Download Eisteddfod – 2009 The English Competitions

Eisteddfod – 2009
The English Competitions
1.
2.
3.
Write a Poem
Perform a Poem (Y9 – Perform extract
from Shakespeare)
(Year 7 only) Handwriting Competition
1. Write a Poem
• This year, the topic for the Poetry writing competition is:-
“Family and Friends”
Rules
• Stay focused on writing about the given topic
• Shape your writing into a format on the page suited to a poem
• Your poem should have a minimum of 8 lines, and a maximum of 30
lines. Lines may be organised into a number of stanzas, or
organised as lines without a break
• Your poem does not have to rhyme, but may do if you wish. You
should aim to have some kind of rhythm within the lines of your
poem
• Your poem must be written on A4 paper, can be handwritten or
typed. You must be sure to add a pseudonym (false name) to your
poems so that the competition can be judged fairly. Also, write your
tutor group.
2. Perform a Poem
• The topic for poetry performance also follows the theme of:-
“Family and Friends”
Rules
• From a selection of FOUR given poems, you will be
allowed to choose ONE poem for your performance
• You must memorise your chosen poem; rehearse it so
that it is clearly spoken and given lively expression.
• Each person will perform a poem to the English group
• From each English group, one person will be chosen to
perform at the Eisteddfod, plus one person in reserve.
Year 7: Selection of Poems
1. “Laurie And Dorrie” - by Kit Wright
The first thing that you’ll notice if
You meet my Uncle Laurie
Is how, whatever else he does,
He can’t stop saying sorry.
He springs from bed at 5 a.m.
As birds begin to waken,
Cries, “No offence intended, lads –
Likewise, I hope none taken!”
This drives his wife, my Auntie Dorrie,
Mad. Its not surprising
She grabs him by the throat and screeches,
“Stop apologising!”
My uncle, who’s a little deaf,
Says, “Sorry? Sorry? Sorry, Dorrie?”
“For goodness’ sake,” Aunt Dorrie screams,
“Stop saying sorry, Laurie!”
“Sorry dear? Stop saying what?”
“SORRY!” - Laurie’s shaken.
“No need to be, my dear,” he says,
“For no offence is taken.”
“Likewise, I’m sure that there was none
Intended on your part.”
“Dear Lord,” Aunt Dorrie breathes, “what can
I do, where do I start?”
Then, “Oh, I see, says Uncle L
“You mean, ‘stop saying sorry’!
I’m sorry to have caused offence –
Oops! Er…………. Sorry, Dorrie!”
Year 7: Selection of Poems
2. “My Dad, Your Dad - by Kit Wright
My dad’s fatter than your dad, Yes, my
dad’s fatter than yours:
If he eats any more, he won’t fit in the
house,
He’ll have to live out of doors.
Yes, but my dad’s balder than your dad,
My dad’s balder, Ok,
He’s only got two hairs left on his head
And both are turning grey.
Ah, but my dad’s thicker than your dad,
My dad’s thicker, all right.
He has to look at his watch to see
If its noon or the middle of night.
Yes, but my dad’s more boring than your
dad
If he ever starts counting sheep
When he can’t get to sleep at night, he
finds
It’s the sheep that go to sleep.
But my dad doesn’t mind your dad.
Mine quite likes yours, too.
I suppose they don’t always think much of
US!
That’s true, I suppose, that’s true.
Year 7: Selection of Poems
3. “Daddy Fell Into The Pond” – by Alfred |Noyes
Everyone grumbled. The sky was grey.
We had nothing to do and nothing to say.
We were nearing the end of a dismal day.
And there seemed to be nothing beyond.
THEN ….
Daddy fell into the pond!
And everyone’s face grew merry and
bright,
And Timothy danced for sheer delight.
“Give me the camera, quick, oh, quick!
He’s crawling out of the duckweed!” –
CLICK!
Then the gardener suddenly slapped his
knee,
And doubled up, shaking silently,
And the ducks all quacked as if they were
daft,
And it sounded as if the old drake laughed.
Oh, there wasn’t a thing that didn’t
respond
WHEN ….
Daddy fell into the pond!
Year 7: Selection of Poems
4. “A Moment of Respect” – by Edwin Brock
Two things I remember about my
grandfather:
His threadbare trousers, and the way he
adjusted
His half hunter watch two minutes every
day.
When I asked him why he needed to know
the time so
Exactly, he said a business man could
lose a fortune
By being two minutes late for an
appointment.
When he died he left two meerschaum
pipes
And a golden sovereign on a chain.
Somebody
Threw the meerschaum pipes away, and
There was an argument about the
sovereign.
On the day of his burial, the church clock
chimed
As he was lowered down into the clay, and
all
The family advanced their watches by two
minutes.
3. Year 7 Handwriting Competition
Rules
• Your handwriting must be presented on LINED A4 paper
• Write EIGHT lines of poetry from your chosen Eisteddfod
poem in clear, legible, joined-up handwriting. Don’t
forget to write the title and author of the poem and
underline titles with a straight line.
