the rough ground,

The sun beating down at me and the wind whispering into my ear,

I saw history

Good and bad,

Old and new,

The Foresters’ connection flowing ever deep,

Twisting through the bendy streets.


Max Weare





Our Forest


Forest accents,

Old elderly smiling away,

Robins flying through the waving trees,

En’t it beautiful,

Sitting in the forest,

Trees waving as if they are saying hi.


Courtney Webber



The Forest of Dean


The trees taller than I have seen,

Roots stronger than they have ever been,

Squeaking squirrels, always being mean.


Bright green leaves, as bright as a lime.

Stumbling off the tree, it took its time.

So long it could have committed a crime.


Dark oak wood,

The independent tree has calmly stood

The bark crumbling away, just as it should.


Time passes. Seasons change.

Our mystic forest will stand for an age.


Poppy Woods



Outside to In


Trees remind me of waves

Brushing through the wind.

The forest is big,

Bright and beautiful

With all creatures

Great and small.


The bugs climbing up the bark

Looking for smelly food.

The look of the bright yellow green leaves

Reminds me of a rainbow

In the air.


The bright blue sky

In the morning

And at night

Just remember to be in bed

By eight or nine…


The monster under my bed

Has gone now

My mum said so

But some nights

I don’t believe her


I can hear strange noises

From under the bed.


Joshua Neville