An invitation to
all young poets

Henry Lister
Poem: Future School

I was walking into future school,
When I spotted something super cool,
T’was a robot that I could see,
That had many buttons on its knee,
It had secret gadgets everywhere,
Even in its fake, black hair!
I was walking into future school,
When I spotted something super cool,
It was a very big hologram,
Of a teacher called Mr Sam,
He could move, listen and talk,
Even though he was from York.
I was walking into future school,
When I spotted something super cool,
It was a humungous, towering skyscraper,
And my classroom looked like it was made of paper,
It was on the 100th floor,
With the dark blue, wonky door.
That was my first journey to future school.

Sana Mahmood
Poem: Work hard, dream big and never give up

Come to Mill Hill it’s the place to be,
Self-confidence is the key.
You’ll never feel alone,
You’ll discover something you haven’t known.
You’ll always be yourself no matter what people say,
You’ll have some time to play,
No-one can change you, so just be yourself!
Although they’re not your parents,
They care for you each day.
They help you as you struggle,
Praise your accomplishments in every way.
No, they’re not your parents,
But their role is just as strong,
On your graduation day all stand and cheer to
honour you,
For all the work you’ve done!
Be yourself,
One day you will inspire others to learn,
Don’t worry about your looks just worry about
your health.
Try your best, don’t give up,
No matter what others say.
Someday you’ll shine as bright as the sun,
If you work hard, dream big and never give up!

Maxi Pitton
Poem: “The right of Education”

School for my peers and I, is a safe place
We can express ourselves and be given space
The football pitch is a place we love to go
The playground is where we let the conversation flow
The classroom we learn, we converse, we discover
Our favourite subjects we like to assist each other
Everyone should have the right to an education
Otherwise the world remains in a place of stagnation
I look forward to the time when we can say as a nation
That every child in the entire world is entitled to an education

Claudia Wright
Poem: Knowledge is…

Knowledge is like a chocolate bar, I take a nibble.
School is a sweet shop, where I try new flavours.
Delicious.
There are so many to choose from.
Because I have five periods in the day, not one
(Otherwise school would be way shorter)
Knowledge is like music, I sing a new note everyday
School is an orchestra, teachers conducting.
Rhythm.
There are so many instruments
I find it hard to hear sometimes
(But sometimes I’m not listening).
Knowledge is like a good meal, I devour it
School is a farm growing crops to eat.
Nutritious.
There are so many fields of veggies
I love our yummy dinners
(But sometimes I slip bits to the dog).
Knowledge is like toys and I love to play
School is a toy factory where they make the fun
Joyful.
There are so many games

Anica Tahsin
Poem: Hikari

Frustration. Hard-work. Procrastination. Growth.
Explanation. Understanding. Acceptance.
Education has made me who I am,
And will form the future me. But
I hate explaining the same people that I
deserve that right.
Having to hear that I am lucky,
Privileged,
A coloured, girl
getting a free education
So many dream to have.
I am lucky
That I am not sweeping chimneys,
Or someones wife.
Nor do I have her ‘haunted eyes’.
I am lucky
That I can build on my weaknesses
To show others I can fight.
I am lucky
but I am not happy.
There is still more to be done.
More to be fixed.
More people like you and me who deserve this. So,
what is education to me?
Education is the continuous struggle to reform, love and grow,
As a nation, as a community, as individuals,
Because if we stop moving, we won’t be – the world will freeze over
hells gate will open
the harpies will screech.
We’ll be trapped in a cycle of hatred.
Education is drop of liquid light.

Jaria Mizra
Poem: Pursuit.EDU

My wisdom relies on a search engine
Which fails to answer but says,
The process of receiving or giving
Systematic instructions
Whoever would have guessed,
Analysing dead author’s texts, was systematic?
Whoever would have thought,
Art would be neglected
Since it wasn’t an instruction?
To wipe away my disquietude,
Mother said,
It was making an animal
Human.
Whoever would have seen the notion,
Of us being superior
Because we ‘understood’
Yet, had hands, red with blood
As we wiped the existences of an ecosystem?
Father didn’t understand why I was disturbed,
Thus he said
It was the red bit inside a horse’s egg,
And for some wild reason my heart was silenced.
I shun them out,
For solely to me,
Education is answering the question,
Whom am I?
So I commend you
On the pursuit of finding
What it means to you
Because for once
There is no mark scheme.