The Book Wars. Who would be victorious? A poem about a book genre battle.
Updated: Jul 3
I haven't blogged for over two weeks; schools are becoming crazy places to work again and I've been kept very busy.
Anyway, my imagination went for a wander and I started thinking: if there was a great book war, who would win? Yes, I'm personifying again! I can't help myself.
Would whole genres unite to prove who was best in the battle of the books? And who would be victorious in the end? Read my book battle genre poem below to see if you agree.
Teaching Idea: Get children in the class to represent their favourite genre and 'battle off' with each other. They could bring a genre to life using personification and debate, draw or write about why their chosen genre would be victorious. For example, could LOVE stories kiss HORROR into submission?
The Book Wars
The lights are out, the study's dark
The family all in bed
But whispers in the study stir
as pages flick and spread
Soon midnight strikes, it starts again
The war without a name
Fat dictionary proclaims:
“'Tis I, commander of all books -
Without me you’re all meaningless -
just sentences, no sense.”
Encyclopedias rally troops
and march in orderly lines,
“No, we're The Knowledge Emperors.
Go reference our spines.”
The hardback classics fan and sigh,
“We’ve heard it all before.
They take our plots to Hollywood,
for films the world adores."
The trashy novels huff and boast,
"We're crammed with lust and sleaze."
The classics snigger mockingly,
“You think we’re not? Oh please!”
The children’s shelf jump up and boo
Matilda starts to scream,
“You’re just old fogies, out of touch.
We’re fun and filled with dreams."
The horror stories levitate
The study holds its breath,
“Power lies in fear," they growl.
"We scare the world to death."
The cook books belch, "Our recipes,
can make the planet drool."
But Caesar whispers to Jane Eyre,
“Who is this Ramsay fool?”
The pages flap ferociously
All sure that they are right
Then from the darkest corner shone
an angry glow of light
“You’ve woken me from sleep you nerds.
Your squabbling's not worthwhile.
You’re nothing in these modern times,
unless you’re versatile.
Your million pages in my chip -
an endless data stream.
You books are pretty pointless now
Computers reign supreme.
You’re just a case of clutterers.
Retire with some grace,
or I will blow a fuse and they’ll
be sparks inside this place.”
The books fly down from their high shelves,
“You really are so smug.
There’s just one little problem dear."
And out they pull the plug