Below is a poem from one of the three runners-up in our recent competition with IdeasTap. George Meredith is sixteen years-old, lives in Rochester, Kent and is currently studying for his A-Levels. Enjoying acting, music and writing he cites himself as relatively new to writing poetry, and with such a developed voice for someone so young – he seems to veer almost naturally towards presenting a universal experience in a new and interesting way – we hope he continues to push this talent further; we can't wait to see more from him in the future.
A rain streaked window on the M25
It’s a race you see.
Water against water,
Droplets from the shudder of the windscreen wiper
struggling, until they are pulled back by the inevitable sweep across the screen.
There is no winner.
You look past it, out
to the dreary road ahead.
It’s not always been so dull. Not last time
when there was a dusting of snow among the trees,
or half term before that when the road was littered with a sea of leaves or further still
when it was two hundred degrees,
and the landscape glistened in the sun.
Through all these journeys one feeling is common,
more the inexplicable knot of headphones in your pocket
than the knot in the bow of your laces –
the knot you had made yourself.
It’s the service station, halfway between his house and hers.
And then another car, another windscreen, another raindrop race.
The exit of the services, one car right towards home,
the other left towards home also,
and you split,
teetering uncertain.
A drop almost makes it to the bottom of the glass.
There is no winner.