Imogen, one of our very talented Y10 students has been announced as a winner of the prestigious Simon Powell Poetry Prize 2026. Imogen decided to enter the competition after her school trip to Poetry Live earlier this year. The competitions is open to the thousands of students who attend the nationwide touring event and 10 winners are selected from the entries. The winners selected to read their work on the same stage as the published poets.
The competition has run for more than twenty years and is named after a man who championed new poetry and young people writing. In addition to the prestige, Imogen will receive a collection of books from the Poetry Live poets, as well as an invitation to read at one of next year’s Poetry Live events. She will be performing her poem on the same stage as published poets and in front of an audience of thousands.
An additional prize is for Imogen to attend a poetry workshop hosted by poets Daljit Nagra and Imtiaz Dharker, which will be taking place at The Barbican in July.
The renowned poet, Daljit Nagra, said of Imogen’s poem:
“a short, compact and moving poem about a child who was once held by the father, and how that father once drove a car around as a way of putting the child to sleep. A poem of loss, of anguish, ‘I still sleep better on car journeys – he will no longer hold me.’ The poem holds you!”
We are so proud of Imogen – entering her first national competition and emerging as a winner was an extraordinary triumph. Imogen’s English teachers are thoroughly impressed by her ever emerging talents and achievements. It’s been quite an end of year for Imogen as she was recently selected to be the Prefect responsible for Chairing the Student Council.
Headlights through Closed Eyes
my father; a Solidity, a Presence,
hauls me – phosphenes imprinted onto my lids –
gently from the boosted backseat
and carries me from the dark to the light
and the warmth sheltering inside
No. 1 with the green door
the sky lingering after me, whispering static
through our doorway into our house.
there must have been a final time he placed me into my cot;
a night he last let me go after I’d surrendered to the sound of turn signals.
ten years later, I will be told only his arms or a drive could rock me to sleep.
I still sleep better on car journeys – he can no longer hold me.
