Mayflower 400 Southampton

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:

Identity of Southampton.

Relationships with the sea. 
Journeys & migrations.
To celebrate people of the world.

Southampton as a gateway to the world. 


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


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, 


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


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


Through dark hallways,

Berries and fumes on both sides

On the steam roller

Bringing adventure closer.

– Isabella 


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


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 


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


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 


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


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


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


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


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


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


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

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