SHORTLISTED POEMS

2018

INTRODUCTION

It is wonderful to welcome you all to Royal Russell’s second annual poetry festival. This year’s poetry festival theme is ‘change’ and every student in Years 7-10 and the Sixth Form was asked to use their creative juices and respond in poetic form! The poems you will hear and read tonight have been shortlisted by the English and Library departments from around 450 entries and so it is an enormous achievement for them to be included here today. We gave our students some guidance about what to write about as the enormous theme of ‘change’ can be quite intimidating. Year 7 were asked to write about the changes that happen physically – this could have been about them as they grew up and matured; the transformation in nature – that of a caterpillar into a butterfly or a leaf’s journey through the seasons, for example; or a fantastical transformation. Year 8 were asked to write about the change that takes place in the world around us – this could be moving house, school, even country, or, they were told they could look at larger issues such as climate change, or how the world or Earth has changed over time. Year 9 were asked to write about the change that has taken place over the years in attitudes; we asked them to think about the views about men and women, religion, fame, celebrity. They were given the opportunity to explore challenging issues such as homophobia, racism or sexism. Or, indeed, political change – Brexit, for example and how it has changed our country. Years 10 and above were asked to think about personal change: How have they changed? Their lives? We asked them to explore their own – or a character’s - personal change, growth or transformation. However, if they wanted to reject all of these suggestions, we very much encouraged them to do so – this was their poem, their choice, their creative journey.

There will be a brief interval after all the poems have been read, where you are welcome to complimentary refreshments. The prize winners for each year group will then be selected and awarded their prizes by Ros Barber, our visiting poet. I would like to thank Mary, Jenny and Nikki from the library, Mo Willis and the catering department, Katie Smith in the school office, Philip Millward and the Jazz Band and the whole English department for all the hard work they have put in to today’s festival. I do hope you enjoy the evening of poetry ahead.

Helen Stevens

Head of English

BIOGRAPHY

Ros Barber’s critically-acclaimed verse novel The Marlowe Papers was

winner of the Desmond Elliott Prize, joint winner of the Author’s Club Best

First Novel Award and long-listed for the Women’s Fiction (formerly

Orange, now Baileys) Prize. Her second novel Devotion (2015) was

shortlisted for the Encore Award.

Three times commended in the National Poetry Competition, she has

published two collections of poetry with Anvil, including Material (2008), a

Poetry Book Society recommendation. Her poems have appeared in

numerous anthologies including Faber’s Poems of the Decade (2012), now

a set text for the EdExcel English Literature A and AS Level; another poem

(originally a commission for an Arts Council England public art project) is

on the AQA GCSE syllabus.

She has twice been joint winner of the Calvin and Rose G Hoffman Award

for a distinguished work on Christopher Marlowe. She is Director of

Research at the Shakespearean Authorship Trust and the editor of 30-

Second Shakespeare (2015). She teaches for Arvon and the Poetry Society,

and is a lecturer in Creative and Life Writing at Goldsmiths, University of

London.

WINNERS’ LIST

Year 7 winner Year 7 runner up

Junaid Quazi – Keable Stanley Harrison – Keable

Year 8 winner Year 8 runner up

Tom Beare – St Andrew’s Phoenix Courtney-Bennett – Keable

Year 9 winner Year 9 runner up

Henry Steele – Cambridge Naomi Brown – Hollenden

Year 10 winner Year 10 runner up

Lottie Shepheard – Hollenden Amber Kennedy – Reade

Sixth form winner Sixth form runner up

Anna Armitage – Queen’s Crina-Alexandra Misaila – Queen’s

OVERALL WINNER YEAR 7 - 9

Tom Beare – St Andrew’s

OVERALL WINNER YEAR 10 – SIXTH FORM

Anna Armitage – Queen’s

RECITATION YEAR 7-9 Kobi Jawaheer – St Andrew’s

RECITATION YEAR 10 – SIXTH

FORM

Rosharna Thomas-Grant – Queen’s

Physical change or transformation – Year 7 Year 7 were asked to write about the changes that happen physically – this could have been them as they grew up and matured; the transformation in nature – that of a caterpillar into a butterfly or a leaf’s journey through the seasons, for example; or a fantastical transformation.

