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On Thursday 6th June, Ms. Morris took a group of our Year 8 students to St. Paul's Cathedral for the Young City Poets' Festival! This fantastic event celebrated the brilliant poetry produced by students from across the city.

Our talented students shared their powerful poems with a captivated audience, who were incredibly impressed by the creativity and skill displayed by our HAB poets. Angelina, one of our shining stars, said, "Today was nerve-wracking, but once I got on stage, I started to feel comfortable. The day really improved my confidence in public speaking, especially in front of strangers."

Participating in the Young City Poets project was a truly positive experience for our students, boosting their confidence and showcasing their talents. A huge thank you to the National Literacy Trust for organising such a wonderful project! Let's keep celebrating and nurturing our young poets at HAB!

 

Here are some examples of the marvellous poems by our year 8 Young City Poets...

Forever Tower Bridge by Lily

I am Tower Bridge 

Marvelous, 

Historic,  

Ancient,  

As most would describe me. 

 

I stand tall and tower, 

gears mangle and move. 

I watch as people pass by

gasping at my awfully spiffing beauty, 

I find it such a shame

that there’s all this “contemporary modernism” now, 

it just can’t live up to my greatness.  

 

I am Tower Bridge 

Old, 

Tired,  

Confused, 

As I would describe myself. 

I have witnessed many things,

but I have never truly adjusted. 

I don’t think I’ll ever understand new technology, 

or new music, 

or anything new at all. 

I want to go back to how things used to be,

burning coal in clouding furnaces. 

I refuse to believe in so called “pollution”,

it’s honestly ridiculous. 

 

I am Tower Bridge, 

Marvelous, 

Tired, 

And forever standing. 

 

 

Tower Tingz by Angelina

What you man saying? 

I’m Tower Bridge 
But the mandem call me TBtrappy 

 

Lemme not lie, I’m a young yute still, 

But I haven’t been able to live my life. 

I get bored easily 

Watching you man link your tings 

Walking over me like I’m nothing. 

 

But I’ll be so real 

It’s not that deep though 

Cuz the gyaldem love me 

Always taking pictures of me 

I’m just leng like dat 

You man should get like me still. 

 

London Bridge could never though. 

He’s a meady yute 

A neek 

An op 

A complete wasteman 

He don’t get no gyal whatsoever 

And he just be giving bare verbs. 

Always saying how I beg it 

How I always think I’m on badness 

But to be fair 

He’s right. 

 

I’m forced to be like this, 

To keep my name high innit 

Can’t let them see my true and gloomy colours 

But I’m not on that emo nonsense,

so lemme not say too much. 

 

 

Lost, Not Found by Mercy

Surrounded by South Londoners for all this time, 

Now I’m all covered in grime, 

I feel so misunderstood, 

I would break down if I could, 

But I cannot disappoint,

my family,

my community,

the people of South.

 

I’ve known them for more than a century, 

Bermondsey has been my home. 

So why do I feel so unknown? 
I’ve tried to be their friend, 

So why do they treat me so badly… 

Again. Again and again.

 

I’ve been fuelled by coal, 

It wasn’t healthy for my soul, 

But I got through it, 

Now I renew my mind, 

I see people love, 

I want that feeling too, 

But I feel like no one loves me, 

Not even the sky that’s blue.

 

I want to be wanted, 

I want to be known, 

But I feel so neglected, 

So sad and alone.