Teen Poetry Winner, Writing Rammy 2023

By Chloe Lannon

In the chambers, your voice does reverberate,

Echoing whispers of love, now dissipating to hate.

In this labyrinth of emotions, lost and forlorn,

Bearing the burden of a heart, so torn.

Eyes that sparkled with joy, now stormy with grief,

Crying silent tears, seeking solace and relief.

Yearning for a love that’s vanished in the blue,

A heartbreak’s melody, sombre and true.

Wings of dreams that soared so high,

Now, wounded by lies, fail to touch the sky.

Petals of hopes, trampled and broken,

Bear testament of words left unspoken.

Yet, remember, heart, strong yet tender,

In the coldest winter hides itself a summer,

Though relentless waves crashed against your shore,

You’re still standing, bruised, yet ready for more.

In shards of despair, blooms the flower of resilience,

In the canvas of night, stars trace their brilliance.

Heartbreak might have left you torn,

But it’s also where compassion is born.

So sing heart, sing your mournful hymn,

In sorrow’s river, learn to swim.

Beneath the weight of your sorrow, don’t bow or break,

Remember, even stars need the dark, to shine and awake.

Thus, heart, though you bleed and ache,

Find compassion within your heartbreak.

Rise, not with vengeance, but with love and grace,

For in the healing of hearts, one finds their place.

Age 8-11 Fiction Winner, Writing Rammy 2023

By Anna Lynas

Always remember that you are absolutely unique. Just like everyone else.’
Margaret Mead


It feels like your tummy is in knots. Everything’s wrong. Your head is racing and can’t stop. If you add shyness into being scared, you end up with someone whose voice is empty and can’t find a friend.


‘Ding-dong!’ rang the bell at BerryWood School. Chitter-chatter filled the corridor, as woodland animals made their way to class. All except me. I had to ask a teacher where my classroom was, but I struggled to find the words. I’m not good at talking to strangers.


When I walked to my desk I could feel a million eyes upon me. I knew they were judging my prickles, probably thinking they looked scary and threatening. All I could do was curl into my ball of prickles and shrink into my seat.


I really wish I hadn’t had to move school, but I didn’t have a choice. I had to move because of these horrible creatures called humans. They had used chainsaws louder than thunder to chop down the homes of my squirrel friends. I have never seen them since.


It’s hard moving to a new place and trying to get new friends, especially if you have prickly spikes like me. Everyone was scared of me. Everyone thought I would hurt them. Everyone, that is, except a small caterpillar called Jack.


He had tiny hairs poking out of his little brown body that looked like spikes, but were as fuzzy as a cat’s fur. When he moved, his body shimmied up and down all in one motion. It was completely unique. But I noticed that other animals sneered and sniggered.


It turned out that Jack also felt like he didn’t fit in. Just like me, he was scared and shy, but I just didn’t know at first.


That’s why when Jack tried to talk to me on my first day, I now realise he must’ve been really brave to use his voice. But, at that moment, I just couldn’t respond. My own mouth was empty of words.


It wasn’t until the next day I realised what Jack had done and what having a friend truly meant. When he tried again to talk to me, his words changed it all. “Your prickles look amazing”, Jack said. I gasped. My prickles? Me? “They do?” I questioned in shock; Jack nodded. That meant everything. No one had ever complimented me on them before. Maybe my prickles weren’t so scary after all. Maybe they just made me unique.


The most amazing part of being Jack’s friend was seeing his transformation. When Jack came out of his cocoon he became a Northern Brown Argus. In fact, he became the rarest butterfly in Scotland. But to me, he was always the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. To me, he was my unique friend, Jack.

And his best friend was prickly, little, unique me, because I’m a hedgehog as friendly as can be.

Adult Poetry Runner Up, Writing Rammy 2023

Rough Castle by Andrew McAuley

For what it was, today it is remarkably peaceful
The breeze smooths the grasses and rustles the trees
Warm summer air rises from the ditches
Something engages the spirit in this place
A gateway for the imagination
Footsteps tracing footsteps.


A bastion of Roman rule
Unsteady north-western frontier
Facing Caledonia, a people
Not to be contained or tamed
Life was not easy for either side
A tough posting when the wind howls
Many leagues from home.


But today it whispers words of comfort
Mounds of earth hide the past
Weathered gateways, ditches
Faint traces of buildings
Give rise with imagination
To the centurion walking the rampart
Eyeing the lilia with trust
Gazing to the hills at a distance
Smoke rising from the barracks
Sounds of relaxation from the bathhouse
The fields rest beyond toil for today
As the sun sinks and the pace slows
At this outpost on the edge.

Tranquil today, 2,000 years on
But hear the ghosts of the Latin tongue
Carried on the breeze
And wonder.

Age 8-11 Fiction Runner Up, Writing Rammy 2023

Striking a Friendship by Emma Clarke

“Before you pack your bags, you’ve a letter to take home”. It was just before home time on a wet Friday afternoon. I was still getting to know my new classmates and was desperate to get home to play my computer. I shoved the letter into my bag already forgetting about it.  

I was just about to hit my top score on “Geo-mite” when mum shouts “Morgan, dinner is ready!” I rush downstairs. It’s pepperoni pizza tonight, my fav. I notice that the letter from school is opened. It’s an invitation to Amelia Kennedys bowling party next week. This is my worst nightmare. I remember having to go to my cousin’s party there when he was turning six. “That’s lovely of Amelia to invite you to her party sweetheart, you’ll have a great time” squeals mum, clearly happy that I’ve been invited to a party at last. “I can’t go” I tell her but before I say why, she tells me that I am and that it’ll be good for me to spend time with some of my new classmates.  

It’s the following week, I’m petrified as I follow mum into the bowling alley. I try hiding my face under my hood but struggle with my ear defenders and shades. My hands are sweating whilst I fiddle with the giftbag. The rattle of the pins is echoing around and I’m trying to focus on my shoes to drown it all out.   

Abbie goes first, selects a pink ball, a perfect fit for her, and hits a strike straight away. She dances back to see her score before sitting next to me. “Well done, you’re really good” I whisper, still looking at my shoes. I see her head peek down and look at me. She smiles, “Thanks! Morgan, isn’t it?” “Yes”, I meekly reply. I’m up next. I stand up, peering down at my shoes as I pick up the same ball Abbie used. I’m hoping it works for me too. “Go Morgan!” I hear from behind and I realise it can only be Abbie. I line the ball up and give it a hard throw, watching as it hurtles down the lane. I hurry to collect another ball to get my turn over but when I turn around someone is in my way. When I hesitantly look up, I see Abbie standing with her hand out and a friendly smile on her face. I shake her hand and give a faint smile. 

Abbie sits with me. She asks lots of questions about what I like and enjoy and before I know it, the party is over and mum has arrived.  

I’m relieved to get back to the quiet car. “Did you have fun honey?” mum asks, “yeah” I reply, while watching out the car window.  

I’m absorbed in my game of “Geo-mite” when mum walks into my room, I hadn’t heard her with my earphones. “There’s a girl called Abbie at the door; she’s asking if you want to play?”