Change The four seasons are a change of colours. Spring, painted with light green, Summer, sketched with lazy blue, Autumn, drowned in muddy brown, Winter, rained with snowy white. The Spring leaves soften out from the ground, the birds tweet happily through the leaves of the trees. The Summer is always a warmness everyone waits for. The sun reaches out to people smiling and waving. Autumn is always frosty with a smooth breezy wind. Furry scarves and cosy coats softening them like a comfy massage. Winter freezes you as though you’re in a refrigerator. The leaves die away in the pale snow and the light spring leaves grow back from the ground.

Minwoo Park – year 7 – Keable

The Changing of the Seasons The bright sun was out, and shining like the stars. As people were going to the beach and driving around in their cars. Swimsuits were all around, and towels were always on hand. On the wrists of the girls was always a hairband. Summer was turning into Autumn, brown leaves were falling down. It was getting darker at night, everything was quieter in town. Scarves, hats and woolly mittens, thicker clothes were being worn. Skirts were not a choice anymore, less clothes were being torn. It was now freezing, snow was beginning to fall. The birds have stopped chirping, the cockerel has given up his call. Everyone was shutting down, ready for the winter to come.

Millie Taylor – year 7 – Queen’s

Change I am living in your house I am killing your wildlife I have disturbed our environment We need to change I come in all shapes and sizes I can be sharp I have floated the world We need to change I come in all colours I am swallowed but not regurgitated I have polluted the oceans We need to change I am a million trash bags in the sea I am creating a dilemma I have caused disaster to the world We need to change I am reusable I need to be recycled I need to be arrested or transformed For I am the criminal of the world I AM PLASTIC!

Stanley Harrison – year 7 – Keable

Change Our house doesn’t feel the same today Since my older brother went away There are no doors slamming day and night. There is no loud music coming from upstairs No fast footsteps everywhere There are no endless text alerts No more messy towels on the bathroom floor No constant knocks on the door With queries “Is Kashif there?” The TV isn’t on late in the night No more clambering over hockey bags in the corridor No more footballs and goal-keeping gloves on the floor No sudden loud laughter wherever he is Now the house feels quiet and I feel calm Things will go back to normal when he comes back this Christmas holiday

Junaid Quazi – year 7 – Keable

Change in environment or place – Year 8

Year 8 were asked to write about the change that takes place in the world around us – this could be moving house, school, even country, or, they were told they could look at larger issues such as climate change, or how the world or Earth has changed over time.

Change – I remember … I remember that girl, who would look in the mirror. day in, day out, staring at the permanent stains on her face. They would never go away. Just sitting there. The ones you can’t erase. Nevertheless, she would pray for them to go away. And that other girl who needed a leash for her temper. It needed to be controlled. She would scream and shout, letting the whole world know that she was about to go away, Leaving them without an answer, if she was OK. “Deep breaths” she’d say. “Happy thoughts” she’d say. Knowing that this was just stirring the dismay lurking in her brain and heart, slowly shredding her apart. I remember this so well, because this girl was me and I had so many insecurities and many disbeliefs. But then I evolved, became organised and intact, and now I see nothing abnormal or strange about wanting to change.

Lina Ahmed Kasasa – year 8 – Buchanan

From A Bee There used to be empty, unkept meadows Now there are busy, multi-use facilities There used to be forgotten, overgrown gardens Now there is ‘minimal maintenance’ smartness There used to be muddy playing fields Now there is year-round astro-turf There used to be ancient, twisted trees Now there is health and safety There used to be crop successes and failures Now there is pesticide-aided certainty I used to have a million cousins Now I have just three.

