Write away

Our readers have often asked for a page in the magazine where they can send their poems, stories and pictures, and we do feature these every month in our Over to you pages.

But now we have put together a special page on our website for AQUILA readers to post their creative writing and send in their drawings and photographs.

If you would like your work to feature, or just want to share a poem you love, email your contribution to us, putting Write away in the subject box.

AQUILA publishes the material sent in good faith, but cannot vouch for the originality of submissions. Readers who are sending work by other authors should credit their source.

Click here to send your work as an attachment. Ask an adult for help with this the first time you do it. Please include your full name, age and full address, otherwise we cannot use your work. We will only publish your name and age.

Ian the Cat
By Giselle, aged 9

A garden
By Alexander, age 9

YOUR POEMS AND STORIES

A Day in the Life of Red Dog

I woke up in the morning and was hungry so, as usual, I barked as loud as I could until Jack came. Jack gave me a big smile and my breakfast. It was yummy. I loved the sweet taste of the meaty chunks and it smelled so nice I could lick it out of the toilet.

Afterwards, we were going to go to the park but then I saw the neighbour’s cat. He was ginger coated with very mischievous green eyes and had a scar leading from his eye to his cheek which I gave to him. I was going to catch that cat and give him another scar. So I decided to hide in the bushes until he walked past me. I saw him walking unaware that I was in the bush and then I leapt at him trying to catch him. I did not get him because he ran up a tree and I could not chase him because I was too heavy to climb up the tree. I dragged myself into the house ashamed that I could not catch that stupid scaredy-cat. Suddenly Jack grabbed me and took me outside to go to the park.

We arrived but it was so hot that all I could do was drool so I found a puddle and rolled in it to keep me nice and cool. I saw some other dogs and I decided to go and play with them. They were very friendly. Jack chatted to some of his friends and played with them while I was chasing after the dogs. However, I fell in to a big patch of mud and Jack was very upset with me because I was dirty so we had to go home. That only meant one thing, a dog’s worst nightmare, a bath!
I do not like having baths; they are so annoying and uncomfortable. It is scary whenever I have a bath because I might die by drowning or even worse I could get soap in my eyes. On the bright side I always get my favourite dog food treat “R.A.W BARF.” I just love it. I was nervous about having a bath but it had to be done. First he ran the bath. Then he took me upstairs. He put me in. SPLASH! At first I was scared to death but then it became fun. I began to paddle around the tub and splashed Jack with so much water that he was soaking wet. After I had a bath I was feeling sleepy so Jack feed me my “R.A.W BARF” then I went to bed.

From James Mwendwa

Dear Aquila
I had a lot of fun in the snow. Me and my brothers, Toren and Oakley enjoyed sledging. I hope you like my poem. It’s about our garden when it snows. We’ve got quite a big garden. It’s got two apple trees and two damson trees. I’ve also got a rabbit that lives in the garden, and a giant African land snail (but she isn’t giant yet!). Me and my brothers share two fish. Finally, I’d like to recommend the Harry Potter books and The Hobbit to children age 8-13.

Winter
The robin looks like a berry within the new fallen snow.
The rabbit frolics joyfully in the snow as if nothing could halt her happiness.
The snow is like a fresh sheet of cotton wool over our garden.
The wood pigeons strut about as if they’re looking for something they have lost.
The apple tree looks as if it is covered in bright white blossom.
The snowman stands proudly in the middle of the garden like a big snow giant.
The sky looks white as the snow itself.

From Eden Sedman, age 9

Dear Aquila,
Hello my name is Clemency and I am a young poet. I am eleven and one of my ambitions is to be a writer.
I have been writing poems for myself for two or three years and it only just occurred to me to try and get one published in a magazine. This is one of which I am especially proud; it is based on ‘Travel’ by Robert Louis Stevenson.

Travel

I should like to rise and go
to where the Taj Mahal will show
and where a colourful skirt of litter lie
To watch the legs of passers by.
Where the tuk-tuks rumble along
producing their disjointed growling song

Where the regal Coliseum standing tall
through many centuries, she will not fall.
To where Roman emperors lie
forever looking at the sky
Friends Romans country-men lend me your ears,
A forgotten memory, an echo, a sound, the clash of spears

To where the Eiffel Tower stands
looking over bustling foreign land.
Where the Seine writhes through
connecting places, me to you.
To where the bread shops huddle
avoiding the splash of a frequent puddle

Where the Sphinx projects a mystery,
the secret of Egyptian history.
Where the pyramid point reaches its peak
protecting words people no longer speak.
Where sand stretches toward the sky.
Where sun set after sunset appear then die

Where the Empire State Building looms
its peak in clean air its base breathing fumes.
To where Liberty looks at all,
only she knows what fate we ill befall.
To where immigration haunts our minds,
we tied their hand but we also broke their binds

There I'll come when I'm a lady,
when all is dark, all is shady.
I'll appear when I am no longer alone
I'll come back to claim my throne,
to watch memories flicker past
and die in the clouded dirty glass.

