Teen Poetry Collection 2020/21

As part of the regular competitions, we received a large number of excellent poems from teens around the world. We have handpicked some of our favorites for this page and, where possible, also included audio of the poets reading their poetry. Taken together, these poems offer an interesting insight into the joys and challenges of teen life in 2020/21, and also highlight the talents of emerging teen poets. Occasionally, we have included poets who are younger where their poetry subject is one outside of the competition topic but is worthy of publication.

If you enjoy the poems below, you can also check out others poems we’ve received from around the world, including the winning poems from our Spring, Home, and Gratitude competitions; as well as over 150 kids’ poems written specially for our weekly podcast episodes.

“My Friend, Eddie” by Hana

A young girl, just 14, battling a problem we all know,
Sat crying in-front of the mirror next to her stick thin shadow.
All this going on and my mind’s just getting messier…
It’s just too hard when your own two parents can’t admit your best friends’ anorexia
Nervosa – composed to never tell anyone about my secret, which isn’t secret,
About my illness, which isn’t illness,
About my normal, which isn’t normal.

Complexity filled with the laxity and anxiety rushing in...
Pop, pop, pop the pills they prescribed stopping me from my sin.
But it leaks into my mind.
It intoxicates me with decline from the undefined expeditions of myself.

Got a stack of fake happiness waiting on the shelf
So, people don’t ask me the questions,
don’t have any misconceptions,
never force me into confession,
never realise my obsession with food.

But her voice was the only thing which mattered,
as everything else in my mind had shattered
until my body had finally flattered me
but then I was shunned by society for being ‘too skinny’; all I could see was fat.
And I was never going back to the old, repulsive,
disgusting overweight Hana...
I’m now the one that would cry if you asked me to eat a banana.

Strangling me with an ECG,
another blood test so they could see
if the damage to my body was major –
either that or make me up to be a failure of the meal plan they provided.
But I could only listen to the one-sided, misguided, presided voice in my head;
Doctors being scared I might drop dead
but I was okay, and they were lying, surely, I wasn’t dying?

I know it’s something I need to defeat
but shouting at me isn’t going to make me eat!
Claiming that I’m not trying
but on the inside my mind is dying in conflict:
I’m a calorie-counting addict.
And my anger is something I can’t control
and it’s not fair on you as you’re playing the role
of my parents who didn’t think anything was wrong.

But Eddie was too strong.

Yet hope is the only thing stronger than fear and
one day I’ll be able to walk down the street like a normal person.
Getting back to my prime!
“The table top is a place where’s warriors face their eating disorders one bite at a time.”
I can return to my lucid life one bite at a time.
I can beat my fake friend Eddie, one bite at a time.

“Should I Grow Up” by Turanya

Once came a thought,
"How can adult life be?"
Will it be good or
will it be frightening?
Then I thought,
should I grow up?
Let me ask someone and see.
I asked a friend:
a senior of mine.
I asked,
how is adult life?
He sulks up and says,
oh! it's bad,
it's boring and sad,
I think you are lucky,
but just wait and see.
I was disappointed:
is this adult life?
How bad it can be?
I think I need a view.
Then I found somebody,
a cousin of mine,
and asked the same.
He said,
it's cool,
it's nice,
you must check it out,
it's nice.
I am confused
what to do.
I think I should be chilling.
Adult life would be thrilling!

“When I Believed” by Asmita

I always doubted myself unceasingly.
Whatever I did was never enough.
I was boring, sad and ordinary.
And that's when the going got tough.

She is pretty, he is smart.
I am ugly, I am a fool.
She is funny, he is a work of art.
I am too feisty, I am so 'not cool'.

When was it that I dared to dream?
When was it that I dreamed to dare?
How is it that life isn't a sad scene?
Why did I think I am so rare?

Oh, there you are, Hope!
Losing sight of you for a while is probable.
Then again, I believed I was unstoppable.
And when you believe anything's possible.

