“Home In Lockdown” by Jack, aged 7

(available to listen to in episode 30)

Everything Stopped!
They closed the schools.
Yey! I can play in the paddling pool.
But people were getting ill
We have to stay home, not sure when till.

The weather’s been bright and clear.
Birds tweeting, I can hear.
Mornings are for school tasks.
How much work left? I ask.
Sulky, grumpy, tired
Mummy teacher you are fired!

Time to play my Switch.
And play on the football pitch.
Helping with potty training is tough.
But haircut and work are the worst stuff.
V.E Day I really liked.
I’m proud that I learned to ride my bike.

Zoom party quizzes are great fun.
Baking cakes for in my tum, yum yum.
Phones are kind of useful at this time.
Talking, messages, FaceTime.
I miss my family the most.
Writing letters to them to post.

I hope I see you all soon.
Hopefully by the end of June.

“There’s A Tiger In My House” by Charlee, aged 7

(available to listen to in episode 30)

There's a tigger tiger in my garden, and he's digging through the ground.
There's a tigger tiger in my bathroom, and he's splashing all around.

There's a tigger tiger in my kitchen, and he's eating all the food!
He's eating up our treat cupboard, and he's in a terrible mood.

There's a tigger tiger in my bedroom, and he's snuggling with my teddies,
he wants to eat my fish, but I really do wish, that he would not eat my fish!

Now he's in the living room, he's scratching at the telly.
He's gone out to the garden wearing my wellies!

But wait a minute....
What has he left, is our house totally ruined? Or just a little mess?
He's left a can of beans, a toilet roll it seems,
and, if he's here forever I will have to clean!

Now we do tiger school, to teach him not to be mean.
He can learn to be tidy and keep my house clean!

There's a tigger tiger in my garden, but he's gardening now!
He's the best tigger tiger you have ever met.
Two years later he's a wonderful pet!
And he sleeps with me in my bed.

“Home In The Heart” by Ananya, aged 7

(available to listen to in episode 39)

Birds soar to the trees,
eager to go home.
Foxes race to their caves,
ready to lay in slumber.
Polar bears prowl to their den,
ready to sleep away.
Beavers crawl to their dam,
ready to rest their weary paws.
Squirrels scurry to their hollow,
ready to dream through the night.
All living things,
keep home in the heart,
and after a long day,
all you want is to go home,
and hit the hay.

“Safe” by Sofia, aged 6

(available to listen to in episode 36)

At my home, it is safe.
I like it here, it is cosy and warm.
I love my mummy, and daddy, and my little brother.
I love my bed and my ubercorn teddy in my bed.
And I love my pillow that I take on holiday.
I feel happy and also a little bit sad,
because I have to stay here for a long time.
I’d like to be outside as well.
Something really weird is happening in my brain right now.
I want to be inside and outside as well at the same time.
Going out right now feels strange.
Everyone is wearing masks and at a distance.
What can I do about it?
I really want to help,
so I have to stay safe in my house.

“How To Be Kind” by Maisie, aged 8

(available to listen to in episode 33)

Justice can be used by everyone.
Understanding everybody is key.
Similarity lives through all of us.
Teamwork makes a dream work.
Ideas of kind manners and freedom are great work.
Controversy will not bring us down.
Equality is our speciality (we are equal to everyone).

“Habitation” by Aadrita, aged 8

(available to listen to in episode 42)

Cozy and snug ,
where you had your first hug,
your mom and dad gave your first kiss.
Full of items to make you smile.
All there with a divine style.
I think it’s time to spill the tea.
Full of memories to cherish,
along the shores of Kern River.
The love it gives is more than ever.
It’s the one and only place under the sun.
The walls of a home
will remain cold until occupied by young and old.
With a beautiful family and a lovely home,
you truly have struck gold.
That is our base where we begin and end each day.
It is our triumph and glory that these walls tell the stories.

“Home” by Clarissa, aged 9

(available to listen to in episode 30)

A light in the dark, when I’m alone,
a safe place to tuck away.
My home is my hiding place; my shell,
where I love and live each day.

Home is the air that I need to breathe,
my only necessity.
It’s the cold drink that I crave and need,
in a desert of worry.

When my saddest thoughts tear me apart,
Home is the place where I heal.
In my wild sea of troubles and conflict,
Home is the peace that I feel.

When friendship bonds break and I feel lost,
being at home is the best.
In a world of anger and struggle,
Home’s where comfort is strongest.

In black times when fear rules my body,
Home is the medal I’ve won.
In the middle of the darkest storm,
clouds part, and home is my sun.

