I wrote this poem for my granny’s birthday. My inspiration was the royal pavilion in Brighton. My uncle and auntie took me there and it was amazing. In this piece of poetry I describe this spectacular palace.


As you walk into the hall,
with beautiful tapestries on the wall
and with ceilings ever so tall
and chandeliers far from small.

Great ornaments standing on varnished wood,
places where ancestors stood.

Lovely paintings in gold frames,
little plaques that say the names,
a beautiful lady in an elegant pose,
rich, wealthy and luxurious, I suppose.

A dining room with the longest table,
silver dishes from a plate to a ladle,
with seats of red velvet
and goblets full of wine,
“people come and dine”.

Bedrooms with four-poster beds,
and curtains of the finest silk,
carpets, fireplaces, all that posh ilk.
Maids a-waiting, bringing breakfast to you,
toast and jam, not one egg, but two.

Sweeping around the ballroom,
dresses in full bloom,
all colours, lovely women,
charming men.

The palace is a place for royalty,
and people,
who to the king and queen,
have shown loyalty.
Not for just you or me,
but now it’s historical we can see,
the luxurious life of a king or queen.