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NEWS

When all this is over

As we begin to see more pupils in school again and as we continue to plan for September, we are daring to hope that some semblance of normal school life might be around the corner. Members of staff have continued to be inspired by pupils’ work and by the ways in which they have harnessed their creativity during this challenging period. Entries for Mr Cady’s film competition have been flooding in and the team of judges will be meeting to review these next week.
 
This has been a phenomenal year for student journalism at Wilson’s with the advent of the Intrigue (science magazine) and the Politeia (politics and current affairs). Dozens of pupils have also been involved in the Young Reporter scheme and we are delighted that both Nicholas and Kinshuk (both Year 11) have been named among the winners of this year’s programme. Furthermore Aaron G (Year 11) has been commended in the English and Media Centre’s competition, ‘Turned’, with his outstanding play script (available to view on the EMC website).
 
The poetry competition has continued and this week’s poems are particularly touching as they capture the hopes and excitement for our pupils for a time when they can be reunited with people who are dear to them. The poems are inspired by Linnet Drury’s poem “Note”, which begins  “When all this is over…” There have been poems about family members such as grandparents and siblings, about school friends who have been sorely missed, and a number which are about the pleasure and enjoyment of playing sport and other school activities. Wilson’s boys have written with honesty and openness about their relationships with others, and perhaps this is why the poems are so moving to read. A small selection of the poems is available below.

The Match

by A.T. (7G)
When this is all over
I’m going to run to the end of the street
Till it turns into the cricket pitch
Where I know you will be waiting.
I’m going to dart till the end of the net,
Furnished and eager. Bat and ball in hand.
Where I know you will be ardent.
 
To relish the joy. The competitiveness.
For yesteryear. To avail ourselves of this freedom.
Yet we will still try and outclass each other
Though we both can predict the outcome.
To finish the match we once started,
The match that will never end.
 
Judge’s comment: I loved this poem for its evocation of the joy of sport with a friend. The image of the street turning into a cricket pitch captured the way in which sports and friendship can make time and the environment feel infinite. The poem has a lovely hopeful tone but still acknowledges the disruption to friendships that has resulted from our enforced separation from each other. This is a poem to remember when we are lucky enough to see boys enjoying sport and friendship on the school fields again.
 

Discovery

by V.V. (7S)
When all this is over,
We can open the closed door,
Separating us from the outside world,
Like a bear being revealed to the world after hibernation.
 
When all this is over,
We can take to the skies,
Discovering new lands, cultures and ethnics,
Like when Columbus discovered the New World,
Or when Franklin discovered electricity.
 
When all this is over,
We can go to the harbour and set sail,
Hunting for undiscovered treasure,
The same as Blackbeard did years ago,
On the mighty seas.
 
When all this is over,
We can finally open pitches.
Battling it out with a ball and bat,
Like how lions use their teeth and claws (playfully),
 
When all this is over,
We can finally be freed.
 
Judge’s comment: V’s poem is really carefully structured with a repeated first line and a sense of expansion in each stanza. I loved the title – “Discovery” could mean the discovery of new lands or the rediscovery of old pleasures. In some ways this poem reminded me a little of the excitement of learning, because V has used stories and knowledge from books and from school to capture the excitement of life re-starting.
 

Long Gone

by I.R. (7G)
When all this is over, I am hoping,
to meet you above the sky’s limit where I will fly
above like a dove and carol
to the clouds as if I was tiny raindrop in a mighty ocean.
 
I’m wishing that my soul will be so light I can’t feel myself
gliding up and effortlessly coming up to you so
the wisdom and your luck embrace me like a
blanket. Glancing up at the Sapphire bed
 
will ponder my thoughts of when
I used to be like the sun, now heading west.
I believe your powers of magic will feel.
Why did you say Good Night
 
when it was still evening, and we were to have dinner? I still think and think.
By the time the Gloomy shade has set over me,
it’ll be a new day, brilliant for destroying my worries.
We’ll enjoy the fruits of heaven and
when I wither away, you’ll do your best to
 
Guide me to the star — you.
 
Judge’s comment: I’s poem is, to use his words, “soulful”. His writing is spiritual and ambitious. More abstract than some of the other entries, he chooses to explore feelings of freedom and compansionship through the metaphor of flying.

Note to a friend

by I.R. (7D)
When all this is over, I hope 
To meet you in the park where I’ll bring
My bags and smile with you
And not break a glance as if I’m studying a dense page of work.
 
I’ll stare until we finally conclude that 
It is real.
We are actually seeing each other
After 6 months.
 
And the weather will remind me of how
Wonderful being outside felt.
I didn’t need to distance,
I didn’t need to return as soon as I can.
  
The trees will watch over us 
As we see each other,
And I will finally be able to ask…
Do you want to play.

Judge’s comment: I loved I’s poem for its simple evocation of a day in the park with a friend. The last line is very moving, and I also was impressed by his idea that the trees watched over the friends. It seemed like nature was protecting them at the end of this poem.
 

When I See

by S.M. (7G)
When all this is over I will go
back to the free life I loved
me and my brother at the centre of
all attention and love
given in many ways like
gifts toys and more.
We will be the ones
that will have power
the power of perfection
and the power of affection.
When all this is over,
we will travel to many
people and places
where what we want will
be right there.
When all this is over I will see
everyone I missed
When all of this will be over
I will live in a place,
which for me…
perfection will be

Perfect. 