From Clemency Connolly Linden

Dear Aquila
This winter there has been a lot of snow where I lived so I decided to write a poem about it:

Glinting, gleaming in air,
Pirouetting without a care.
Landing softly on the ground
Making not the slightest sound.
The ghost-pale snow with paw prints in it,
Is becoming deeper by the minute!

Also, I’d like to say ‘Hi’ to my pen friend Clara. Please could you send me your address?

From Tilly Melechi

Stolen Freedom
Part 1
India, July 1993

Rajah padded through the tall, swaying grass, his pink paws muffling any sound he made. Ahead, his mother moved silently; he could only glimpse her almost invisible pelt.
    A twig snapped beneath him and he jumped, rolling backwards. Swiftly, his mother turned on him, her brilliant green eyes angry. He mewed an apology, and dipped his head. His mother swung her mighty head round, indicating that they should continue.
    They threaded their way through the grass until Rajah became increasingly bored. He didn’t know what they were looking for, except that it was food. He was hungry, and whenever he was hungry they would go for long walks, the same as they were now. His mother would stop him at some point, her massive paws placed in front of him. Then she would disappear, though never for long. He would not be scared, as she always returned with food, which made his stomach rumble. He had not been hungry yet. He did not know the wariness his mother felt whenever she hunted; there was less prey, every year. She had known tigers, driven so much by hunger, who had attacked the humans’ camp for food. They rarely came back.
    His mother halted. He almost walked into her leg but stopped himself just in time. They crept forwards, step by tiny step, before stopping once again. Quite abruptly the grass ended, and Rajah could see a wide plain of shorter grass, with a few scattered trees and scrub. Strange animals with brown hides and four long, feeble-looking legs were cropping the vegetation. Rajah’s mouth flooded with saliva at the delicious scent. He made to go forwards but his mother fixed him with a stare that said: You stay here. Watch. He looked back at her and lay down. She turned her attention back to the prey.
    For a couple of minutes they didn’t move. They didn’t blink or twitch. You could hardly hear them breathe. Then, with a movement that was as swift as lightning, as smooth as silk and as silent as ---- the dead of night, his mother lunged at the nearest animal. It was a small and weak specimen, and as the powerful tiger came flying towards it, it turned anxiously, squealing with terror, its eyes wide with fright. Muscles flexing, the tiger bounded after it as the herd dispersed, vanishing in mere seconds into the trees. Rajah looked after them, surprised. The animals that he had considered feeble must in fact have had a great amount of strength as their legs had moved almost as quickly as his mother had done. Rajah now knew that you could not underestimate any creature.
    However it had not been quick enough for the young fawn. In one fluid motion Rajah’s mother broke the sika-deer’s neck. Rajah leapt to his feet, ready to dash to his mother’s side and start the meal. Before he had gone anywhere, though, something strong had grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. He yelped in distress, calling for his mother. She looked up at his call for help, and now it was her turn to look scared. She bounded across the field towards them; half way to her son’s side there was a harsh ‘crack’ that sent the birds flying from the trees, the beetles curling into their shells and caused Rajah’s ears to ring alarmingly. He wriggled in his captor’s grip, his stare fixed on his mother, who, almost in slow motion, fell to the ground, her amber and dark black coat beginning to stain red. Her eyes, glazed, were fixed on the horizon.
    Something stabbed into Rajah’s side and it made his head feel fuzzy, and the world blur. He fell to the ground, every stone and clump of earth prickling his skin. Drunkenly, he lurched over to his mother’s side, and huddled beside her cold fur. He listened for the reassuring ‘thump’ ‘thump’ ‘thump’ that he had fallen asleep to so many times before.
    But he heard nothing.
    And then there was nothing.
    Only blackness.

From Alice Guillaume

Winter

Winter is great because of the snow
And dreams of Santa singing "Ho, Ho, Ho!"
Robins flitting from tree to tree
Kids sitting at the fireplace drinking tea.

Sitting inside all cosy and warm
Snow covered trees with berries and thorns
Frozen ponds and ice-cold lakes
Sitting in chairs eating warm cakes.

Extremely thick mists and insanely big fogs
Flames leaping and dancing on the burning logs
With a cup of hot cocoa and a book on my lap
I settle down in a chair and take a nice, long nap.

From Iqbal Aniq

Tooth Fairy

Flutters everywhere.
As sweet as a pear.
Sparkles like star.
Travels miles far.
A stunning light.
So attractive and bright.
As kind as mother Mary.
The little tooth fairy.
Take my tooth.
With a ping pong poof!

