Sgiliau’n Sgleinio (All Skilled Up) 2010


Ym misoedd Ionawr, Mawrth a Mehefin 2010 gwelwyd parhad llwyddiant y Prosiect Sgiliau’n Sgleinio (All Skilled Up) yn Stadiwm Dinas Caerdydd. Partneriaeth yw’r prosiect rhwng yr Academi, Tîm Pêl-droed yn y Gymuned Dinas Caerdydd, Adrannau Addysg AALl, Llyfrgelloedd AALl a BSA Cymru.

Ym mis Ionawr a mis Mawrth ymunodd pedair o ysgolion cynradd Caerffili ac Ysgol Gyfun y Porth yn Rhondda Cynon Taf â’r prosiect, sy’n mynd i barhau â chyllid gan y Gynghrair Bêl-droed hyd wanwyn 2012.

Daeth dros ddau gant o blant o ysgolion mewn pum awdurdod i stadiwm newydd Dinas Caerdydd i fwynhau diwrnod ysbrydoledig o weithgareddau pêl-droed a chyfleoedd i ysgrifennu’n greadigol. Bu’r disgyblion yn gweithio naill ai ag enillydd Gwobr John Tripp, Peter Read, neu â’r bardd a’r awdur adnabyddus, Mike Jenkins i greu cerdd bêl-droed newydd. Cawsant hefyd fwynhau helfa drysor fel rhan o daith dywys o amgylch safle’r stadiwm, ynghyd ag ymweliad gan Bartley, masgot Clwb Pêl-droed Caerdydd.


Newton Primary School with Peter Read


In the silence of the frozen stadium

Echoes from a lone voice spread out, bounce back.

Cold as a freezer, cold as a giant iced lolly.

Empty chairs lined up like soldiers for battle

Frosty breath spilling as blue and white sea spray.

In the silence of the frozen stadium

Ghosts of near misses come to haunt empty stands

Can you hear the moaning of the lost spirits of fans

Can you feel the whooping ghosts cheering goals and wins.

St David’s Roman Catholic School with Peter Read

The Training Match

The goalie, a dolphin without water

Diving like a Tom Daley impersonator

Tow teams battle for the fortress of a goal

The colours, watermelons versus the sea

Balls flying high and a load of vollies

Voices echo as in a swimming pool

‘What a pass’, ‘What a shot’, ‘What a miss’

‘Foul’, ‘Offside’, ‘Come on Ref, that’s a red card’

When it’s a goal, players hug like bears.

Watching the game, it’s a human chess match

Like Harry Potter characters, they have come to life

A giant table football game without handles

No plastic players, real footballers huffing, sweating, puffing

At the final whistle stumbling, limping, trudging off

Grass as green as the Heineken banner

That stands at the entrance to the ground.

Cwmffrwdoer Primary School with Peter Read

Football in the snow

Like a snow leopard pouncing for it’s prey

Or a giant snow globe shaken by the sky

The chameleon pitch turns from green to white

Training players are swallowed in a sea of snow

Players slip and slide on invisible banana skins

The freezing goalie becomes a giant human snowman

The icy chill makes hairs on the player’s legs

Stand up like soldiers or hairs on a coconut

As the wind blows, it’s icy fingers stretch up their necks

Frozen hands turn red as glowing lava

Others have fingers turning into icicles

Game off, match postponed, call in the pools panel.

Pyle Primary School with Peter Read

Pre Match

The pitch lies silently

Waiting for the players,

Their boots thundering through the tunnel

Before stamping like a herd of bulls

To the crowds screaming chants and applause.

Footballers stretch like elasticated gymnasts,

Bend like bananas, loosen up and jiggle.

Now they look like tap dancers

The ball back and forth like a hot fire ball

It ends up in the advertising hoardings

Huge as giant toblerones.

The whistle blows, time for the match to start.

Bracla Primary School with Peter Read

City Song, City Story

The stadium open as an eye

Wavy-lined chairs, blue as the ocean

Others white as the clouds

Some yellow as mustard

They open and close like a book

Recording stories of victory, failure, defeat

The tales of fans through tears and cheers

As they sing along to the Cardiff song

Hail to Cardiff, as the mighty Bluebirds fly high.

Pontnewynedd Primary School with Peter Read

Best of the Rest

White Cardiff wave flows on chairs,

Sky blue as the deepest sea.

Wind whips your face,

Coloured stripes in the grass

Look like a stick of rock.

The pitch is a giant jungle without trees,

The wavy line of chairs a vine.

Players like monkeys, fighting to survive,

Adverts, spreading shops around the ground,

Fans stuff their faces with Peter’s pies,

Brace’s bread, quite enough said.

Moss brothers want us in suits

Not in football kits or wearing trainers.

The light shines down on the pitch

Illuminating it like a stage,

Where the football actors,

Shoot, pass, dribble, trap the ball,

Head the ball, chest the ball,

Shoot and score. The sound of the crowd

Erupts like a volcano

Through the hole in the roof

Out into the open sky for everyone to hear.

Cardiff City are infinitely cool

Cardiff City are the best of the rest.

Bryn Bach Primary School with Peter Read


The pitch is so neat

You could eat cooked dinners on it.

Birds have flown in for their own cooked meal

Cold hot dogs, oily, sticky chips

Left over bread from dropped burgers.

Nothing for them today

The staff are so tidy

They’ve taken the treats away.

Birds in the centre of the pitch

Dream of the kick off, as they peck

The seed, pushing it from claw to claw.

Soon the stadium fills with fans

Chanting for the Bluebirds

‘We’ve been knocking on the door

For eighty years or more’

But now we’re flying high.

Glanhowy Primary School with Peter Read


Seats soft as cushions

Painted blue as bluebirds

They might be heading for the sea.