Tom Beare – year 8 – St Andrew’s

School Poem So in nursery I knew my ABC I would talk to my mates and my mates talked to me If I was naughty I would get pegged Sometimes I would beg To have my name off the peg In Reception I was smart My timetables were fast I completed my tasks And was placed high on the charts In year 1 I got bored I met a guy called George He was nice for a while But he didn’t stay, like my smile. In year 2 I started playing the piano I remember that year it didn’t snow My Afro didn’t grow I was particularly slow My parents enjoyed the nativity show In year 3 I felt much older The teacher seemed much colder That’s when I became a lot bolder And was given a separate report folder In year 4 I no longer seemed good at Maths But I will get better and follow my path I have now got better and stronger at Maths But have processing disorder and feel a bit daft. In Year 5 I needed to measure in grams I prepped for CATs and sat 10 plus exams Oh what a bore, it was like counting lambs At least I’m back to my favourite programs

In year 6 I had Miss Frisby She really was quite ditsy I know it’s too good for reality But I met some good mates, like Bailey. In year 7 I lost a friend But gained much more than that in the end I completed my grade 5 theory And this made me feel quite cheery Now, in year 8, I’m making a fresh start Better grades than I made when I started I like my teachers, and my friends But homework still hits me like a gun.

Phoenix Courtney-Bennett – year 8 – Keable

The changing day poem The sun peeks up in the early morning sky, as the new day starts, chirping birds fly. The calm of night disappears, replaced by hustle and bustle as chaos appears. Coffees are brewing, toasters pop up, rushing to work, clenching onto a coffee cup. Trains depart, buses arrive, the city is buzzing, energetic and alive. Clickedy-clack the keyboards go, children in the playground running to and fro. The school day is finished, the office is shut. The day has not ended, it is anything but. People jostle for space on the bus, eager to get home without a fuss. Keys turn in doors, lights flickers on. As the evening begins the sun is gone. Dinner is cooking, tables are reserved. Tummies are rumbling as dinner is served. Lots of chatter about how the day went, what people did and how time was spent. The day is calming, street lamps are on. Time to relax and put your PJs on. Mist in the air in the serenity of night. Stars in the sky, the moon shines bright.

People drift off in their warm cosy beds, dreaming about the new day ahead. The night, it changes into day, as the sun peeks up, just like yesterday.

Tara Odedra – year 8 – Buchanan

Corrupted My dad told me that the sky is blue I never thought that it was true As all I can see are skies of grey Glimpse of colour, a ribbon of freedom that lights and fades away Nowhere for the birds to rest No nests or houses on treetops left We breed comfort and discomfort at the same time A trip that makes a footprint in rhyme, Havoc, compose a disorder, Sea of seeds, innocent 'lambs to the slaughter' Dismantled and devoured, on a breeze of sour forgetfulness No regret, not yet, until it is too late, hopelessness Corrupted dark towers leaking fog and poison into the atmosphere Sad melody humming on the Atlantic, the shores weeping icy tears On a stage where the lines are always the same Savage to nature and no one to blame Cowards spitting policies from comfy parliament chairs The earth is asthmatic and no one cares I take my last step, gasping for air Struggle to breathe, suffocating while my lungs tear No inhaler, no medicine to repair, Just a birth of death and dust, no air Open your mind and look for the spark, light up the dark Now turn the page. CHANGE

Kobi Jawaheer – year 8 – St Andrew’s

Change This is my heart, uninhabited here, all things wither, until you come here, you’ve got a chance. Everything is alive, birds and flowers, like a fairy tale. (Please read from top to bottom and then read it from the bottom up)

Sitong Zhu – year 8 – Cambridge

Pollution

I am a smoky veil suffocating the world slowly

I am a deadly monster caging the world in my fist

I am greedy and feed off emissions you send to the sky

You are oblivious and you won’t even try

To stop me

You can’t make sky clear as it once was

Because I am the dark shadow that will haunt you forever

And ever

Amber Lukes – year 8 – Queen’s

The Lungs of the Earth Green covered the Earth right down to its core, grass and meadows scattered across the surface, trees stood tall and proud like gentle, giant statues. Wind, oh the wind it blew, through the gaps in the trees, interrupting their conversations. The sun and moon on opposite sides of the universe, still close enough to comprehend the beauty. Enhanced by the thriving light at dusk and dawn, the Earth had never seen such majesty, and naively thought it would last. Burning, burning across the lands, destroying the grass and the meadows and the green, killing the trees and their lingering whispers and secrets. A single tree remained, like a skeleton stood still on the barren, charred skin of the Earth, one last soldier, first in command, preparing to fight this battle. One withered, crispy leaf, a mirror of the sunset, unwillingly detached itself from the coarse bark, slowly floating to the ground, the wind swaying it slightly. And the Earth despaired at the loss of humanity.

