At
the end of February, our school’s Head of English poked his head through the
door during form time at the beginning of the day. However, I was completely
oblivious, eves-dropping on the conversation next to me between a group of
boys, on the antics of a night out at our local club, Winkers (also voted
Britain’s worst, which is an achievement I guess).
Suddenly,
an A5 book was slid in front of my table space; the clear wrap around it stated
my name and school. Smiling in that kind of dad way, the Head of English
congratulated me, then swiftly marched out of the door again.
It
was the published book, with my poem in it.
I
actually had a published piece.
Last
year, I entered Young Writer’s poetry competition, entitled Busta Rhyme, after my slightly eccentric
Creative Writing teacher (now inhabiting Australia – hope you are enjoying the
sun on your face, Mr. Toft, while all I am receiving is a beating from the
wind) joyfully passed around flyers. It asked that students write a slam poem
(spoken word, super cool, almost rap, and the literal opposite of myself) about
identity. So, after much mulling, I created this: Cultivating Love Flowers. It is about the current, cultural fear of
expressing love, as I myself am a hopeless romantic.
Thank you to Young Writers for selecting my poem out of all those who entered to feature in your poem book! And, also well done to everyone else whose poems stand alongside mine in it, including my rhyming-genius friend, Hollie. If anyone else would like to participate in their competitions for the same chance, go here: https://www.youngwriters.co.uk/index
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