Home will always be my happy place.
When sadness cuts like a knife.
When I’m enveloped in weariness,
thoughts of home bring me to life.

“Home” by Cesca, aged 10

(available to listen to in episode 39)

Old home.
New home.
Big home.
Small home.
Short home.
Tall home.

Home is the strangest thing of all.
It doesn’t matter if it’s big or small,
only if you can call,
a house a home.
That’s all.

Dirty home.
Clean home.
Messy home.
Neat home.
Wooden home.
Brick home.

Home is the strangest thing of all.
It doesn’t matter if it’s big or small,
only if you can call,
a house a home.
That’s all.

Loud home.
Quiet home.
Relaxed home.
Tense home.
Warm home.
Cold home.

Home is the strangest thing of all.
It doesn’t matter if it’s big or small,
only if you can call,
a house a home.
That’s all.

“My Roxy” by Amber, aged 9

(available to listen to in episode 33)

Inside the Intelligent Black, the toy destroyer.
Inside the toy destroyer, the messy bones
Inside the messy bones, the colour blind.
Inside the colour blind, the mischievous eyes.
Inside the mischievous eyes, the faithful heart.
Inside the faithful heart, the rough tongue.
Inside the rough tongue, the American & English type.
Inside the American & English type, the webbed feet.
Inside the webbed feet, the blackberry juice.
Inside the blackberry juice, the Intelligent Black.

“Home In Lockdown” by Azura, aged 10

(available to listen to in episode 36)

The birds tweet, as the new day arrives.
Freshly brewed coffee smells delicious.
The sweet aroma of flapjack still warm from the oven.
The whole family quietly tapping away at computers.
The ping of notifications as messages arrive from my friends.
The howling of the wind, makes me feel lucky to be in here.
My hamster, Cookie, scrabbles away in his cage.
The bright glare of the computer screen makes my face glow.
My tummy rumbling, makes me wonder what's for lunch.
The whole family cramped in one space causes bickering,
frustrated by technology. My mum hushes for silence.

“Grandma’s House” by Amelia, aged 10

(available to listen to in episode 36)

Hidden warmth in plush velvet sofas.
A garden abounding with sweet vivid flowers,
akin to the comfort of a familiar friend.

Memories huddle over every wall.
Adventure awaits as you clamber the winding stairs,
up to the rooftop carrying swirling clouds.

A wealth of cosy rooms for hiding.
Dark burrows create distinctive dens,
guarded by a tiger with the softest purr.
While the laughter of cousins resounds from the nursery.

The razzmatazz red wardrobe is a pocket of style and fashion.
An explosion of colours, shapes and icons.
Grandma owns her own look.

Grandma’s pantry is like no other.
Piled high with Penguin Bars, Quavers and Kit Kats.
A harmony of sweet delights.

You can never feel alone at Grandmas House.
Your head is full of happiness.
Nothing is quite like Grandma.
She’s completely wonderful.

“The Box” by Ava, aged 10

(available to listen to in episode 30)

I will put in a box...
Three intelligent people who are worth more than gold.
One of each of their whispers so I never get scared.
One of their warm fuzzy hugs so I never feel lost.
One of their continuous smiles so I never feel sad.

I will put in a box...
All the places we’ve sat on which made memories I could never forget.
Moments where sadness wasn’t even a thing.
Three seconds where we laughed so much, we couldn't breathe.
The table where family meals were shared.

I would never lose this box, get too old for it or the people who come with it.
I would adorn the box with memories and happiness,
warm whispers that cuddle you with love and care,
love that would never be lost because it will always be there.

The people are my family and the box is my home xxx

“My Amazing Brain” by Kieran, aged 9

(available to listen to in episode 42)

I have Autism, it is not a disease and you cannot catch it so why do you look at me that way?
I miss my Chess Club, it is my life but it is closed now, this pandemic has broken me by taking it away!

I hate this stupid lockdown, I miss the library, I feel so at home there surrounded by the comfort of books.
My brain needs to he learning, why can't people just let me get on with it? I feel so calm when I am learning it just all makes sense unlike all of the chaos outside and all of those looks.

I get irritated by other people, with their silly voices and their germs, they stand so close with their hot breath, it's disgusting. Why are humans so gross out there?
All that hotness in the shops and those annoying people making so much noise, it hurts my ears and my head, stressing me out, then people start to stare.

Why can't I just be left alone, in the peaceful science lab under my bed? Alone with my experiments, lost in a world of scientific possibilities.
Why can't people learn from this pandemic and be more like nature, so calm, without being nasty, without angry noisy shoppers, without bullies!

I have Autism it is not a disease and you cannot catch it so why do people look at me that way!

