Everyone a Writer 2026 - 'Home'
This year marks thirteen years of the 'Everyone a Writer' competition, which was set up in 2012 with one simple idea - that anyone, whatever their age and experience, can be a writer. Alongside entries from Meadowhead students, there is also work by students of Abbey Lane and Lower Meadow Primary Schools.
This year, students were asked to consider the theme 'Home' and what it can symbolise - a theme originally inspired by HRH Prince William's visit to Meadowhead School last summer and his work with homeless and displaced young people in our city. Our students reflected on family and friendship, culture and community, belonging and identity, which has created a rich and moving collection of writing.
Students also submitted artwork that supports the concepts explored by the written word, and the standard is genuinely outstanding.
We would like to thank everyone who entered and those who continue to support this project.
During the day, groups of Y7, Y8 and Y9 students attended a reward poetry workshop, led by poet Andy Craven-Griffiths. Please open the box below and read his amazing poem which he composed inspired by his work with the students. You can also see some of the artwork from the anthology.
'Home' by Dotty in Y7 is the winning illustration (pictured above) and is on the front cover of the anthology; all students who were included were given a copy.
Everyone a writer - Home, by Andy Craven-Griffiths
Everyone a writer - Home
We’ve had cosy poems, like cats in front of fire places,
Poems built of home that brings smiles to proud faces.
We’ve had home as a Emma’s sound track, a family song,
homes that keep changing, as lives move along.
Home as our messy, plastic-packed planet Earth.
That Aelfwynn wants to treat the way that we all deserve.
We’ve heard how home is not about trying to fit in with the crowd.
For Ebonie It’s accepting who you are and living proud.
Home’s something we look for in memories and views,
Like Rosie scanning the town below for it’s news.
It can be the white rose, Arctic Monkeys and a castle,
Rivers carving paths and Brody helping out, it’s no hassle.
Home’s where Lily gets hugged so tight it makes her heart hurt
where your parents decorate your walls on the day of your birth.
Home is where we’re comfy like a kitten in a pillow. Comfy.
For some, home never ends, for Freya, home is lovely.
It’s a sunny sky, and Elizabeth laughing with her friends.
It’s the smell of flowers, the soft tweet of birds that never seems to end.
It’s blowing out Seth’s candles, it’s the shortcut to nursery,
And taking a dip in the ball pool when you get thirsty.
Home is not in bricks or walls it’s memories, Alex knows the truth,
It’s tied to you, you’re stuck with it, it cannot be removed.
It’s steaming cups of tea, and all the hills wherever you look,
It’s Henderson’s relish, it’s Will reading an enticing book.
It’s Eadie and Sadie’s yellow and pink rooms and stinky twin feet.
And gleaming sports trophies when they team can’t be beat.
It’s old friends Alex ran with, it’s learning to let go,
It’s the new friends we find and the new ways that we grow.
Home can be like a lighthouse, always ready to find us.
For Xander, home’s like a rubber bind, it binds us.
It can be a condemned building where darkness likes to hide
And when you tear the boards down, it’s a wreckage Tairrie can live inside.
For Violet it’s the UK government opening a life-saving door.
A fairytale place where you’re safe from violence and war.
Home isn’t pinned to maps all the time, circles in reds,
For Phoebe it’s the warmth of being known, the quiet in your chest.
It’s delicious bolognase, and cuddling, watching Gladiators,
It’s Dad’s voice when he reads Matilda adventure books that last for ages.
It’s rituals you come back to, every now and then.
It’s Freddie watching ‘bad dinosaur’ and ‘bed at 8pm’
It’s houses that come alive for Nina, that have a glow,
As they grow like plants and trees, the roots extending below.
It’s a place that is playful, to get together and rest.
It’s all Evie could ask for, a perfect snuggly nest.
Home is yellow, like sunshine, it’s safe.
If you look through the eye-windows you’ll see Henson’s face.
Home is a kitchen that’s as happy as Bake Off.
It’s Maya feeling rested, like a plane before take off.
It’s sports like basketball, it’s white chocolate icing.
It’s full of energy, like John. Home is a nice thing.
Home is being listened to and hanging out with friends,
The tiny pandemic bubble William wasn’t sure would end.
It can be parents flying round like comets colliding,
questions that Tillie asks even though answers keep hiding.
It’s indigo rivers a city of steel, a chilly breeze.
And all the different languages George hears on the streets.
