Poet Laureates

For the Queen's Platinum Jubilee, Lilia Stone (our lovely KS3 Poet Laureate) has written a poem in honour of the historical event. In addition, all the Poet Laureates have written one final poem for you all. They were given the title 'Reflection' but no guidance. Lilia has reflected on her first year at Towers School. Lois and Caelyn have run with the theme and explored self-love and self-acceptance.

The Queen’s Platinum Jubilee


KS3 Poet Laureate - Lilia Stone


February 6 1952 we had a new Queen

Televised coronation that many had seen

She wore the crown


In 1964 the passing civil rights acts

African American citizens had their access to public space back

She wore the crown


July 20 1969 the first man on the moon

The Queen watched in the afternoon

She wore the crown


1979 first female prime minister Margaret thatcher

For 11 years she worked closely alongside her

She wore the crown


1989 the World Wide Web was created

The world of technology updated

She wore the crown


South Africa’s first black president Nelson Mandela in 1994

He got his title after the collapsing of apartheid a couple of years before

She wore the crown


London 2012 the summer Olympic Games

The Queen announce the start as they held up the flame

She wore the crown


UK leave the EU 23 June 2016

52% vote to leave it was all witnessed by the Queen

She wore the crown


23 march 2020 we went into lockdown

Shops closed masks all around

She wore the crown


1952 her reign begins

And now we are 70 years in

And she still wears her crown.

Reflection


KS3 Poet Laureate - Lilia Stone

Term 1,

I take my first steps through the school gates,

To see all the teachers each with a smile on their face.

New friends to make round every turn,

Knowledge waiting in classrooms ready to be learned.


Term 2,

Getting to grips with the way of the school,

Remembering all the new rules.

First assessment week with christmas in sight,

People working hard, ready to write.


Term 3,

It feels like we’ve been here forever,

Sitting in our chairs happier than ever.

Everything has now settled down,

We know the school site - in and around.


Term 4,

Over half way with easter at the end,

Pushing through the term, laughing with our friends.

Learning lots of new things,

As the first flowers show spreading signs of spring.


Term 5,

Revision, revision, revision- end of year test.

Everyone is working hard trying their best.

Preparing for term 6 when they start,

English, Maths, Drama and Art.


Term 6,

Nearing the end coming to the summer holidays,

Last few weeks counting down the days.

Awards evening people congratulated,

The end of school everyone elated.



KS4 Poet Laureate - Lois Knight

When you look at yourself in a mirror

What do you see?

Do you see you,

or a stranger looking back at you?

When you look at yourself in the mirror

Do you feel strong or weak?

When you look at yourself in the mirror

are you yourself, and do you love you?

When you look at yourself in the mirror

Who are you? Why are you here?

Yet the answer is near,

You’re strong and powerful,

Brave and kind,

Loving and most importantly,

Uniquely you.

So please love yourself,

And step away from that mirror.



KS5 Poet Laureate - Caelyn Walshe

BMI

Seventeen years staring at a photoshop

Canvas plastered into the mirror of the women online I've seen.

Gapped thighs, tight waists, small nose, flat stomach and smooth skin,

Even though the images on television and the stories on social media

We're nothing more than a circus of face paint and digital scrubbing.

The standard was set. One that we have all, both women and men, falling far from clean.


Scrolling down the page, you can only see the

Photos and videos of heavily produced lies,

The hours of filming. The days of editing. The hours of makeup. The money on photoshop.

I start each day with my bare feet cold on scales, looking past myself to see the numbers, not who I would be within.

The scales would flicker both up and down. Each day i spend my mornings finding an outfit which masks my belly

I wish somebody had told me when i was younger that all bodies aren’t the same,

Flash girl models riding on beauty magazines

Were the product of cryogenic morphing through pixel syringes.

Each day i walk two hours to school then two hours home to try to lose those extra pounds,

Each evening I spent counting my diet and chasing the calories away.


Fifty-six pounds is what I have lost since feeling the consciousness of my natural body

Wrap around my patterns in waking and slumbering life.

The change was great to those who noticed.

However, my tummy still pushes against my fabrics,

My nose is still hooked and my eyes are still hung heavy in the purple

Enemies of my early attempts to lose such shape.

Fifty-six pounds may have gone but as a seventeen year old girl, why am I ashamed of my body?


Old men in bodily corporations cashing in on body issues,

Cashing in on girls like me.

When we hold ourselves to such standards, who will we really be?

Little girls need to look at the doctors.

The astronauts, judges and queen

Disney did not let the princess be a girl like you or me

And barbie never wanted anything other than a diamond ring

From a golden guy who lives in Hollywood

So she could be his lovey dove slave.

Ken never ever loved barbie,

He loved the plastic desperate look.


So why can they control our dreams?


What you don’t see behind the posts

Those wicked tricks and lighting hoaxes.

Those girls online spend hours a time

Plumping and powdering their cheeks,

Their outfits cost more than the meals they endure

Living off mummy and daddy for rent.

Tucking their tummies into their corsets or starving themselves until dry.


I never thought that I was much like Barbie. She was not a girl like me.

I’m seventeen studying science, not seventeen hours from surgery.

Never really wanted Ken and he would never want a girl like me.

A girl who knows the difference between the body and the brain.

Ken only ever loved Barbie for the blonde curls in her hair. Ken never really loved Barbie.

But we could never be Barbie. We’re far too human for that.


You live naturally and as you wish to be.

My body is mine to change or remain or seventeen years I have felt ugly wriggling in my own skin,

Only we can decide when we are happy.

Your body is yours and yours only to frame.


Because sweetheart, let me tell you.

No two bodies look the same.