“My Home Poem” by Steren, aged 10

(available to listen to in episode 42)

I can smell the warm bubbling gravy
sitting in the boat.
The warm mulled wine candle
flickering quietly on the burning fireplace.
I can see my family snuggled
up on the sofa watching a movie,
decorations sprawled out all over the pine covered dresser.
I can taste the gooey left over
Yorkshire pudding as it brings a smile to my face.
I can hear wrapping paper ripping,
and screams of joy,
my mum yelling at the dogs who are eating
our chocolate.
I can feel the prickly tree spines
prickling me as I walk past,
soft cosy blanket
wrapped round my shoulders.

I love my home the smell the feel and most of all
the people.

“Topsy Turvy World” by Poppy, aged 9

(available to listen to in episode 36)

Violets are red. Roses are blue.
Hippopotamuses go mew mew.
The Earth is flat instead of round.
The sun and sky are on the ground.
We work and play when it is night.
Then go to sleep in broad daylight.

“What Is Home?” by Willow, aged 11

(available to listen to in episode 30)

What is home? Where it has the welcome mat.
Is it where you lay your coat or hat?
Is it where you sleep?
Or where it has everything you keep?
What does the word home mean to you?
What is home?, he asks me.
Is it where you have your coffee or tea?
Is it where are your business comes to life?
Or where you talk with your husband or wife?
What is home to you?

What is home to you?, he asks that day,
So I answer then today.
Home is family, is life and care.
Home is fun, home is fun, home is fun and fair.
No one’s home is the same,
and love is the game.
Everyone loves their family - it's the reason I love home.

“Home” by Ayush, aged 11

(available to listen to in episode 33)

Wherever I travel, wherever I go,
Home stays a beacon, wherever I roam.
A safe sanctuary, for travellers weary.
For days so full, yet so dreary.

Running through the jungle, running through the road,
Home stays a fortress, wherever I roam.
The safe four walls around you stand,
as do you all, hand in hand.

Walking through the door,
looking back at the night.
Home stays a safe haven,
no matter the fright.

Laying down in bed, after a long days work,
Home stays a warm hearth, wherever I roam.
Across the globe, around the world,
there ain’t no place like home.

“The View From My Window” by Alfie, aged 11

(available to listen to in episode 33)

My view is the cows in the sun,
horses than run,
fields peaceful and long,
Wassell wood as close as ever,
my brother talking to the neighbour not a care of covid.
Sun seems to always shine these days.
Some days, I feel worried and sad.
Missing my friends.
I feel safe and happy in my house.
I am grateful of my view.

“Dear Flower In My Room” by Aaniyah, aged 12

(available to listen to in episode 36)

Dear Flower In My Room.
You sit in my room staring.
Never saying a word.
I water you and feed you,
yet you still don’t say thank you.
One day I came home from school,
and you looked very sad.
I gave you more food and water,
but you never came back.

“The Beach” by Sanoja, aged 11

(available to listen to in episode 39)

I was out at the beach,
on a dusky sunset,
Tired and exhausted,
to home, I was about to set.

For the last glimpse of the sea,
I sat near the tides,
with the salty water all over,
and sand on all my sides.

I started thinking about the ocean,
and whatever in it can that can be.
All the life that thrives
in the vast and endless sea.

To all the living organisms,
the sea is home to the big and small.
The beauty of the ocean,
has no words to praise at all.

The sandy coastlines of joy,
offer sand castles to make,
a lovely dusk to enjoy,
and dozens of seashells to take.

Lost in all the thoughts,
I bid a goodbye to the beach.
It was pulling me like a magnet,
all the way back home till I reach.

“Coming Home” by Chloe, aged 12

(available to listen to in episode 36)

I couldn’t wait to see him
in arrival bay
I can’t wait to get there.
I’d been waiting all day.

I’m impatiently waiting,
ready to see the one I miss,
but when the huge doors openb
I can’t see the one I want to hug and kiss

I’m as sad as a lonely seal at sea
as I’m waiting in dismay.
Then I look up and wonder.
I’d wish I’d waste away

Then I see a man with short blonde hair,
I have been dying to see.
He’s carrying a guitar,
and is smiling at me

Dad’s come home from the army,
from one long year away.
It felt like forever,
and I’ve missed him everyday

Dear Dad, I really love you.
Can you please stay.
I really don’t want you to go.
Please don’t go away.

“My Treasure Chest” by Veruschka, aged 11

(available to listen to in episode 44)

Home is not a location, it is a profound feeling.
A feeling, which in gruesome times, assists you in healing.
A home is your treasure chest, it is full of precious possessions and memories:
each memory is at home,
whether it was the time you were ecstatic or crying on your knees.