Safia Opie – year 8 – Buchanan

Water I loved to travel, I still do but I’m trapped. I used to go everywhere as free as could be. I swam with the dolphins in the Mediterranean Sea one day, and gazed at the northern lights the next. But this is in the past, my life has turned cold and dark. These cold hard metal boundaries keep me in. There is no way out. I try to scale the sides, I try all the time. I try to climb up the walls. But I slip, and fall. I feel like a caged animal, I suppose I am. You don’t realise that I am in pain and look up longingly to sky, and see the birds… Free. My torture is normal to you, part off your daily routine. Mother always told me that it was all just part of living. As you slowly drain my life away from me, I remember. I am doing this for the greater good, to keep YOU alive. It’s not my decision to make any way you need me…… I am water

Lara Flint – year 8 – Queen’s

Changing attitudes or changes in society – Year 9 Year 9 were asked to write about the change that has taken place over the years in attitudes, thinking about the views about men and women, religion, fame, celebrity. They were given the opportunity to explore challenging issues such as homophobia, racism or sexism. Or, indeed, political change – Brexit, for example and how it has changed our country.

Photo: Max Rickards – Old Russellian

Change Society tells us we’re not good enough and eventually we believe we are not. We measure our self-worth on what we see on the scale. All our skills and talents eventually forgot. We become obsessed with our reflection. They want us to be nothing but perfection. Beautiful Instagram models setting unrealistic expectations. Girls get used to their stomach being empty and their hearts turn stone cold. They no longer think they are human. Just another soul that needs to fit the mould. We become obsessed with our reflection. They want us to be nothing but perfection. Beautiful Instagram models setting unrealistic expectations.

Molly Wicking – year 9 – Buchanan

Changing of the Guard On Monday, the first guard with a plump belly and versatile knowledge is stationed in a small dark room. I peep into his world and feel excitement “The cat is not at home, so the mouse can play”. On Tuesday, the next day, the second guard patrols up and down, up and down, up and down; the mice find somewhere to hide in the shadows: the cheese has vanished and the cereals are locked away. On Wednesday, the third guard also patrols up and down. But really attentive, so there are no criminals who can escape from his eyes. He can summon the hurricane because he can move really quickly like a Ninja but when he is moving we can always see a glaring light from his head. On Thursday, the fourth guard is the most gentle one. He keeps everything tidy and he is the easiest to talk to. The cat also can be friends with mice; mice don’t have to hide; the cat plays with the mice. On Friday, the most stimulating day. It’s gambling all the time; it’s the same as shaking the dice. Which guard you have is down to luck. Sometimes we are excited and sometimes we are depressed. Oscar Lau – year 9 – Cambridge NOTE: This poem was composed by Oscar about the duty staff in Cambridge Boarding house – can you guess who is who?

Always love you The day you said you loved me, I blushed a crimson red, I smiled with tears of happiness, I cried myself to bed. You wanted it a secret, just because we’re girls, and I said yes, but you believed, our secret would uncurl. You looked at me through sooty lashes, I love your pretty face, your chocolate eyes, your silky hair, such beauty and such grace. I really do not understand, why you left me for a boy, we laughed together every day, I thought I brought you joy? I remember when you said the words, “Will you go out with me?” but your love for me went away, It’s sailing out to sea. You lit up all my darkest days, like a flash of light, without you it is always, darker than the night. Through winter, autumn, summer, spring, I really hope you see, I still love you with all my heart, I just wish you’d love me.

You broke up with me, because I’m not a guy, You said “sorry, we can’t be,” we kissed and hugged goodbye.

Rain Reid-Parr – year 9 - Reade

Racism Why isn’t racism a thing of the past? It should’ve perished when dinosaurs died. There was once an age where people asked, whether people of other skin tones even cried? That’s why everybody from every nation, people from any kind of race, should respect each other, whether black or Asian, or if the skin is different on your face. People always wonder whether an ethic or a moral, should even just be able to stop them from being horrible. It’s definitely saddening that people are meeting their fate, just for having a different colour they receive such hate? If people could just learn that we’re all the same inside, maybe the world could settle into peace? But just because beliefs and faith collide, why should the connection we share just cease? “They steal our jobs!” they say. “Please kill them all!” they pray. “They saved our company!” we say. “Love to all colours!” is the way. Now don’t get me started on the way that the different people have parted. The wars and the blood that they have spilt, is just another way to add to our guilt. Why can’t we just come together, hand in hand, through the roughest weather? And if our connection breaks over more difference, we don’t have to fall like Icarus.

