Oxford pupil wins Foyle Young Poets competition
A pupil from the Oxford Spires Academy has been chosen as one of the winners of the Foyle Young Poets competition.
Aisha Mango Borja wrote her winning poem, The Lost Indigenous Language of Colombia, after attending a series of workshops run by the Poetry Hub at Oxford Spires Academy, one of the partners of the Creative Multilingualism research programme. The workshops focused on translation, dying languages and imaginary dictionaries, and used Kanishk Tharoor's Swimmer Amongst the Stars for inspiration.
The Poetry Hub at Oxford Spires Academy aims to stimulate creative writing amongst the pupils, many of whom have English as an additional language. Led by writer Kate Clanchy, the workshops run by the Poetry Hub draw upon the pupils’ home languages for inspiration and teach the pupils how to use their languages as a tool for creativity.
Creative Multilingualism’s 6th strand, Prismatic Translation, has been working closely with the Poetry Hub to run creative writing workshops led by poets from around the world. The first event was an Arabic poetry workshop run by Iraqi poet Adnan Al-Sayegh, followed by a workshop by Polish poet Wioletta Greg. These workshops caused an outflow of poems from the pupils at Oxford Spires Academy, one of which went on to win the Betjeman Poetry Prize last month.
Read Aisha Mango Borja’s winning poem below:
The Lost Indigenous Language of Colombia
The words we lost sit in the beaches
and mountains and often get caught up
in fishing nets like rounded starfish
that stick to your hands like Velcro
their legs embedded in the palm
of your hand. I’m sure there was
a word for that, but not anymore.
Or words caught in the city between two men
selling coconuts for the same price moving
the brightly coloured carts up and down
like warring peacocks while a little boy sits
on the corner with flavoured ice in his hands
staining his tongue blue from the dye. I’m sure
there was a word for that, but not anymore.
And motorbikes whizzing round corners
as if road safety was just something
we hear about from neighbours or cousins,
a social myth, until they crash and kiss
their life goodbye but before you know it
they are back and biking again. I’m sure
there was a word for that, but not anymore.
They lay in words in ‘farms’, the kind of farm
that’s a jungle, the farm that has a shed
filled with kids and kids, animals and we lie
in hay, horns like bones remind the children
what the goats are there for: for love
and smiles and family and soup. I’m sure
there was a word for that, but not anymore.
Not anymore.
Aisha Mango Borja
Where next?
Find out more about our Prismatic Translation research strand
Flights of fancy: birds and multilingualism
Are little deers jumping in your heart? (And other multilingual metaphors)