The precious tears of the past have been mopped off my brain.
The tender pain from the past has been dusted off with strain.
The warm feeling has been blown away by a fan.
The hugs and kisses have been burned in a pan.
The reason for my never-ending laughter has seemed to be lost.
But wait... thankfully my home has kept all these feelings and moments,
saved and frozen permanently in my heart like frost.

A home is like a time machine, just step into it,
and a flash of memories strikes you like lightning,
the times you used to chuckle and watch TV integrated as a family,
or when your sweet grand-mom used to knit.
Dorothy in ‘ The Wizard of Oz’ was right,
there is no place like home,
because my home is what is keeping me stay as what I am,
because it has all about me, stored in it like a treasure dome.

“My Home- Wild Florida” by Ashritha, aged 11

(available to listen to in episode 44)

There are so many things in this world and more.
Let’s see what my home- Wild Florida has in store.

Beautiful blue skies that are so bright,
nothing can beat that gorgeous sight.

Crimson Hibiscus and Orange Blossom,
Yellow Wild flowers that are super awesome.

Sandy white beaches and shells galore,
mighty blue waves that wash up the shore.

Green palm trees and oak trees standing so tall,
purple perennials and shrubs that are small.

Pitch black night and white bright stars,
maybe if you look, you can even see Mars.

Crystal clear springs that shoot out of the ground,
gaze upon them, it will seem so profound.

Wild Florida is a place you can't beat.
Once in a lifetime, you must make it your retreat.

“Memories” by Dharshwana, aged 11

(available to listen to in episode 39)

As I drive out for the last time,
I glance back at the red roof and the yellow bricks making up home.
I remember the days when I fell or stood,
the moody and gloomy days, and the sunny bright days.
Bitter sweetness thoughts clouded my head.
As we made the last turn, onto our new adventure.
I unlocked the chain, and went on free.

“I’m Not Me” by Natasha, aged 13

(available to listen to in episode 33)

Remind me who I am,
without this added side-effect:
happier, focused, more awake.
More intact I guess.

I’m just a little girl,
brown hair tied in two small bunches.
Twisting, turning, spinning my plate.
Only until it’s perfect.

Counting, counting: one, two, three.
Until I get it right.
Blink ten times.
Check four times.
Now stop.

No more.
I’m done.
I’m finished.
How can this be me?

Well this is who I am now.
I’ve lost who I was meant to be.

“My Home” by Suhani, aged 13

(available to listen to in episode 42)

The walls can hear me.
The paint on it fills my life.
The white clean floor is all mine,
and the decorated table at night to dine.
The sofas where I welcome and pray
for the people who are going through a bad phase.
The curtains smile and leads my way
to another corner of my house where I stay.
The bed where I dream and my table where my favourite books lay.
The windows that help me see
the men working and birds flying free.
The other rooms where my closet people spend their time.
We all enjoy, play and sleep before nine.
This little place has all the best I need:
my people, my plants and my mind so free.
A place of peace and positivity
where together we fight adversity.

“Birds At Dawn” by Diya, aged 17

(available to listen to in episode 42)

An oranged window sill,
pluviophile with a coffee.
Vacant, dewy terrace.
A pearl illuminating the firmament.

Adorned with a proper noun.
Blood and sinews
instead of bricks and mortar.
Red, soft lips to climb.

Under the common blue ceiling.
Above the same green carpet.
The same chirping siblings.
Is home. My home.

“Death’s Cigarettes” by Cienna, aged 14

(available to listen to in Teen Reflections)

I never believed that death can haunt me.
I still don’t believe it because,
instead of haunting,
it visits me.
It tells me what to do.
But, at night, it watches me
while I watch it bring its death stick in between its lips
and blow the smoke out all around the room.
That’s why, at night, it smells like cigarettes,
but by morning, it smells like death.

“The Clock” by Naomi, aged 17

(available to listen to in episode 39)

The old family clock
sits in the corner of the living room,
with his ancient Tick Tick Tick Tick hands
-pulsating-
in time with our home’s heart
as he sees the mother,
the daughter
and the grandchild
wring out minutes
from time’s cloth.
Tick Tick Tick Tick

A shining broken face,
beaten with age,
Tick Tick Tick
his sturdy wooden frame-
strong enough to hold up the memories
of the time Tick Tick Tick we were together.
And through his wrinkled eyes,
he watches us spend his Tick Tick minutes
like treasured pound notes.

Soon my great-grandchildren
will have their beautiful moments
regarded by time itself,
as he sits in the corner Tick Tick Tick of the living room.

