King Edward VI School Students, Morpeth

Missing Lines

This series is based on a workshop called Missing Lines - the lost lines supplied to the students by another workshop at Riverside Care Home in Morpeth.

I Remember, I Remember

By Olivia Sheed, after Thomas Hood’s poem of the same name

I remember, I remember
A bitter night in December
Where a wolf called out to the night

His howls lost to the wind
Which did cry and sing
To cover and hide my fright

The tree trunks became twisted
As I hid and listed
The scars he would leave on my skin

He pounced on my body
Grabbed me while sobbing
And whispered I belonged to him

The Traveller

By Tom Berry, after The Listeners by Walter de la Mare

“Is there anybody there?” said the traveller.
The traveller stood still, wind flapping his coat,
his boots caked with mud, twigs, grass.
No-one replied.

He shouted again,
his voice hoarse and dry.
His beard seemed to quiver at the sound.
No-one replied.

He shouted again.
His backpack held the items for his journey:
with hunched back he carried it, but with pride
he bore it.
No-one replied.

He did not shout again.
He heard the tiny beeps, becoming slower, rarer.
Then they stopped. The man’s journey was over.
The only reply was crying.

Shadow Figure

By John Heywood, after My Shadow by RL Stevenson

Shadow Figure glides down the street.
Hovers below the lamppost.
The dark light flickers,
Once, Twice, Thrice.

Shadow Figure,
Shadow Figure.
Who are you?
Why are you here?
Where did you come from?
And, and, and…
I don’t know.
No-one knows.
Except Shadow Figure.

Watching, Waiting.
What will Shadow Figure do?
Watching, Waiting.
Cloaked in blackness.
Lifeless legs. Cold ground.
Shadow Figure’s worth it.

Skins of ourselves, empty shells.
Our silhouettes.
Our silhouettes.
In the day, inhabited.
In the night, uninhabited.

Shadow Figure floats along the street.
Lingers below the lamppost.
The dark light flickers.
Once, Twice, Thrice.

Without libraries what have we? We have no past and no future. Ray Bradbury, science fiction writer