White, wavy-lined chairs

Flying the flag for Cardiff.

The striped pitch looks like

Flattened green zebras,

Or the colour of frogs,

Waiting for players to warm up,

Jiggle, and hop from foot to foot.

Or perhaps, it’s a big green carpet

In an open air living room

Filled with fans watching real live football,

Seeing sweat drip off players foreheads

Hearing them shout louder than the crowd

The booming thud of the kicked football.

Tondu Primary School with Peter Read

The Dream

Running like the wind

Ball at my feet

Faster than Ledley

Panting like a dog

Drumming in my ears

Drowning out the sound of fans

Screaming, shouting instructions to the team

Doing the Mexican wave

In tune, the ball surfs along

As I crash into the box

Lob the goalie, make the net ripple

The crowd scream with joy.

‘there’s only one Natalie Foxall’.

Hoel Ddu Bargoed with Peter Read

The Empty Stadium

A sea of seats,

Crowds roar like waves.

The stadium as exciting as roller coasters

That never stops but goes on and on.

In the dug out I sit

Where the manager sits,

Feel as important as a V.I.P.

Light, bright as the sun

Glares down at the spongey grass,

Adverts shaped like hardboard tents

Sell themselves, try to make money.

Dug out Dream

Dreaming in the dug outs

I’m in charge,

Controlling the battle

Of the players.

Bluebirds fly high

Swallow Everton’s toffees

Smash the Hammers of West Ham.

I rant and rave:

‘Pass the ball,

Down the line,

Tackle him, close him down,

Offside referee.

Shoot. Oh what a miss!’

I’m shattered, exhausted.

The crowd start to boo.

It’s time to send on Corey,

Ask him to score and sort it out.

St James Primary School with Peter Read


Cardiff City

White and blue chairs set in patterns

Like the sky with fluffy clouds.

At night dark and hard as Winter.

In the daylight blue as teenie weenie smarties.

Steps and some chairs, yellow as daffodils in the sun.

Grass, green as an emerald ocean

Striped like a green jumper.

The dug out clear as a see through cup.

It might be small, but we still see the ball.

Adverts for Coca Cola

Spill around the ground like colours of the rainbow.

Come Saturday, the empty stadium will be jampacked.

Chopra’s got the ball, he’s on his way to score.

The crowd is going wild, they begin to roar,

He passes one, he passes two, he shoots, he scores.


Abercerdin with Mike Jenkins

The Stadium’s Life

I am a toddler

Haven’t long been born

My heart’s beating for Cardiff to win.

I feel like a cheetah

When we are winning,

I’ve seen winning and losing

But my spirit never goes.

But I am an angry lion

When I am losing.

I chant like a roar of thunder

When the match is starting

Or when a goal’s scored.

My colours are blue and white

Plastic blue seats like waves in the sea

And the white ones as white as a cloud

I would cheer for Cardiff with the crowd

My future so bright

Winning trophies and having new players.

Nantyffyllon with Mike Jenkins

I am Cardiff City Stadium

I am young as a baby

And as big as a whale.

I am white and blue

White as the stands, blue as the sea.

I am a Bluebird fan

I hear shouting and cheering.

I am sometimes dirty as a dump,

I am a winner and a loser.

I shout ‘C’mon the City’

And hear lots of music.

I am round as the world

And my future is BLUE!

Mendy Primary with Peter Read

Pitch like a giant green table

Slippery sauces sliding on the ground

JCBs, like man eating monsters

Loud as a Ferrari roar

No play today, players on holiday

Couldn’t play on this ripped up disaster

The smell of soil in the atmosphere

As machines uncover muddy muck,

They throw away the sleepy grass

Damp as sewers, smelly as seaweed

The pitch looks like a rubbish tip

Grass as tired as exhausted players.

Soon it will be relaid, soft juicy grass

A large blanket shining green as the Asda sign.

Pontymoel Primary with Peter Read

The Imagined Match

Rooney shoots, the baby saves,

The ball zooms from cannons

Ants catch it, chairs tackle the giant screen,

Crab shoots, the fish saves a goal.

The Queen arrives to watch the game

But the pitch has turned into a farm.

What a nasty trick by the naughty squid.

Surrounded by the imaginary crowd.

Fans scream as if it’s the end of the world,

Football boots rip up the grass

Like a cat scratching with nails.

Friends shout, loud as tractors roaring by

Managers fight like cats and dogs

People waving banners as if they’ve won a million pounds

Beckham scores but the Ref’s already sent him off.

Crowd jumps with ants in their pants

White seats as bright as the sun

Blue seats as light as the sky.

The pitch is silent and quiet, all the people gone.

St Illtyd’s Primary with Peter Read

Re laying the Pitch

White seats spell Cardiff City

Patterns made from different colours

Twenty seven thousand, empty as a glass without water.

Lights waiting to illuminate the colossal stadium.

No fans, only the tractor FIFA World Cup

Red JCB s versus yellow JCBs

Dance across the muddy green grass

Tearing up the pitch as they move along.

Heavy, ground shaking movements

Sounds like mechanical coughing,

Choking on grass, ready to spew

Into waiting trailers. The game is ended,

The reds have won, no one was there to see

The victory of the relaid turf.

Glyncoed Primary with Peter Read

The beautiful battle

White Cardiff in a sea of blue

Seats making the Mexican Wave

Green grass laid out like a mat

The sun’s blinding light shines on the pitch

Through the donutty roof

In the empty stadium we imagine

Roaring, chanting, screaming crowds

Two teams lined up for the battle of the football.

We hear the commentator’s booming voice

Cardiff score, the crowd’s noise a stampeding elephant

In the jampacked, grassy smell

Beneath the puffy, fluffy clouds

That look like candy floss..