In English this week, we have written poems inspired by what we have learned about the role of carrier pigeons during the World Wars. We found out that the pigeons were used to carry messages due to their homing ability, speed, and the altitude they flew at. The children chose whether to write as the pigeon, or about the pigeon, and tried really hard to imagine the challenges the birds faced as they flew. I’m sure you will agree that their poems are brilliant! Please enjoy reading these examples:
Coal-black eyes glared furiously through the weather-beaten bars,
the pigeon impatiently waiting for his departure.
Waves of claustrophobia filled his sorrowful mind as he remained inside
his cramped prison.
Puffed out chest, poised for flight, he stared anxiously.
Darting eyes glared at soldiers marching, watching, watching.
Release was imminent, vital messages waiting to soar through the war-plagued sky.
Death corrupted the air.
Deftly soaring whilst scanning for a safe foundation,
reflections from coral-blue water shimmering like the heat from a thousand suns filled his vision.
Everlasting vegetation lay beneath him.
Predators howled, ravenous hawks flew in pursuit of prey.
A barrage of bullets slammed into metallic spitfires.
Suddenly, the camouflaged base veered into view.
Twisting, the hero quickly descended, desperate to deliver his message.
The thought of victory filled his mind.
Glory flashing in the hero’s eyes, he skilfully landed on the General’s shoulder,
proudly delivering the enclosed message.
Enclosed in a steel cage,
the feeling of my compartment closing in on me,
it feels very claustrophobic.
I am barely able to breathe.
We finally stop.
My head barely pokes out through the bars.
We are all nosey to see what is going on.
I start to flail about, waiting to be released.
Finally, my cage clicks open.
They take me into the trenches.
It is time to take action, to complete my mission.
A leather bag is cautiously placed onto my back.
Ten b-b gun bullets are inside, along with a vital message
tied to my claws, which I tightly grasp.
It is time.
I take off, soaring through the smoky sky,
barely dodging the bullets from enemy gunfire.
As I avoid death, I zoom over train tracks while a train is passing.
It is fast,
But I am faster.
Pacing anxiously, enclosed within steel bars,
eyes sharp and focused, chest puffed,
ready to start his mission,
with bravery, the soldier pigeon takes flight,
soaring into the war-stricken sky.
Desperately carrying the hidden message
above the screaming, shouting war landscape,
the pigeon is targeted as he swoops through roaring spitfires.
Our heroic warrior must not be hit.
His message MUST be delivered.
Waiting for his next mission,
enclosed in a cramped cage,
the pigeon tensed.
Suddenly, the cage clicked open.
Time for flight!
He soared across the world,
targeting his destination.
Desperately clasping the rope of life,
the warrior swooped in and out of the clouds,
dodging bombs and bullets on his way.
Finally, the fighter glided towards his journey’s end.
Wheeling towards the terminus,
the ground was thrust towards our hero.
As he landed, his precious cargo was safe.
Against all odds, our hero had survived.