♦♦♦

This is a poem I wrote that has an important message.
It shows what copying COULD do.
This is a bit dramatic BUT important.

Copy Cat

I saw someone kill a man.
I saw someone crash a van.
I saw someone mess with a knife.
I saw someone risk their life.
I saw someone steal money.
I saw someone be cruel to a bunny.
I saw someone do a hit and run.
I saw someone terrorize a mum.
I saw someone knock over a shelf.
I saw someone kill himself
I copied them.

♦♦♦

This has a very important message. Don't judge a book by its cover or things like what's described in the poem can happen.

The Inside Counts

Kerry went to the cattery one day,
To buy a pretty cat for a small pay.
The cat had to be stunning and lean,
She didn’t care about the personality inside and unseen.
Carelessly she entered section B,
Where the two remaining cats were munching tea.
One was elegant as she munched away,
The other looked like it hadn’t washed for many days.
Instantly she bought the pretty cat,
Sweeping it of its paws from where it sat.
After she paid she shot down the street,
Not even stopping for some tasty sweet!
At home she smiled with incredible glee,
Excitedly she yelped, “Last pretty cat for me!”
Little did girl Kerry know,
Inside that cat’s heart was a burning fire with a strong glow.
That night there was an unexpected attack,
Who from? A little pussycat.
All Kerry saw was a blur of lights,
And felt a sudden rush of fright.

Regret soared through Kerry’s vein,
Happiness vanishing instead lots of pain.
Never should she have got that creature,
The kitty cat with amazing features.

From Anna Walters

Dear Aquila
I am writing a book called 'Staring at the Sun'.
It's about a place where there are lots of worlds, and you get to them through a portal. I'm aiming that the story will have lots of elements: action, love, corruption, communism, anger, revenge, hatred, loss and other things that I don't think people talk about as much as they should.
The book will be told in first person, but switches through chapters.

Here is a list of the characters and two extracts:

Staring at the Sun
The Romano Family
Enin Romano
At seventeen, Enin is the eldest in the Romano family and was entrusted their guardian in Junose (The Sixth World), when his mother died, and his father fell ill*. Enin then disappeared in the second world, from a performance on the streets of Caradella.

Garcia Romano
The joker of the rebels, Garcia can be bossy but is also a really loyal friend. Garcia's parents have both died – her mother at the birth of her younger sister, Mina, and her father when she was ten. Garcia is now fifteen and although her first language is Italian, speaks incredibly fluent English. Garcia is able to control the element of earth, and is drawn to nature.

Alexis Romano
Thirteen years old, Isa's twin sister is her exact opposite. Alexis is a quiet but intelligent scholar of music. She plays the flute and can sing opera. Even though Alexis already controls water she also has the equivalent of hypnotism – her playing or singing can send people to sleep for hours on end (not because it's boring). Alexis, although only just a teenager has taken her scholarships in art and classical music in Junose.

Isa Romano
At the age of thirteen, Isa controls the element of fire, and her personality reflects it, a rebellious teenager and fire, with no real rules, not the best combination. But although Isa can be short tempered and violent, she does have an emotional side; deep down she's afraid of what she saw on the night her brother disappeared, a secret she has told no one about, not even her sisters. Isa spends most of her time on her own, or practising her powers. Isa is twins with Alexis. Isa is apprenticed to an enchantress, and is extremely devoted to her work.

Mina Romano
The youngest of the Romano family is a clever and attractive eleven year old, and is extremely fond of animals. Although her power is to control air, she spends a lot of her time with Caria, learning animal tongues and feeding the mammals of the forest. Mina will translate whenever Garcia says something in Italian, which can sometimes get annoying for everyone else, especially as she does it even if it's a simple thing like “si” or “per favore”. Nearly everyone loves Mina for her sweet and timid nature. Mina can summon hurricanes and tornadoes but only ever uses her powers for small things, such as heating up wet clothes and travelling into Caradella unseen.

*Although Enin's father did recover, he died later on a hunting trip when the rebels were caught.

The Nettle family
Roxane Nettle
21, Roxane has no magical powers but makes up for it by being Clasan's (The Third World) best healer. She was well born but disagreed with the mottoes and ideas of the upper class, and ran away to the forest where she found the rebels and Docra, who she later married. Docra died beside the Romano's father at the Battle of Radae.

Imi Nettle
At nine years old, Imi is one of the bravest in the rebels, he understands nearly everything that people say – he can tell if someone's died by the way people’s mouths were pressed together and if the rebels had done something wrong, Imi knew that they spoke in loud voices but then quiet ones. Imi has a very weak power of time freezing, he can stop time for about five minutes, and walk around freely, in this time. Imi is very good friends with Mina, and enjoys playing with her, as they hardly ever fall out.