When all of this is over

by K.N. (7D)
Hours turn to days and days turn to months before I will see you again.
Though the distance between us is a lot, I long for you.
The aroma of your palatable food will be missed.
Oh how I miss you ever so much and this feeling will be hard to handle.
 
I will dream about the times we spent together.
I will not be able to see you as you are stranded abroad.
I will be waiting forever to welcome you
yearning for your safe return amid the pandemic havoc,
 
But as each day passes I will be left with false hope,
as the travel controls are getting tighter.
I begin to become independent, unknowingly and transform into a better person.
There will always be a tired dirge of silence in the house.
 
Everyday will be repetitive and tedious.
There will be no entertainment, laughter and silly fights as it usually would.
When all of this is over, I will leap up with content,
I will tell you how I have become independent
 
And I will hug you tightly as if you’re the only person that mattered in the world.
The house will be no longer dull and grey but instead with bright colours.
The days will be filled with amusement instead of mundane
And become more fun.

You will have me

by S.D. (9H)
When all this is over, 
I will savour, every step, I take towards you 
I’ll stare, mesmerised, at the soft and playful curving lines spread across your face 
And enjoy the rhythmic cadence of your heartbeat.  
 
When all this is over, 
I will feel myself comforted, in the net, that you have captured me with 
I’ll embrace my existence, as a ring, on your many fingers 
And marvel at the aquatic fluidity of your movements.  
 
When we have weathered this storm,  
I will face your fickle temper, changing like the wind 
I’ll listen to the sweet swish of your hair, blowing in that wind 
And find solace in you from the perilous test that life has now, been.  
 
And as I will take that first shot, 
I’ll hear those sounds that drive me insane 
I’ll feel all 
The pain of the separation ebb away... 
 
And I’ll sail on your boat of hope, to the golden shores of the NBA.

Judge’s comment: This poem is also about the joy of sport – I wonder is that one of the things that Wilson’s boys have missed the most. S’s poem is so clever in that he draws such a specific and detailed extended metaphor of a basketball which is then only fully revealed in the final line. The “rhythmic cadence of your heartbeat” is such a great description of the thud of the basketball that I could almost hear it echoing around the Sports Hall as I read the poem. Well done, S.
 

When all this is over

by U.J. (10S)
When all this is over, we’ll meet in a restaurant,
We'll recline in our seats like royals at a banquet
And request for delicacies lost from memory and
Savour every bite as if it is our last.
 
We’ll sit on our trusted bench in our park
And whine about the tediousness and monotony of
Life now, and shed light on the darkest moments
Of these dark days during these dark times.
 
We’ll perch on your sofa together and stream the games,
Like crows restlessly waiting to spot their prey,
The false hope of potential sightings misleading us until
One finally emerges to our utmost delight.
 
Summer will have arrived, a reward for our suffering.
We’ll ride our bikes up and down the hills like knights on horses
With the breeze stroking our face, as we attempt to rid ourselves
Of the inevitable blubber we have amassed over the weeks.
 
We’ll make new memories while
We vanquish the old, as we return to how life used to be,
These few months being a momentary, yet valuable pause in our lives,
Because what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
 
Judge’s comment: U.J. created some very memorable images here. My particular favourite is the crows on the sofa streaming the games together! An unforgettable description of the hunched physical form of a gamer which also evokes the alertness and tension of a boy engrossed in a video game. And I couldn’t help but be amused by his description of the “inevitable blubber”!
 

When this is over

by B.X. (11H)
When this is over, I will be born, alighting
from the orifices of my house, spewing out like a stream escaping
a sewer, a tumultuous journey ahead.

Animals swim by me: a shoal of glittering fish, reflecting
a multitude of colours off
their smoothened scales; birds
swooping down, patterning my expressionless surface;
armoured crustaceans scuttle
along beneath me, creating little waves with every movement.

I commingle with other streams, joining in a rushing tide,
scrapped items and sewage scraped
away by the rocky bed, bloating every crevice with our
presence, leaving
watery waste after we wash away.

We surge up to a fortress of steel and stone, pipes exploding
out from the
mass like a cancerous octopus, and to our suspended disbelief
we trickle into the prison, like
mackerel before a whale, my identity subsumed in the
collective mass – dull fish and graceless birds distorting my turbulent waves.

From below there is a rumbling, shaking the surface and a gaping
maw widens and with a
rush of fear or anticipation or excitement or desperation or
anxiety or purposefulness or desire or hope all at once we hurdle towards the gate..

A sign.

Adorned upon an abode above, a cloth materialises before my
eyes. Casting a
desperate look up my mind fumbles to comprehend the legend it bares:
‘Kenley Water Treatment Plant.’

With fear or anticipation or excitement or desperation or anxiety
or purposelessness or desire or hope,
I struggle out of the whirlpool. Disillusioned, I tear my eyes from
the gaping maw, I
refuse to be a product, to be used, to be discarded, but
it is fruitless.

I am too late.

Enlightened, I try to resist – futile.
Resigned, I stay slackened, dragged into the swirling vortex
with all the others.

When this is over, when I have been packaged and sold, used and
discarded, I will be born, spewing back into the river
like horses bursting from their stables.

Into the racetrack.
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