James Cryer – year 9 – Oxford

Change We lived amongst the swell, the fires burnt so well. Now we must flee, although we did plea. We marched with pride, as with vigour we took each stride. But now we know they lied, for we all have lost our pride. The comfort of my bed, used to warm my head. But now I am forlorn, as I shiver in the bitter dawn. Now I stand front of the line, waiting for that time. I see men falling all around, as one by one they fall to the ground. The warmth of my sweet hearts hands, and the wedding planned. I say a prayer, as I run from a flare. Blood running down my face, as I ache I pace. The wind blows icy cold, as on my knees I fold. Georgia Yeulett – year 9 – Buchanan

Social inequality I live on the streets, my prospects bleak, every single week, misery of dawn sets in. Ever feeling grim, my life is dim, I know my time is running out, as the days drag on. After the war, it was luck of the draw. So I find myself here asking people to care, and to be aware, that even a fighter for a country, can be left on the street, with his prospects bleak and his once strong bones weak. I gave my all for this nation, yet now face starvation. On leaving the Army I nearly went barmy. “PTSD” the doc said. But that didn’t get me a bed. Sleeping on these streets, I’m going to end up dead. As I walk the streets of this lonely town, I think the government has let me down. No job, no house, not even a bed. These are the thoughts in my head. When I see the rich happily driving along,

unaware how quickly it can all go wrong. As a once heroic soldier lies prostrate, a lonely death seems to be his fate, no help from the State, not even a mate. How can they keep calling Britain Great? Henry Steele – year 9 - Cambridge

Change Because of my colour you want me to feel shame? Because of my strong melanin we are killed in your brutal, no rules ‘game’. Stop…..What has changed? You want me to bow down and feel blame? I can’t be stopped because there’s a flame that burns like coal when they take aim Never embarrassed of who I became, who I was, where I’ve come from and who I am today. For I have a name that cannot be framed in your hatred. It’s not ‘the coloured, black, minority ethnic, negro girl’ it’s NAOMI! My voice won’t be tamed. You can’t deny my fame for loving the skin I’m in. I am bowing out of your deadly game. I’ll never be ‘that person’ held under their glass and frame. I won’t let them steal my happiness when they give me pain Generations past killed by racism. Who would believe it would last in a world that has changed, I have more freedom but can never be free from their past From their violence and racism which continues to be our present Emmet Till – 14, lynched in 1955

Sean Rigg – 40, ‘cardiac arrest’ 2008 Trayvon Martin – 17, fatally killed 2012 Rashan Charles – 20, ‘cardiac arrest’ 2017 Can you tell me what has changed?

Naomi Brown – year 9 - Hollenden

Personal change – Year 10 and above

Years 10 and above were asked to think about personal change: How have they changed? Their lives? We asked them to explore their own – or a character’s - personal change, growth or transformation.

Never change for anybody I have been conquered by a spirit, I will call it depression. I am nothing, just a bully’s possession. I am here acting strong and brave. So I don’t act weak and become their personal slave. I cry myself to sleep. Even in my dreams I hear myself weep. I think and wonder why they want me to change. I look in the mirror, looking so sad, thinking: am I strange? With me as their slave, what will they gain? I just have anger, hatred and physical pain. I can’t last here for the rest of my life. I might have to rebel and kill them with a knife. I have been abused physically be being hit with a plate. I have been abused verbally by being called an ape. Why do I get this treatment, why is it right? I am nothing except the bully’s delight. I want to go and leave all this behind. I don’t want my memories to resurface and come back to my mind. I am not bad, I have not committed a crime. I am a normal black boy who won’t change at any time.