• Write a pseudonym (false name) to identify your work,
plus your tutor group.
Year 8 – Selection of Poems
Year 8 - Perform a Poem
1. “My Hero” by Willis Hall
My dad’s as brave as a dad can be,
I rate him Number One.
He’s not afraid of the dead of night,
Or anything under the sun.
He’s not afraid of a late night film,
Full of horrors on the telly,
And is he afraid of skeletons?
Not Dad, not on your Nelly!
He’s not afraid of meeting ghosts,
He’d even smile and greet ‘em,
And things that scare most dads the
most,
My dad could just defeat ‘em.
He’s not afraid of vampires,
Or a wolf-man come to get him.
If Frankenstein’s monster knocked on
our door,
He wouldn’t let that upset him.
My dad’s as brave as a dad can be,
And he’s always ready to prove it.
So why, when a spider’s in the bath,
Does Mum have to come and remove
it?
Year 8
2. “Big Aunt Flo” – by Wes Magee
Every Sunday afternoon
She visits us for tea
And weighs-in somewhere between
A rhino and a flea
(But closer to the rhino!)
Aunt Flo tucks into doughnuts
Eats fruit cake by the tin.
Her stomach makes strange noises
Just like my rude friend, Flynn.
(Sounds more like a goat really!)
Then after tea she heads for
The best chair in the room
And crashes on the cushions
With one resounding boom.
(You’d think a door had slammed!)
Flo sits on knitting needles
And snaps them with a crack.
She squashes dolls and jigsaws
Behind her massive back
(And she doesn’t feel a thing!)
But Aunt Flo learned a lesson,
There’s no doubt about that,
Last Sunday when she grabbed the chair
And sat down on our cat.
(Big Tom, a cat with a temper!)
The beast let out a wild yell
And dug his claws in …… deep.
Poor Flo clutched her huge behind
And gave a mighty leap.
(She almost reached the ceiling!)
So now at Sunday teatime
Jam doughnuts going spare,
Dad winks, and asks where Flo is
While Tom sleeps on that chair.
(And he’s purring, the devil!)
Year 8
3. “The Sundial” – by Gillian Clarke
Owain was ill today. In the night
He was delirious, shouting of lions
In the sleepless heat. Today, dry
And pale, he took a paper circle,
Laid it on the grass which held it
With curling fingers. In the still
Centre he pushed the broken bean
Stick, gathering twelve fragments
Of stone, placed them at measured
Distances. Then he crouched, slightly
Tembling with fever, calculating
The mathematics of sunshine.
He looked up, his eyes dark,
Intelligently adult as though
The wave of fever taught silence
And immobility for the first time.
Here, in his enforced rest, he found
Deliberation, and the slow finger
Of light, quieter than night lions,
More worthy of his concentration.
All day he told the time to me.
All day we felt and watched the sun
Caged in its white diurnal heat,
Pointing at us with its black stick.
Year 8
4. “Farm Child” - by R S Thomas
Look at this village boy, his head is stuffed
With all the nests he knows, his pockets with flowers,
Snail shells and bits of glass, the fruit of hours
Spent in the fields by thorn and thistle tuft.
Look at his eyes, see the harebell hiding there;
Mark how the sun has freckled his smooth face
Like a finch’s egg under that bush of hair
That dares the wind, and in the mixen now
Notice his poise; from such unconscious grace
Earth breeds and beckons to the stubborn plough.
Year 9 – From Macbeth - Act 5: Scene 5
ONE
Macbeth:
The queen is dead? She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle,
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing
Year 9
From Macbeth - Act 4: Scene 1
TWO
Macbeth:
I conjure you by that which you profess,
Howe’er you come to know it, answer me.
Though you untie the winds and let them fight
Against the churches, though the yeasty waves
Confound and swallow navigation up,
Though bladed corn be lodged and trees blown down,
Though castles topple on their warders’ heads,
Though palaces and pyramids do slope
Their heads to their foundations, though the treasure
Of nature’s germen tumble altogether
Even till destruction sicken: answer me
To what I ask you
Year 9 - From Macbeth Act 4: Scene 1
THREE
The Witches:
Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.
Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the cauldron boil and bake:
Eye of newt and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder’s fork, and blind worm’s sting,
Lizard’s leg, and howlet’s wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth, boil and bubble.
Double, double, toil and trouble,
Fire burn and cauldron bubble
Year 9 – From Macbeth Act 1 Scene 5
FOUR
Lady Macbeth:
O never
Shall sun that morrow see.
Your face, my thane, is as a book where men
May read strange matters. To beguile the time,
Look like the time, bear welcome in your eye,
Your hand, your tongue; look like the innocent flower,
But be the serpent under it. He that’s coming
Must be provided for, and you shall put
This night’s great business into my dispatch,
Which shall, to all our nights and days to come,
Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.