“Hopes And Dreams” by Sneha

Sweet dreams, sassy thoughts.
I wanna become a lady boss.

Crystal clear, my hopes are high.
Oh don't dare to cage me,
it's my time to fly.

I wanna pay my own bills,
and a perfect life for my family.
And all this with a kind soul.
Isn't it lovely?

I hope to see women getting
equity more that equality.
With more respect
and reduced display of frivolity.

Dreams of a prudent life,
heart high with hopes.
And for this,
I'm ready to climb any ropes.
Mind it, I'm not scared of any slopes.

If you think women are weak,
dear, you need a mental floss.
Because, sweet dreams, sassy thoughts,
there are girls out there
who wanna become a lady boss.

“Do You Know?” by Akubueze

Do you know the home has been OK
since the day that you left?
No fighting amongst siblings.
The home has been OK,
and OK has been the home.

Do you know the home has been more fun
since they day you left?
Everyone is co-operating.
The home has been more fun,
and more fun has been the home.

Do you know the home has been filled with joy
since the day you left?
No one cry, let alone weep.
The home has been filled with joy,
and filled with joy has been the home.

It is all a lie,
all I have said.
The home has not been OK
since the day you left.
Just problem upon problem.
The home has not been more fun
since the day you left.
Just a complete boredom.
The home has not been filled with joy
since the day you left.
Just sad and sorrowful.

The home is a complete disaster
since the day you left, Mum.
You left leaving a big vacuum
with no one to fill it in.
The home has not been like it used to,
and it has not even been like a home, Mum.

RIP MUM

“Death’s Cigarettes” by Cienna

I never believed that death can haunt me.
I still don’t believe it because,
instead of haunting,
it visits me.
It tells me what to do.
But, at night, it watches me
while I watch it bring its death stick in between its lips
and blow the smoke out all around the room.
That’s why, at night, it smells like cigarettes,
but by morning, it smells like death.

“Leaving Home” by Akubueze

I have always thought that leaving home
was the best decision to make.
I left all I had, and all who had me,
thinking I could feel and live a true life.
But leaving home was the wrong decision I have
ever made.
Because it's like moving from rich to poor,
from better to worse, and from worse to worst.

I saw people leaving home and coming back OK,
and I thought it would be the same for me.
But I found out later that
leaving home is a complete vanity upon vanity,
because you have a 50-50 chance of succeeding and failing,
which I was ambushed by,
and I began to say had I known.

Leaving home is like watching a foreign movie,
but without no subtitles,
because you get to see what's happening,
but don't seem to understand nor get what's
happening.
With this I realised that there is no place like home,
and need to be fully prepared
for the ups and downs of leaving home.

Leaving home changes you inside out,
because you left a known place to an unknown place.
Thus, turning you from citizen to an alien.
Like I learned that there is no place like home.
I learnt leaving home is a big deal,
which you have to deal with,
or have it deal with you.

“My Home, My Soul” by Amna

They say that the home is where the heart is;
but it's where my soul resides:
when I'm not here on this very fabric of my mattress,
is when my body recklessly divides
into pieces that I cannot find.

When my ears don't dance along to the chirpy choir,
is when I know I've left my soul, my home -
you can start to call me a liar,
but when these familiar air particles roam
and fail to to meet my skin gracefully
is when I realise, painfully
that I have abandoned my soul.

Now, I can't forget the sound of my siblings' footsteps
following the soft, striking scent of my mum's scrumptious artwork.
Nor the giggles of my siblings when taunting...
Yes, it may be annoying, but it's haunting
to never again witness it -
for my soul would never permit,
or with my heart, it would ruthlessly split;
and I, it will never forgive.

So I would shamefully sit under that gentle tree outside which witnessed me grow.
And despite being merciful, that same green giant would decide to not provide
me shade for leaving my soul, which cries,
as it resides,
at the place I could no longer call my home...