By Danielle Potts It’s been a fair few weeks and Hannah’s back again She survived the nuclear bomb but the world is not so zen I’m really not sure how she escaped that deadly nuclear blast The Earth’s now a wreck and the humans… she’s one of the last When… Read more: Prospect of Survival

Summer carnivals. The place I truly found myself, after all, I’ve been going to them ever since I was born. They attract me, like a fly drawn to light, but the last one I went to, is where I truly felt alive.                                                       As I said before, I’ve been going to… Read more: Summer Carnivals

He smiles as I pick a petal from his ear, from the daisy upon it, as it gently grazes the grass we lie upon. The clouds slowly open like the gates of heaven, the sunlight floating through and landing on his hair, giving it a golden sheen. I look at… Read more: Summer

A summer’s day in 2050, Hannah needs supplies  London’s as hot a Barcelona and the heat’s still on the rise.  Wiping the sweat from her brow, Hannah steps outside  Sees some kids up on the street (‘My God! They look fried!’)  Upon reaching our future shops, Hannah enters smoothly  Takes… Read more: Summer’s Day, 2050

As I wait in the airport for my plane to arrive,  Off on my holidays, summer’s finally here,  Picking up my staircase, never felt so alive,  After so many hours of endless cloud, land is near!  Finally landed and the heat hits my face,  Seeing the yellow, sandy beach,   Running… Read more: The Summer of My Dream

A Sunday afternoon  At my grandma’s kitchen table  As she retells me her memories  From her youth in Jamaica   Youngest of seven  Surrounded by family, land and sun  Left when she was seventeen   As I am now  Listening to her recollect her best times  The village was hers  Surrounded by… Read more: A Sunday Afternoon

If I look into the mirror in 20 years time, Would I see the same face looking back at me? Or would her face be distorted, with no reason nor rhyme? Would that girl see what I see? Dear future self, how do you do? Are you the same as… Read more: Poetry Competition Entry #6

Hello to myself I hope we are well, Please don’t tell me that we still dwell; On those friends –you remember- who tore us apart, Those friends –you remember- who shattered our heart. Never mind that for now we’re mature I’m sure there were more things we’ve had to endure;… Read more: Poetry Competition Entry #5

Dear my future self – the future me. Is this where you envisioned you’d be? All those ifs, buts and maybes, Were they really worth the energy? I have faith in who you’ve become, All the pain and struggles now numb. So go ahead and chase those dreams, I’m sure… Read more: Poetry Competition Entry #4

Hey there, future me, Are we happy, Wherever we’ve ended up? How’s the job? Did we achieve our dream? Was it everything we hoped it’d be? Sorry about all the questions. It seems like I’m pressuring you a lot But you know I’m curious. Sorry. It’s not fair that you’re… Read more: Poetry Competition Entry #3

Growing up is learning that there are the four seasons; It is learning that life breathes in, and life breathes out, That the Sun herself wakes and then sleeps, That each leaf unfurls, and then withers, That the clouds themselves dance on an empty canvas If only for a delicately… Read more: Poetry Competition Entry #2

I WRITE THIS TO ME IN TEN YEARS’ TIME AND WONDER IF MY TRUTHS REMAIN. DO I STILL REACH TOWARDS THE SUNSHINE? DOES MY LAUGHTER RIPPLE IN THE RAIN? I HOPE YOU KNOW, DEAR FUTURE SELF, IF YOUR PASSION IS ALL YOU PURSUE, SO LONG AS LOVE FLOWS THROUGH EACH… Read more: Poetry Competition Entry #1

WINNER OF THE POEMS TO YOUR FUTURE SELF COMPETITION! Growing up is learning that there are the four seasons; It is learning that life breathes in, and life breathes out, That the Sun herself wakes and then sleeps, That each leaf unfurls, and then withers, That the clouds themselves dance… Read more: Transitoire

By Mia Bains (18mbains@wghs.org.uk) To enter a poem for this theme e-mail t.dawkins16@wghs.org.uk When I think of you,I think in two ways;Firstly cold and impassive,Abstract from the realities of my future lifeSecondly hot and protective,My future life flits between my fingersLike elusive threads of gold,Far too fragile for my callous… Read more: When I think of you

I am lost within and lost without This identity of mine That I seek beyond me And seek foolishly Years of learning to love Books and films and music And language with no borders Only to realise my heart is some hoarder’s Who hoards all she loves Into a mind… Read more: Without Doubt

How’s the job, future me?   No school, no exams, no teachers I’m struggling to hear, Whether it be in a lab, a lectern, or our own little bakery: Simply happy and free, on 60K a year. Think of what we’d do with that, All the bonny things we’ll buy. That… Read more: The Beautiful Things