Docra Nettle
Imi's father and Roxane’s husband was a clever 27 year old. He had the power of telekinesis, and used it a lot, at one point he became slightly mad from the power and had to be put to sleep for a fortnight, when he woke up he was never quite so lively as he was before – some say that he had seen the ghost of death there. Docra was killed in the Battle of Radae after being captured by the Princes' soldiers.

Caria crouched down as a guard walked past, praying that he wouldn't see the crystals of her breath in the cold crisp air. The moonlight spilled on to the Titas River, making it twinkle and shine, the guard turned to look at it, a young voice sighed from under his visor . . . young . . . he was young . . . just a boy! Caria couldn't kill him, not a boy, not a boy the same age as her, not a boy who probably wasn't even trained properly. . . .

Caria's eyes danced over the folds and crinkles of the Titas River, she remembered something, she always did when she came near water, Caria felt a pang of loneliness in her stomach – she didn't belong here and the whole world knew it. However much she tried to forget, she knew . . . she remembered. Suddenly the guard turned in her direction and began walking up to the Hifel bush that she was hiding behind. The guard showed no signs of any emotions, as far as Caria could see through his armour and chain mail. He kept on walking steadily, then he looked down. Caria's eyes grew wide as he knelt down just beside her hiding place – he must know she was there! But how?
“Come on, out you come,” he coaxed, how could he know?
“I know you're there, come on, out!”
No! How could he know?
“Come on Elfbane! Come on!”
“Elfbane?” wondered Caria.
“Elfbane!” stage-whispered the soldier, “Come on!!”

The boy groaned, then began again more quietly “Come on boy, come on . . . I've got food?”. The boy put one of his hands in his pocket and brought what looked like green and yellow muesli out of it. Suddenly the earth beside Caria's foot began to move, it cracked and turned over as a small stoat wriggled its way to the surface. Caria looked at it disbelievingly. “Great!” she thought “Of all the gifts to get, I was able to shape-shift into any animal, and be drawn to animals without even realising. Great! Just great!”

The guard picked up the stoat and murmured a few incoherent words, the stoat climbed on to his shoulder, twittering all the while. Caria groaned, her stomach pains were coming back “not a great time!” she willed to her stomach, “NOT A GOOD TIME!”. The guard, who had started to walk back, turned sharply at the noise, he walked back to where “Elfbane” had been hiding, and peered round the corner . . . only to see a black cat running away through the bushes.

Lazaro was studying a roll of parchment by the fire when Garcia found him, his usually calm eyes frowning and his smiling lips pursed. She walked up to him “What is it?”
“Belle . . . she . . . she's planning on travelling to Caradella,” he faltered, still looking at the letter.
“But! But . . . but what about Gwin and Minx? She's the only one who can help them!”
Lazaro's eyes filled with tears, one leaked out. “I know,” he said.

Garcia sat down beside him and he looked at her, “She will get better,” she told him, Garcia's hand crept to Lazaro's and held tight. Lazaro turned to look at her, his green eyes shimmering with tears. Garcia loved Lazaro's eyes, they seemed to warp and change colour whenever you looked at them. His eyes looked very beautiful now, as he looked at Garcia sadly – very, very beautiful. Garcia didn't know what to do, she knew that Lazaro was trying to hypnotise her, and that she was seconds away from the submissive state that Lazaro's targets reached at different stages, why was he hypnotising her though? His gaze was ebbing away at her.
“No,” she thought, “please no!”

Lazaro's eyes bore into her, “Why? Why. . . .” Everyone knew that Lazaro had feelings for Garcia – he had visited her every night when her father had died, he'd pleaded with the silver prince to have his tent moved beside hers to comfort her when Enin had gone missing and he'd been the one who found and rescued her when she fell down a hunter’s trap.
Garcia knew more than anyone about Lazaro's mysterious past – he'd told her almost all of his secrets in late night talks before returning to his cabin to fletch and sharpen the Princess's arrows and knives. Suddenly Lazaro released his gaze and Garcia fell to the floor, gasping.
“I'm sorry,” he said quietly, “So sorry.” He stood up and walked out of the room. Garcia knelt up, still breathing heavily and looked to the door, then she crouched into a ball and Ivy intertwined her, Garcia did this when she wanted no one to disturb her, “che chesa ora?” she whispered to herself “che chesa ora?”
From Isabel Davies, age 11

The Missing Hen
There once was a little old hen,
Who liked to have a run around now and then.
But when the postman came to deliver the post,
The hen ran off into the coast!

People searched high and low.
They even searched people’s bodies from head to toe!
But there was no sign of the hen,
So they sent off some army men.

The farmer of the hen was very sad.
The Prime Minister thought everyone had gone mad!
But the army men went from town to town.
But all they saw was a jolly clown.

Eventually people gave up.
But right after that the farmer
Found the hen sitting in
The hen hut!

From Madeleine Lyall, age 9