Home - About Us - News & Events - Awards - Culture & Heritage - Lindisfarne Gospels - Projects - Membership - Contacts & Links



Past Winners


2008

THE RIVER TYNE

Two khaki veins of river slither in a trance,

The first bubbles on the Scottish border in a rhythmical lavish dance,

The other sprouts at Alston Moor over shoals of tails and fins,

And the two flow down towards Hexham, merging like Siamese twins.

 

Then, at this point at Warden’s Rock, I, the Tyne am born.

I gingerly, gently crawl along like a new-born baby fawn.

Yet, I am not a deer for long nor any creature of that kind;

A sturdy cobra slices through my blood and my mind.

Reptilian features bombard my soul but I’m an un-noticed eel;

Such a unique fish, no-one knows exactly how I feel.

 

I snake my way through the North-East, as for centuries I’ve done,

I’m present day and night reflecting the moon, the stars, the sun.

And I watch my county form about me, morphed and warped by time

But I’m too big a challenge to mould; I stay, stubborn, the mighty Tyne.

 

I glide under famous bridges but I am not adored.

Instead these steely walkways are praised

And their glory, they selfishly hoard.

None seems to realise what, without the Tyne, these bridges would be,

For not one of them would be even there, if it wasn’t for me.

But sadly, though I may be strong, immortal I am not.

 

Soon, I know, I must die as part of nature’s plot.

I know when I reach Tynemouth, I’ll be unleashed into the sea

And I’ll slowly drown, suffocate softly, the way it was meant to be.

 

 

By Hayley Simpson aged 11 years


2007

KIELDER DAM


Asleep, by night, the creature sighs,

Surrounded by its fringe of pine,

While at its southern face, its mouth

Is fed by silver veins of Tyne.

 

The Lake’s scales glisten in the moonlight,

The wall of stone, a prison door,

Holding its unstoppable fury,

Keeping it in its mighty claw!

 

In Kielder Forest, it’s made its home

Among the spruce and all the pine.

In the mud there is hidden beauty

Where Lake and Forest both entwine.

 

A tower looms, engulfed in mist,

Rising from the Lake’s stone floor.

It is the brain, controlling all;

The Master of that mighty claw.

 

And when the monster is unleashed,

It’s a creature of power, a raging beast,

Speeding down the river street,

Bringing water to the North-East.



by JAMES DILLON
of St. Mary and St. Thomas Aquinas R.C. Primary School