Young Writer’s Collective
The Young Writer’s Collective is part of Ledbury Poetry Festival’s programme which seeks to provide cultural enrichment to the most vulnerable groups in our society. The group has continued to meet and make work throughout the pandemic using WhatsApp to stay connected with each other. Every month they share their writing on a theme set by practitioner Toni Cook.
These poems are in response to the theme ‘Point of View, living in Herefordshire’.
My Point of View
You are the passenger and I am the driver,
you get an experience; I am the survivor.
You can get out this car whenever you want,
I have to endure this ride because get out I can’t.
You can buckle yourself up and not feel a thing,
but I have no seat belt, I feel everything.
Every pothole, every rock,
I feel it all and endure the knock.
My foot is always on the accelerator,
there’s nothing I want more than to just to stop and appreciate her.
There are no signs as to what lies ahead,
it’s all a surprise, some good but most bad instead.
And with my foot on the gas,
those good moments, so fast they pass.
And yet traveling 100 miles per hour,
those harsh moments taste so long and so sour.
I wish I could draw myself a break,
and save myself from the heartache.
The heartache that is not caused by you,
but as I approach a sharp corner, everything good is from view.
The crash that’s about to happen to me,
is coming and so inevitably,
I am stuck in this ride that isn’t so fun,
I don’t shout to go faster I scream for it to shun.
I travel alone so to minimise the casualties,
because this crash that will happen will bring you to your knees.
So just run, like the rest,
it’s only for the best.
That I am alone,
because I am so crash prone.
By Ellie Matthews-Taylor
I came from the concrete jungle to a small town with no soul
Hopeless and bare
But in between the cracks there was more life
Life of the lost
Life of the pain
Life of the abuse and drugs
Don’t look to closely at the cracks
You’ll get pulled right in
Making the cracks bigger and bigger
Until it’s another concrete jungle
By Jess Strachan
The Countryside is where I call home
Memories I hold at heart
The fields I used to roam
I never thought we could be apart
Tractors and the farm animals
Filling the barn with hay bales
The crazy shenanigans
With horse riding on trails
The winter preparation
Cutting and filling a whole barn with logs
Moving the animals into the barn there all fluffy and unshaven
Chores still need to be done but I know the farm like the back of my hand blind from the fog but that won’t stop me.
I am in love with the countryside
It’s so beautiful and it has such fresh air
I feel so free and I could never be bored
With lots of chore but more of all
I have room to explore.
By Kelsey White
Hereford is Home
Home is where the heart is,
Even if you move from place to place.
Riding your bike along the river,
Emptying your mind for a while.
Finding beautiful people within the cracks
Offering hope to those who have lost it.
Running away I have tried to do,
Don’t worry it didn’t last long.
Hereford will always be home,
Only I want to stay.
My beating heart belongs here
Even if I die…I will be buried in here.
By Jayme Carter
Main image by Rich Hankins