where may they ‘find my bones’?

'They may only find my bones...'

‘They may only find my bones…’

In August Jean Atkin met some awesome children – here’s two of them with poems more than suitable for the night that’s in it!

Frances, project manager

Two frisky fantastic kids bounded into the Poetry Yurt this afternoon.  They ran round reading lots of poems, and telling me about themselves.  Mum looked in so we took off all together to explore the Gunnera Bog.  Damian and Cheyenne squirmed into the core of the Gunnera, leaving a trail of shrieks.

When they came back to the Yurt they wrote poems about their experience on Logan Poetry Postcards.  Here’s an extract:

‘The leaves feel like sharkskin 

and I feel like Thumbelina’  Cheyenne

‘It’s a world where size goes wrong.

I was in a green tunnel.

They may only find my bones.’     Damian

Later I set off into the Garden, where I read poems to visitors, by the Poet Tree, by the beech hedge (while a sweet baby of 11 months cooed at flowers), by the Millstones and back at the Poetry Yurt…

A Book of Six Leaves
A Book of Six Leaves

I handed out some copies of ‘A Book of Six Leaves’ too, so people can make their own poems as they explore the garden.

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