Jump! Mag

Written By You

Connection Infection – Poetry by Kids

News scrolling on a bright screen

Eyes scanning down a magazine

Locked up in a daydream

Obsessed by the latest Instagram post I’ve seen

I’m infected with a virus

That I can’t get out of my head

It’s got me going crazy

At least; that’s what the comments said

Hairstyles and creations

‘Urgent’ messages from relations

The latest trends and how to cook

Living life by an electronic book

I’m infected with a bug

That’s connected to my hands

That’s left me solitary

Unware of and blind to the past

We used to talk face to face

Of politics, clothes and space

But then you were replaced

By a cruel-minded interface

My alarm’s a notification

I’m dictated by cold metal parts

My day scheduled on reaching the leader boards

The social media bug has infected my heart

News & Politics, Popular

How to Jump into Politics

Are you interested in politics? Are you not sure?

Recently, we posted an interview with MP Hilary Alexander. where she talked about how she was inspired to get involved in politics and do positive things for people. She also said that if we don’t like the way things are, we have the power to change them. Sometimes, though, as a younger person, it can be a little bit hard to know where to start – especially if you’re under 16 and can’t vote yet. Here are a few things to think about if you want to ‘be the change you want to see’!

Sports

Stories from the Stables Part 2 – Topper. Ouch!

Our Stories from the Stables series from Carolyn Ward continues with a flea-bitten grey with a shocking attitude.

Topper. I swear that pony could scowl.

It was my week to ride him, and I had just hauled him all the way down to the outdoor school and stood him in the middle to check his girth and stirrups. As I reached under to tighten up the girth he turned his head toward me and eyeballed me, then stepped over with his nearside foreleg; and stamped on my left foot.

I hissed a very rude word and frantically pushed him to move him off. My foot sunk into the woodchip surface with his heavy weight crushing it down. By now he was still looking directly at me, so I started punching his shoulder to try and get him to step off. Today’s teacher was a crosspatch I have no fond memories of; if she had found out about it I’d have been bawled out for having my foot in the wrong place or something.

Poetry By You, Written By You