Jaiden Drakes-Thomas – year 10 – Keable

The Kitchen My great great grandmother worked the kitchen, Cook to the rich and the powerful, Silent curtsies for her shilling, Bowing her head in service. My grandmother worked the kitchen, hands covered in flour, helped by new machines, not by her husband. My mother works the kitchen, no longer forced to the back of the house alone, side door open to the world with a glass of wine in hand, old friends by her side. I work in the kitchen, cook for no-one but bow my head in concentration, hands covered in ink, helped by Google and my older sister, I learn for my future. I wonder if my daughter will work in the kitchen, not because of her gender but because of her love for food, her ability to choose, countertop or desk, flour or ink, wine or textbooks, or both. It will be her choice, And there will be change.

Lottie Shepheard – year 10 – Hollenden

Seasons The mellow yellow The orange brown, the golden, the green All leaves fluttering down Paved away by the winter breeze Replaced by rain and wind and snow Cold bitter darkness, greys and blues No bright splashes, no long evenings, just cold, eternal cold. Then one flower, crisp and bright, flourishes No more winter nights Sun and rain, and finally clear skies Flowers and trees, leaves and bugs Spring is here, winter’s gone. Burning sun blazing in the sky Hot long eves Warm early morns Midsummer’s here Midsummer’s here

Luke McCabe – year 10 – Madden

Life Changes At the start, it is all just noises and cries until mummy and daddy sing lullabies. They swaddle you and feed you till you’re tired once more. Then they creep to bed and slowly close the door. Before you know it you’re on all fours grabbing at the furniture with your dirty paws. From throwing fits and throwing tantrums to hitting pots and playing hand drums In a blink of an eye, you’re off to school wondering whether the other kids will think you’re cool. All excited with a spring in your step, you hurry home to do your prep A couple of years and you’re older trying to perfect the flawless smoulder. Your emotions are high, your emotions are low. All you want to do is just scream NO! Next the wedding bells ring and then you’re pushing your kid on the swing. Back to work you go earning the money through sun and snow You sit down and watch the grandkids play as the sun goes down to end the day. Old and wrinkly you look back on all of the exchanges and think of how with time, your life changes

Amber Kennedy – year 10 – Reade

Change As time ticks forward and the days roll onwards The only constant is change As those you love perish, a shadow in their old age The only constant is change As civilisations are flattened by catastrophe and pain The only constant is change As the vicious oceans of human rage kill and maim in its name The only constant is change As mountains are flattened and the continents rearranged The only constant is change The only constant is change

T H E

O N L Y

C O N S T A N T I S

D I F F E R E N C E

Liam Smith – year 10 - Madden

Change The sun is down and the land is slumbering. But the creatures of the night rule the land. A shadow swoops from lofty heights, snatching a squealing rat in its razor talons. While the creatures of the day sleep in peace. Unaware of the dangers of the night. A sliver of sun glimmers to the east. A beacon of hope for the prey of the night. The birds begin to sing their happy songs. The land begins to stir and wake. The creatures of the day are rising up. While the creatures of the night settle down to sleep. The sun is up at the height of its journey and the creatures of the day rule the land. A wily fox darts out from the bushes, grabbing a terrified rabbit in its sharp claws. While the creatures of the night slumber in bliss. Unaware of the terrors of the day. A sliver of sun sinks down to the west. A waking call to the creatures of the night. The birds begin to sing their joyful songs. And the rabbits and foxes snuggle in their burrows. But the creatures of the night are rising up. While the creatures of the day settle down to sleep.

Arthur Heath – year 10 – Madden

Change

When our descendants walked out of those big caves, into the first rays of sunlight in the morning. Could they imagine the skyscrapers with shiny surfaces, and the museums which their bones and bodies lay now? When Alexander the Great conquered Egypt, with his unstoppable army and great soldiers, could he imagine the emails we send and receive across the world, and the phone calls we make? When Napoleon lost in the Battle of Waterloo, also sent to Saint Helena and eventually died, could he imagine how France and England play friendly in a football game, and the amount of people buying French fashion brand items? Our world has changed, but did it?

