Kennings by local young people
To support KRYT, Audacious have worked with ArtfulScribe to commission Susmita Bhattacharya to create a digital resource package, teaching students how to write poetry about Mayflower 400 exploring themes of:
Self-identity.
Identity of Southampton.
Relationships with the sea.
Journeys & migrations.
To celebrate people of the world.
Southampton as a gateway to the world.
Kennings
Kennings
A Norse form of compact noun that can result in memorable imagery to contain in a poem.
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Plane
The steel eagle flaps with
The albatross wings
Shining at the metal glasses
Like a disc of fire
Flying through the fluffy cotton
And reaching the destination
Of the concrete land.
– Neelesh, aged 10
Helicopter
A giant dragonfly
having rotating wings
The ringmaster sitting on its tummy
Covering his head with a metal hat.
Resting in a circular nest
Flying in the blue blanket.
Magic wand to control the direction
A clock in the front with one hand
A talking tower which tells the dragonfly
When to rest or when to go in the sky.
– Arsh, Year 4,
Kenning
The silver snake surges
Through concrete jungles;
The noble steed of commuters everywhere
Carrying us to serendipity or misfortune
To grief or joy.
In split seconds we glimpse lives through closed windows
We see everything in the flash
Of a moment.
Deadly daggers begin to fall from the clouds
Slowly
Then all at once
Window battering, metal rupturing knives
Stabbing relentlessly
Trying to puncture thick metal skin.
A gaping mouth of oblivion
Appears on the horizon
Liberation from the attack of the clouds.
We surge towards its sinister grin
And are carried into the darkness of the tunnel
The storm already a distant memory
As our train surges forward.
– Isobel, aged 15
The Ancient Cart
Down the metal road,
Through the green escape
Rushing down a guiding path
The ancient cart chugs a stream of white
Heading towards brick triangles
Tombs of mighty pharaohs
Man-made clouds escape the metal
Masterpiece.
Through dark hallways,
Berries and fumes on both sides
On the steam roller
Bringing adventure closer.
– Isabella
Plane
The fuelled angel flies
Through the cloudy road. It flies very high
On the sky.
It passes the night shiner.
The night shiner stares. We reach our
New home.
– Diptanshu
The ice journey
The sea rider glides
Down the glacier path
Wave-spit slashing at
My furless pelt.
Sky flares darken
As the wave-rippler
Calls it song of the world end
Its song of flareless shadow.
– Naomi, 11
Plane
The iron eagle flapped its wings,
Took off and glided to its destination.
Around the mountains, over the trees,
The sky traveller disturbed the staring stars.
Once arrived, it can take a rest in its nest.
– Maxime
Kenning
A winged terror soared
Through the velveteen banket
Speckled with night twinkles
Filled with legend makers
Leading the way for the monster of the flames.
To the iridescent dancers
In pinks and greens
The clouds of colour that swirl like the flames.
– Katie, aged 13
Kenning
My land rocker sways and rumbles playfully
Along the rattling silver road
Giants breath belching from the emerald funnel
Tickling tangles teasing playfully from beyond my sky glass
While rumbling crags look sternly on.
The segmented snake swings round corners, swerving here and there
The dragons heart pumping the land rocket onwards
On a madcap journey to a magic land.
– Libby
Kenning
My wind floater soars through the sea of air.
Past the water cushions, past the night light and the sky torch
The metal bird takes me to a new world. The sky riders fly against the
Cloud mover and they lead me
To my new adventure.
– Amelia, aged 13
Car
The sofa on wheels
Running on black carpet
Washing windows with rain flappers
Running with energy drink of vehicle
Excited guests sit on soft sofa
And baby’s bed in the middle.
The guests are safely tied to sofa
Magical talking planner shows the way.
– Arsh, Year 4
Kenning
I’m in my floating wonder,
Off to explore the
land of the unknown,
the place that’s waiting for me.
Adventures are calling,
While the globe of light shines,
Going up to the ceiling of the world
Across the bird’s path lines.
Candyfloss pillows floating by
How long will all these
Beautiful things really last?
The cloud ripplers gentle breeze
Makes me venture on
Off to a miracle place,
A place where I belong…
– Shanisha, aged 11
Kenning
My ocean flyer skips,
Through the fishes’ home,
A giant’s blanket flapping in the wind.
My sea steed takes me
To snow galore.
The lantern in the sky guides my wave dancer
Over the whale road,
Towards the Land of Lights,
And the iridescent paths to the world’s ceiling.
– Eleanor, aged 11
Kenning
Our floating carriage
Bobs forward endlessly
Buffeted across the land of stars.
We are explorers of the endless horizon
Bubble basket swooping high
Its base scraping on the tops of
Rocky sky scrapers
We are warriors
Fighting a losing battle
A ghost breath traps us in
Nets of icy lace
Helpless prey
Slaves to the sail slayer.
We chase the flaming lantern
Columbus colonising the ocean
Of wings
To wait for the flaming lantern
To once again fight against
Our rolling funeral shroud.
– Katie, aged 16
Journey to Atlantis
Standing with my heart’s guide
With water maidens at my side.
The wind catcher moves as fast
As we float away from my home’s past.
Searching for the jungle of lost
With ocean’s money as the cost
Souls’ windows gleaming bright
As we venture into the lonely night
My restless drum will always beat
With salty tears at my feet.
And when my voyage comes to end
I’ll be greeted by an old friend.
– Sophie, aged 12
Kenning
The sky flier glides through
White piles of foam. My giant
Metal bird flies through
The golden sky dancers.
My plane dashes
Along the birds’ path towards
My new, wild adventure.
– Sofia, aged 11
Kenning
An everyday path which you can take
Is the easy flowing concrete stream
It is a level above
The clay bed reserved for me bustling metal fish
The small banks at the stream’s edges
Dip and rise like a snake over rocks.
Twists and turns mark every corner
Like a slow Jack-in-the-box
We small tadpoles weave in amongst each other
With the audacity of long distance kin,
At times we await by the movement
Commanding beacon, we wait for the time
When we cross the solid black bed.
– Isobel, aged 15
The King in his Litter
The king in his crate
A coffin for the living
Carried by lesser men.
The eye in the sky
Casting its burning glare
Cooking the mortals below
But they still carry
Dutiful though scorched
Those lesser men
And the crowned sitter sits
Safe from that flaming eye
In his box of riches.
– Louise, aged 16
