‘Red is my soul’ is a poetry collection created by a young person (male), aged 12 he wrote during his time with his Independent Visitor.
I struck one last shot,
It may have been the lot,
But time was running out.
My doubt became my strength.
Boof!
As I saw it hit the net
My heart was released.
Victory!
Beneath Mount Caburn,
Nothingness like a diamond
Shivering down my spine.
The wind breezy with the swaying trees,
The Pond of mating frogs,
The Valley of dead sheep
Peaceful in their sea of blood.
This day on Mount Caburn,
Nothing to hear but the thick whistle of the skylark
Dancing with the clouds.
As my heart shattered
Into tiny pieces
I held one last breath.
The clouds in my head
Became the fear.
I was green, I was green
Walking Bramble and Bobbin,
A lifetime feeling
Happy with the animals.
Staring into the intense thin blue air,
No clouds to be seen,
The day time moon
Watching us tiny little dots
Stringed along the path
In Warren Wood,
Privileged.
Feathers on the footpath
Like leopard skin,
Sheep like statues, asleep in the small wood,
Fox near the big house
Blue marked,
Young and independent and on its own.
A first ever badger
Dead in the road,
Our sadness shared.
Fisherman on the Bolney lakes
Breakfasting and unsocial,
And we played football on the Rec,
Singing loudly and laughing
As we drove home.
The sun goes down.
We sit on the bench
Watching how the wind blows.
As the clouds pass,
Not a day goes by
That I don’t miss you
Dark clouds go by.
I look at the names
We have lost.
The ball glides past
Swerving in an out,
I know I can succeed
Four crows above my head,
Nothing to see
But blue sky.
Me as high as a bird of prey,
Swooping in the misty fog,
Flying through the trees,
Nothing to be heard,
Just the whistling
Of the invisible birds.
The spray of blue sea,
The gloomy pebbles,
The wind against my red face,
Looking out into the white stars.
Blue is my melancholy,
Red is my soul,
White is my happiness.
