Often children’s fascination with history lies not so much in the big events but in the personal, in small lives played out on the big stage.
To encourage children to write historical poetry they need to have been saturated in the history of the period they are studying. They need to know a lot about, for example, the Battle of Hastings before they can write about it in any meaningful way. The best poetry will then come from visiting the site of the battle and looking across the valley, thinking about the quiet morning before the battle begins, the mood in the camps, the battle itself and the aftermath.
Connections are also to be found in historic buildings, in the interplay between past & present.
The castle once heard the thunder of the firing cannons
but now hears the bleeping of foghorns.
The castle once saw great warships coming from the seas
but now sees sailing boats and ferries.
I’ve often been asked by schools to work on location with them, as part of a school trip. On two occasions I was writer in residence at Castle Cornet on Guernsey and was asked to devise a writers’ trail around the castle as a permanent resource.
The Channel Islands were occupied by German troops during World War 11 and many soldiers were stationed in the castle. Their gun emplacements can still be seen there along with the names of wives and girlfriends that they carved above the entrances. Children were asked to empathise with these soldiers and to write letter poems from the carvings.
My darling Urzal,
I am writing to feel warm with your love.
The wind is whipping my face as I write.
In the summer the weather is lovely
and we sunbathe and play cards.
But in Winter, storms sweep in across the sea
and Guernsey seems to attract them.
It is often said of historic buildings that we would know all about them if their walls could talk. At Hammerwood House in West Sussex, children are always impressed by the exploits of other children who once lived in the house and particularly how they used to climb out of their nursery window and onto the roof. From here they would make their way to an open skylight in the kitchen roof and drop pebbles into bowls of food being prepared below. Before writing, children made a list of alternative words for ‘talk’.
If these walls could talk
they would complain
of the children running up and down the hall.
They would gossip
about the maid who works in the kitchen.
They would joke
about the new born baby.
They would grumble
about the harp and the loud music.
They would laugh
about the pebbles in the porridge.
They would confess
that everything in the house they love
(except for the harp).
At Michelham Priory in East Sussex, we toured the house and grounds looking for shapes.
If I were a shape at Michelham Priory
I’d be a rectangular picture frame
surround a famous general’s face.
I’d be an irregular flagstone
walked upon by thousands of monks.
I’d be an arch, wide and proud,
holding up more than my own weight.
I’d be a sphere, a sour but juicy crab apple
ready to fall from a tree.
And again at Michelham, there were observations that wouldn’t have arisen in the classroom
Echoes of monks of long, long ago,
the brink of history, so exciting.
The leaves swayed back and forward
as the plants relaxed
and the wind massaged their stalks.
A thousand-year-old tree,
its hole like a mouth and branches
like arms from a giant awaking after a nap.
Taking children out of the classroom and into an environment where their imagination can be fuelled by what they see, feel and hear just has to be one of the most rewarding experiences for both children and teachers.
Brian Moses
Brian Moses writes poetry and picture books for children. His new poetry book Selfies With Komodos was published by Otter-Barry Books earlier this year and a new collection, On Poetry Street, will be available from Scallywag Press in May 2024. His website is www.brianmoses.co.uk and he blogs about children’s writing at brian-moses.blogspot.com Follow on twitter for daily poetry prompts @moses_brian
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