CREATIVE WRITING The summer term saw the welcome return of the Staveley Poetry Prize.
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istinguished judge, Prof. Peter Robinson, poet, critic and academic, selected winners in the three age categories and awarded the prizes at the awards ceremony in Skinners’ Library. The prize celebrates the importance of creative and original thought and is named after the highly regarded poet and English teacher, Tom Staveley. Prof. Robinson commended all the entries he had received. Overall winners were George Pearson (SH1) who won the Novi Prize, Ben Adams (OH2) who won the Intermediate Prize, and Matt Smith (JH4) who won the Senior category.
Senior Winning Poems
Commenting on George Pearson’s Racket Prof. Robinson noted how the poem created a ‘magic’ out of the simplest of objects, enabling the reader to see a familiar thing in new and vivid ways. On Ben Adams’ If only you had seen under the folds Prof. Robinson admired the tight and efficient form, noting how this intensified the emotional impact of this accomplished poem. He found Matt Smith’s Tunbridge Wells brilliantly inventive, creating powerful contrasts with wit to achieve a profound final piece. Prof. Robinson commented on how very important creative thought was, especially after the many challenges of lock-down and praised the students, department and school for championing imaginative writing in all of its forms. R H Evans
Tunbridge Wells | Matt Smith (JH4) – Overall Senoir winner When the Moon came to Calverley, I thought reality had failed me. When the stars fall from the sky, they land in Tunbridge Wells. The Moon turned off at 9pm and they took it down; that was the last we saw of it. I found bliss one day, lying on the wall by Calverley car park in the half term sunshine, a bittersweet symphony in my ears and my dirty white fashion trainers on my feet. Nobody spoke to me, nobody disturbed my reverie, I waited for my dad to come by in a car at 3.45. Tunbridge Wells is an area in decline, said Mr. Gripper, way back when. Gone are the days of pilgrimage to KFC with my friend James, now the food court has nothing but a Subway. Someone has chiselled an inscription into the Wellington Rocks. There are peace signs there, but no Swastikas. The inscription reads: A C I D. The Nazi stickers in the public toilets have been replaced by trippy drawings. On the way in from Southborough, a Confederate flag used to hang from a council flat balcony. Now it is no more. Were you aware the bowling green here is of world class quality? We write letters of moral outrage to the conservative papers, so that Middle England gets its just representation, we’ve had over a hundred years of royal status. I find inner peace watching the skaters fail to land tricks off the pavement. By Calverly carpark, on a summer’s day, life is good. The skateboarders remind me that failure is transitory. Everything comes back to Calverley Park.
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