Abernethy, Aberargie and Dron News

Date of Last Submission

31st October 2022

Date of Publication

1st December 2022



 Children (Class 1)

The judges were impressed by the imaginative and descriptive language used in all four entries.

1= “Spring” & “Abernethy”

3= “The Poppies” & “Three Sheep”


The judges enjoyed the variety of styles exhibited in the adults’ poems.

1= “Disabled in the Wild” & “Procrastination”

3 “A Saint for Small Kindnesses”

Special Award for writing in the Scots language: “Is it Spring yet?”

Judges comment

We suggest that, for future poetry competitions, providing a theme or topic might add a bit of extra interest to the competition, as well as assisting the judges to compare “like with like”. For example this year a topical theme – for all age groups – could have been “Poppies” , or “Nurse Peattie’s Garden”. Just an idea…!

The standard of the 2016 competition was very high. The judges were very impressed by the imaginative and descriptive language used in all the children’s entries. The joint First Prize winners of £30 each were Hannah Poots for ‘Spring’ and Hayley Young for ‘Abernethy’. ‘The Poppies’ by Lauryn MacNeill and ‘Three Sheep’ by Lucy Craig were joint Third Prize winners of £10 each. The variety of styles exhibited in the adult’s poems were greatly enjoyed by the judges. Joint First Prizes of £30 each went to Angela Wright for ‘Disabled in the Wild’ and to Jill Young for ‘Procrastination’. Heather McVean was third with ‘A Saint for small Kindnesses’ and wins £10. It would be great to see the prize winners at the Crier Distributors Party at the beginning of December to present the prizes in person but prizes will be sent out to prize winners who cannot manage to come. Many thanks to the anonymous judges for the extremely demanding task of assessing the high quality entries with thought and skill.



The round tower has power

And it is taller than any flower

The primary school is cool

It makes sure you’re not a fool

Nurse Peattie’s garden is really nice

And to get in it costs no price

It’s great to go to Powrie Park

But I don’t think so when it’s dark

Hayley Young  Age 8

The Poppies

Poppies shine red red really bright bright bright.

Out come the poppy’s memory of the soldiers

Proud of the soldiers who fought bravely

Pleased with the poppies that grow higher and higher

You should remember them for their bravery.

Remember them.

Lauryn MacNeill  Age 8

Three Sheep

My three sheep called Jill, Bill and Dill

Went for an adventure up the hill

Jill and Bill caught a chill

As they played by the mill

Dill said don’t worry I’ve got a pill

Jill gulped it down with her usual shrill

But when they got to the bottom Bill still felt ill

                Jill said ‘well, there’s nothing wrong with me’
    Dill said ‘there wouldnae be but you’re still an irritating flea!!

Lucy Craig Age 8

I can see fluffy brown rabbits hopping across the grass,

I can hear robins tweeting in a tall green tree,

I can taste orange sticky honey,

I can smell the fresh spring air,

I can feel the smooth green leaves

Hannah Poots  Age 7

Disabled in the Wild

They say you were disabled in the wild,

torn and dishevelled, fallen

from big hunting skies.


in that moment,

hunted down and gathered up,

you strained to fly from the falconer’s glove.

Grace and beauty defined you,

when you were a bird of prey.

A cliff-edged life, now roofed and walled.

Through the wire we study you:

eyes, unsettling and still.

Once you were

a speck in the sky -

we gazed through narrowed eyes

               to follow your peerless flight.

Angela Wright

A Saint for small kindnesses
          (For Carers)

Is there a patron saint of small kindnesses,

who’ll witness the changing of sheets in the night,

the popping in of good neighbours,

the kiss to paper cheek when age

has done its work?

Is there a saint who’ll recognise the hand that guides

the elbow or the ear that hears the story,

yet again, as if it’s new? Who, against the trend,

will champion the loyal and unassuming;

quietly, discreetly.

Heather Reid

Is It Spring Yet?

The new born lamb hings tae it's mither,

An April day wi hellish weather,

Trees wi moss and lichens shiver,

Is it Spring yet?

Maist fields are plooghed their seed awaitin,

Peewit pairs their nests are makin,

The mountain hare it's coat a turnin,

Is it Spring yet?

Rain and mist the sky is laidin,

Nae soond I hear, nae birds are singin,

Summer soon we a' are hopin,

                             Is it Spring yet?

Jimmy Swan


I’m going to write a book, I said.

I’ve loads of ideas in my head,

Great stories and protagonists,

I’ll top all the bestseller lists.

Perfection takes time, so they say.

Perhaps I’ll start another day.

I’m going to run a marathon.

I’d better get some training done.

I’ve made a plan and bought the kit.

I’ll head out now and get more fit.

The rain’s on though, I’ll maybe wait,

And take more time to contemplate.

I’m going to go on BGT.

No-one’s got a voice like me.

I’ll use my singing to impress,

And all the judges will say ‘YES!’

Oh dear, I’ve missed the closing date.

I guess fame will have to wait.

I’m going to lose a pound or two.

I’ll try carb free or the 5:2,

Slimming World or Scottish Slimmers.

Will any of them make me trimmer?

Too many choices, which to make?

I could just have another cake.

I’ll write a poem for the Crier.

Everybody loves a trier.

A literary masterpiece,

Along the lines of War and Peace.

That doesn’t sound like too much fun.

Maybe I’ll just send this one.

Jill Young