Stepney Words III
In 1971 teacher Chris Searle was sacked for publishing Stepney Words, a book of challenging poetry written by his students about their experiences of the world around them. The students were so outraged they went on strike and marched on Trafalgar Square, forcing the reinstatement of Mr Searle.
On 21st March 2017, Taris Gardiner, Muttaquin Miah and Tina Seleshe in Year 8 continued in the footsteps of the 1971 students, reading their own poems to an audience of parents and teachers in the theatre at Rich Mix, to mark the launch of Stepney Words III. Here are their poems:
Dreams For Me
When I have a dream,
All I can see,
Is me in my own fantasy,
Something I would swing from vines,
From trees.
Sometimes I would imagine myself
In a tight squeeze.
There is one thing reality can’t beat,
It’s a sensation,
Called imagination
This poem makes no sense
I feel myself in another world,
I eat something from the
Back of the fridge.
I eat mushrooms
That have gone off.
I have interest in
Nothing in life and yet
I eat again and again
There is no intelligence
in common sense.
by Muttaquin Miah
Poems
The words flow out so easily for some people
It’s just a natural thing
But everything I try hits a wall
I think something’s blocking me, it’s so high and tall
I can’t go over it
Or even around it
All the feelings I feel are deep inside
I can feel them building up
Like a fire with not flame
Sometimes I feel my mind will blow
Taking me to another place
A place I don’t know
Where is the world of words that I want to find?
Maybe it doesn’t exist
Or is it just too hard to find
by Tina Seleshe
Seeing a flame in the darkness
I feel its heat on my face
And on my hands.
I am drawn towards it
Like a fly to a light bulb.
The smell of burning wood
Fills my nostrils.
The smoke swirls out of control.
A burning sensation plays upon
My fingertips but it is welcome.
It feels quite blank.
I reach out.
The flames catch my clothes.
I feel nothing-
No pain.
The dance upon the cotton fabric
Moving fast up my arm.
It doesn’t smell nice.
Like an overpowering perfume
But worse
I am cloaked in flames.
I just stare at my arms.
Soon I will be nothing,
a pile of ash.
by Taris Gardiner
