written by you Archives

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

School & Career, Written By You

Good Teachers, Mean Teachers

I am Alice, and I am 10 years old.

My hobby is writing, and I really like English and Spelling, maybe because I find them easy.

I used to have a hamster, Nibbles, but he escaped and we haven’t seen him since. I like animals, very much, but I don’t think I am great with them.

This article is about my school teachers.

School & Career, Written By You

Top to Bottom – Written By You

Rebecca is 9 years old and is due to move to a new school soon. She wrote for us about her fears and her hopes for the big changes coming to her life.

Home, Health & Style, Written By You

It’s Fake! – The Truth About Photoshop

I’m sure you have all seen at least one tabloid cover and thought, ‘I wish I looked like that’ or ‘I wish I could be like that’. Caitie is here to tell you that it’s not real.

Written By You

Cold, rough concrete beneath my burnt yellow hands, ash under my nails. I hold the butt of an already smoked cigarette in my mouth, looking hopeless. Not even the phrase, “Any spare change?” will get anybody to notice me, the old tramp of Brixton, sitting on the side of a busy main road. Every day I get unhelpful comments from young school kids, such as, “The local druggie! Ha, ha, ha…” These don’t make me feel better. It’s not my fault I’m unemployed, homeless and either drunk or high most of the time. Or is it?

People ask me how on earth I find all the money to buy over fifty cans of beer a week and a rather large variety of harmful grasses from drug-dealers. Sometimes I wonder too. I’ve only ever stolen something once. Twice then. OK! I’ve stolen eight times! Where else am I supposed to get money from (not including vulnerable children’s purses)? But, I’ve been thinking… Maybe, just maybe, it would be a slight possibility – just a slight one – that I could consider starting afresh. By ‘afresh’ I mean a new life in which I give up all my addictions, that are slowly rotting my bones, and make lasting friendships, that won’t break. Ever.