Creative Critics Competition
Year 12 students achieved great success in this competition which invites students from all over the country to respond to the poems of the Forward Prize nominated poets by writing a poem of their own; this is accompanied by a commentary in which they explain their aims and explore the ways in which their poem relates to the original.
Twelve entries from a wide range of schools were shortlisted and three of these were CSG students - a remarkable achievement. As a Head of English, I’m very proud of the creativity of our students.
Florence was one of the two runners-up with her entry in response to Caleb Femi’s poem ‘Things I have Stolen’.
Things I have Caught
Primary school was rife
with colds and whispers and giggles.
We caught them all
and passed them round
like a rumour.
A summer of camps,
sports and sweat, and ice lollies
under the shade of a watchful oak.
A glorious moment when I caught the soaring ball
with one outstretched hand, and heard my name
cheered by a chorus of friends.
Years later I caught the tube
with my girlfriends. On the way to London Town
in a delicate summer, jeans and a jumper.
I caught his camera;
we must have caught his eye.
Amber’s house.
From the bottom step
light and content, I caught
a snippet of a whisper that slithered down
without the owners knowledge
and got caught in my brain.
And when my friend was slipping down,
down, each night I reached into that black hole
and caught his hand.
And now each day I catch the train,
I wear a mask
to keep out the cold.
Florence’s Commentary:
Caleb Femi writes in this poem about being a young black, working class kid in the UK, and the challenges that come with that. The first few stanzas paint such a vivid picture of childhood, particularly childhood in London, and feel reminiscent in an almost comforting way. It is this that first drew me to the poem and made it so heartbreaking towards the end. His poem is a journey from youth to adulthood and it is reflected in the tone of his writing - from comedy to emotive and heartfelt description. In my response to his poem I explored my own experience as a young woman in London and my growth from innocence to experience. I started my poem at the age of 5 to 11, around the age that Femi begins his poem, and the age where children are still at their most innocent. The first two stanzas are, then, about the joys of being a child, and even if colds are something I didn’t want to catch, and I sometimes didn’t enjoy my sports camps, my memories of that time are positive ones. I therefore kept the beginning lighthearted. Similarly to Caleb Femi, I wanted to use the later stanzas to explore more important issues. For instance I mention harassment on public transport and mental illness, both issues that I know many young people face. In the last stanza I referenced Covid-19 as it has dominated so much of our lives for the past year and a half and it is something we have had to learn to accept and deal with. I think these things represent my development and growth and reflect the same journey in Femi’s poem in terms of my own experiences. I thought the play on the word ‘stolen’ was used beautifully throughout the poem, from stealing sweets, to hearts, to dignity and finally grief, and I used the word ‘caught’ to tell my own story in my response. I think the word being used throughout connected the narrative and the poem as a whole, and ultimately inspired me to write my own reflection with the same link.
Judge Kim Moore comments: My second runner-up is ‘Things I Have Caught’. This poet was inspired by Caleb Femi’s poem ‘Things I Have Stolen’. The poet pivots around and explores different connotations and ways of using the word ‘caught’ to create a moving portrayal of the highs and lows of growing up.
HIGHLY COMMENDED
Matilda with ‘Le crime de métro’
The tube train empties, leaving behind
a sleeping woman, squirming uncomfortably in a pair of scuffed heels.
I think of a woman in elegant green
with crimped black hair under a wide brimmed hat.
She is slumped against the window;
a six-inch stiletto buried deep in her neck.
Paris, the metro hastens on: 90 seconds from one stop to the next.
Laetitia Toureaux glides between
worker, wife and spy,
between jazz clubs, bals and cabarets;
drifting amongst clandestine companies
under veils of choking smoke.
No one enters or leaves my carriage
and so I contemplate the sleeping stranger in front of me.
Worlds away I imagine Laetitia Toureaux whispering
state secrets beneath a susurration of taffeta skirts,
double crossing lovers with deceptive smiles.
Beyond the brilliance of a bal musette
I ponder how a killer might enter and leave a tube train whilst remaining unseen.
The stranger stirs in her seat and begins to collect
a green jacket and unpick a tangle of headphones.
She cannot loosen the knots
so I give up on my favourite locked room mystery and follow
a listless crowd, settling into the commuter’s torpor
and wondering where all her secrets went.
COMMENDED
Caris with ‘17 bars for my 17th’
The door flung wide open- it’s the start of the evening
hugs and smiles all around, but inside I’m freaking,
bottles clink as they add up; the table is heaving
my nerves gulp it down and I’m finally speaking
to vague friends of friends, the first time I’m meeting.
Lights flash past in a haze, like my years gone by
my final year of freedom, so I throw my hands high
and my arms loop around the neck of some guy
swinging my hips - gotta live till you die.
Of the moment and the moments of then, I am thinking
but tears trickle down as I’m heaving and blinking
he twirls me around but I’m already sinking,
have to focus on me and how time is so fleeting
life is here and it’s now and I can’t find the meaning.
But I must get up, get a grip, stop seeking
for attention, just smile, like something you mean-
It is only once that you’re seventeen.
Angie Fearnside
Head of English