At its chest is death.

Barbarous in its form

As they fear its dreaded breath

* It is war!

* The tank is its servant

Brutal destruction

Hearing the battle-cry

They fear the eruption

* It is war!

* It devours everything

In its tracks

It creams, crumbles, destructs

And hacks

* It is war!

Phillip Pollard, 10, Forest Row CE school, East Sussex

What I like best about poetry is its energy, the sense - and this is what I look for - that the writers are having a good time, are throwing themselves into the business of being human; and, in doing that, are offering us, the readers, the luxury of exploring what it is to be human. This is not just about comfort and sentimentality. On the contrary, the greater the art, the more disturbing. But disturbing in such a way that we like it like that.

I appreciate Phillip Pollard’s poem “War” for its energy. But with the energy comes the responsibility to contain it, to give it form. This he does, by the use of four-line stanzas, a refrain, and a powerful rhyme-scheme: deathbreathdestructioneruption and, finally, and even more dramatically, trackshacks. Thank you, Phillip.

PS. Last week’s odd word out was vole. (It’s the only one that doesn’t contain a trio of consecutive letters in alphabetical order.) This week’s word is ghoti. Bearing in mind the vagaries of English spelling and pronunciation, what creature that lives in the sea might this be?

Selima Hill

Phillip Pollard receives The Oldest Girl in the World by Carol Ann Duffy (Faber). His poem was submitted by Ann Williams. Selima Hill, TESguest poet for the current term, won this year’s Whitbread poetry prize for Bunny. She is a tutor for the Poetry School and the South Bank Centre, and is currently working on her eighth collection, Portrait of my Lover as a Horse. Please send poems, no longer than 20 lines, to Friday magazine, Admiral House, 66-68 East Smithfield, London E1W 1BX. Include the poet’s name, age and address, the name of the submitting teacher and the school address. Or email: friday@tes.co.uk