“Do You Know?” by Akubueze, aged 16

(available to listen to in Teen Reflections)

Do you know the home has been OK
since the day that you left?
No fighting amongst siblings.
The home has been OK,
and OK has been the home.

Do you know the home has been more fun
since they day you left?
Everyone is co-operating.
The home has been more fun,
and more fun has been the home.

Do you know the home has been filled with joy
since the day you left?
No one cry, let alone weep.
The home has been filled with joy,
and filled with joy has been the home.

It is all a lie,
all I have said.
The home has not been OK
since the day you left.
Just problem upon problem.
The home has not been more fun
since the day you left.
Just a complete boredom.
The home has not been filled with joy
since the day you left.
Just sad and sorrowful.

The home is a complete disaster
since the day you left, Mum.
You left leaving a big vacuum
with no one to fill it in.
The home has not been like it used to,
and it has not even been like a home, Mum.

RIP MUM

“Girl On The T.V.” by Natalia, aged 15

(available to listen to in Teen Reflections)

I stare at myself in the cracked reflection of my mirror. I see her.
Not just the same old me, but the real me.
It took a moment. Along the way I lost my focus.
My heart has been slightly distorted, but now I found what’s important.
I found her in me. The girl... the one on the TV.

She’s slightly older. Her demeanor is much bolder.
Her fine lines let me know she’s older. But she’s colored...
Not a rainbow filled with iridescent shimmers that glide, but still colored just as bright.
The same brightness that has been lost over time.
Forgotten by all the colorless beams that shined.
She’s me... the one I hope to be... the dreams I hope to achieve... she’s exactly who I never grew up seeing on screen.

Her tan skin glowed as the steady words of her speech flowed.
Her eyes glimmered as she talked about her passion.
It was a real time reaction to a realization that has never passed me.
It never grasped me and allowed me to see the people who are my family.
Not biologically-- but they are me.
Just across the other side of the street.
As I see are now-- prevented from ever living the lives they should be allowed to lead.

How can this be? I thought we were progressive.
I thought our skin tones were just the surface.
I thought we were all human.
When did we lose focus from the morals taught to us when we were just teens?

Can’t you see beyond the color that fills up our cheeks?
From the languages we speak…
Beyond the “they” and “them” and understand they are we.
Not some different creature from a land far and over.
Kindness isn’t something that should have a border.

How can the land of the free feel so much colder?
Let the overshadow of ridicule shine over.
As the word united loses its true meaning... now it’s just a title.
I knew this was final.

Witnessing families being torn apart because of race.
This isn’t what I was taught to stand for.
Because if it was, she would’ve stood for it too.
The first woman of color I saw on the screen…
The one who taught me that my tan skin was worth it.
That when the golden tones flush as they brighten actually means something.
How when my tan skin glows I’m no less than the ones whose skin is lighter than me.
How my culture is the first thing you recognize about me
… but the last thing that should prevent me for fighting for what I believe.

I stare at her again.

Those golden eyes that my ancestors have fought for so I can lead.
Fought for me to attend school and receive the future I deserve to achieve.
Traveled through hardships and danger for me to understand that this me…
What may be lurking inside me
Shouldn’t be distracted by the color of my skin
Shouldn’t determine my legacy
But instead be embraced by my identity.

It took a crack for me to see that girl in the mirror.
But this – this was only the beginning.
She’s me... the one I hope to be... the dreams I hope to achieve...
She’s exactly who I never grew up seeing on screen.
She’s the only one who I want to be.

“The Keys To Happiness” by Keelin, aged 14

(available to listen to in episode 44)

Dancing flames flicker with shades of gold,
In an antique fireplace. So elegant. So old.

Curtains of silk hang down like velvety tears.
Shielding them away from the world's bitter fears.

Glass ornaments shine, lining the silver mantlepiece.
as the crackling of flames form an anthem of peace.

Diamonds hang from the roof, gleaming with light.
Pictures paint the walls, such a magnificent sight.

A grand piano stands tall against a cream coloured wall,
the sweet sound of magic echoing through the halls.

Fingers run across keys, cool under tender skin.
The harmonious notes awakening something within.

The siren's song embraces the musician's soul.
The haunting beauty letting them lose control.

They are in their own world, in a melodious land.
A world that is ruled by the pianist hands.

The inky, black notes swirl like magic through the air.
The ring of the keys as they play, so sublime, so fair.

The world around them is beautiful, yet they pay it no heed.
For in the heaven of tunes, they are free from sickness and greed.

In their musical world, they are never truly alone.
In the notes of their heart, they are at home.