Marshall Guo – year 10 - Oxford

Change Personally, I hate change. Change means getting older, change means grey hairs and wrinkly skin. Change means bills and taxes and lawsuits and more, but since 1920 nothing’s changed at all. Kings and Princes it’s always reigning men. What if we changed the trend around? Let women lead instead. Instead of making us serve you a grand old steak for lunch, we would have been up there with them but now you have Donald Trump. If you would have seen us eye to eye your bank account wouldn’t be this small. But since you were stubborn and decided to stall, you’re now paying for a great big wall. The last time men ruled they started WW2 and now you’re giving the power to someone who looks to see if his tan is overdue. I’m all for justice but do you really think it’s fair? You gave America to someone who looks like they wear a cat for their hair. We hear such bad things from men, so why would my younger brother be the next heir? It is time for something to happen, it’s time to make a change. It’s time for women to actually get their say. We have gotten the vote, but our voice is not heard. We get overlooked and always come in third, while all men come in first.

Rosharna Thomas-Grant – year 10 – Queen’s

Seasons Bending, twisting and cracking of bones, oh, the forces that attract me to you; past times when my hand consisted of yours - present emotional residue. Sat still, thinking and reminiscing. May, and your eyes like a spring’s sun. One year’s passed and you’re away; for me, the winter has begun. Rhythmic diaries of our duet, I think it is time to turn the page. As you realise, do not forget. Much like seasons, feelings change.

Crina-Alexandra Misaila – year 12 – Queen’s

Change i'm a woman now let me sit how that sits... nah, i don't like the way that title fits. a woman is brave and strong, she’s all powerful strides and puffed up shoulders in a power suit, she’s a lipstick smile, and feminine wiles, she’s big and she’s bad and she’s a boss. i'm a girl no, this label’s not right a girl wishes on stars with her eyes clenched up tight, she’s a dreamer, a believer, she’s a tall tale weaver she’s got her hair in pigtails cos her mum says it’s sweet, but how can she find her way in this world on those tentative size three feet? i'm a teenager a big bad wolf, in a black baggy hoodie, dark street corners, corner shop lingerers, a danger to the world, with a whole world on my phone which no one over twenty understands. exhausted, but you call it lazy. arrogant cos i don't let your words faze me. unsociable? you just don't understand at all. being a teen is nothing to be proud about. it’s a dark cloud of confusion and you can’t find your way out. i'm a friend though. i'm a laugh in a time of need, i'm the one who tells you not to take heed of their horrible words. always got a kind word for my kindred souls, always there when the next path in your life unfolds i'm a best friend too. together we’re the dream team, we slay, can i just say? i'm your comrade in the field, side by side we stand strong, marching in sync all day long, we dodge bullets, we’re covering then firing, next thing you know, we’re dying from laughing, cos you probably just said

something embarrassing in front of that boy you fancy. but it doesn't matter, cos i'm here. i'm me. time may change me, said bowie, but i'm still gonna be exactly who i want me to be. just cos i'm not fully grown, i still have an identity. just cos i don't label it, don't timetable it, don't pencil into my calendar, ‘today i become a woman!’ ill take my time and ill do what’s right, i'm not going to give in to the fight and conform to what you want me to be. because i'm me. unapologetically.

Anna Armitage – year 13 – Queen’s

Choice Restless, fumbling. Stumbling over turning pages. Breathless, frightened. Options weighed with caution. Right, wrong, ambiguous. Time turning in on itself, desperate. Yes. No. Maybe so. Crossed out – reconsidering. Likely … uncertain. Circled – Erased. Another circle below the first. - The first choice was the correct answer.

Ceres Yung – year 13 – Queen’s

Curls Her head was perfect by morning Not a curl or a twist out of place Sticky gel and a comb Which would never leave home That would leave all the boys in a chase. Patted, neat and compact Each ringlet glowed with delight A perfect fro that Could put on a show While the other girls glared in spite. Then the sun began to wave goodbye And as day turned to night It began to transform Matted and nappy Nothing quite chatty about This bush that replaced a once “perfect” head. Curls grew like buildings, twists warped wilder and wilder Twirls longer and thicker, nothing was bigger But that would be then Until morning came again.

Christopher Patten-Walker – year 13 – Keable

The Rose A rose’s structure is built on variety, every growth creates new features. It evolves the same as society. We see the progress and contrast of leaders. A rose’s defence and protection is made by each individual thorn. We are sent off to war through subjection, forcing humanity to mourn.

Rheanna Marriott – year 13 - Reade

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