It’s Maya’s baited breath and wide eyes, waiting wisdom.
It’s being forgotten by time and the new start that feels different.
It’s Fathima’s granda buying sweets with his pension.
It’s A grades and coconut trees, and rainy days you have to mention.
It’s a place where fear can curl like smoke and you don’t feel free
But Rawand knows light can pour in, look inside and find the key
It’s a musical place to live. An instrument to play.
How is a song you can sing along to with Mae.
Houses that enjoy their work keeping humans safe.
A place that Olivia feel protected, a secure place.
Home is comfortable sofas, and room prisons for Joseph’s brothers.
A place where they can be kept safely away from others.
Place to explore from, driving into peaks, glimmering seas,
Fairy tales around campfires, Dexter says yes please.
Theo never gets bored there, cause there’s dozens of toys,
It’s where time doesn’t matter and there’s a zoo-like noise,
There are creaking floorboards that seem to offer a toast
to the memories Ash imagines the building holds like ghosts.
It can be a place we make mess that Clara can’t bare.
It’s something we should look after, a chance for us to care.
Home is uncertain, is it stars or oceans, or trees,
For Olivia, it’s life, the part of the galaxy that breathes.
Home is a school that celebrates poetry of all kinds,
Giving space and time for you writers to shine.
It’s where you can be by yourself, and know you’re not alone.
Home is for all of us, so ‘Mek thi sen at ome.’
'Doors' by Oliver Y7
'What home means to me' by Annie Y7
'Changing Home' by Anya Y12
Congratulations to all our winners and highly commended students!
Year 7 Winner
From Frost To Frond.
The gold of autumn curls and fades,
A zephyr brushes through the glades,
The lake a glass, a silver sheet,
Where summer’s ghost and winter meet.
Fires and marshmallows against the cold,
To turn the silver back to gold,
The cedar snaps, the embers glow,
Defiant sparks before the snow.
The biting breath of winter nears,
To freeze the reeds like crystal spears,
But here by the woods, the lakeside deeps,
The fire once again awakes while the forest
Sleeps.
The ice dissolves in rhythmic beats,
As winter’s bitter ghost retreats,
Through softened soil the crocus breaks,
While silver ripples awake the lakes.
The reeds turn green and sway,
As otters in the shallows play,
With blossoms white as fallen snow,
The cherry trees begin to glow,
A robin trills a morning song,
Where life was silent for so long,
The campfires smoke is thin and sweet,
Where spring and waking forests meet.
Rain swirls down onto the scented hearth,
Our planet, Earth,
On emeralds pads where shadows lie,
The frogs leap towards the painted sky,
A gentle splash, a peaceful ring,
Upon the lake the breath of spring,
The lily pads in quiet rows,
Watching as the silver water flows.
Zoé Y7, Meadowhead School
Year 9 Winner
The Space Between Years
I left Qatar like a dream at dawn,
Too quiet to keep, too heavy to hold on.
The journey stretched long through the darkened sky,
Hours filled with memories I couldn’t say goodbye.
England arrived in a cooler light,
New streets unfolding, unfamiliar yet bright.
My heart still lived in another time,
Where voices and laughter once felt like mine.
Then suddenly you stood right there,
Older faces, the same shared stare.
Years collapsed in a single breath,
Distance erased, at least for a step.
We spoke like time had never been lost,
Like years apart hadn’t carried a cost.
And in that moment, broken and whole,
I found a home in a familiar soul.
Kayan, Y9 Meadowhead School
Year 8 Winner
Home is a hollow,
A dark attic where my fears curl like smoke.
The walls don’t just surround me;
They press in, a slow suffocation.
Each step down the hallway is a weight,
Each window a lie pretending it’s an escape.
I reach for the door, but it’s always locked.
Home is a prison in disguise,
And yet somewhere in this maze of emptiness, I still whisper:
Maybe one day these walls will let me out.
I think of the mornings, when light used to pour softly through the kitchen,
And I ran barefoot, free as the wind, chasing the scent of fresh bread.
But now every creak in the floor is a chain,
And every memory is a ghost I can’t call back.
Still, I hold on—because maybe, someday, I’ll find the key inside myself. And love—
It lingers like poison in my veins,
Never enough to end me,
Just enough to make me ache.
Given in fragments, in almost,
It keeps me reaching,
Keeps me weak,
A quiet suffering I can’t escape.
Rawand Y8, Meadowhead School
'Earth as my home' by Korey Y7