Ellanya’s Foyle Young Poet’s Residential

From Standing by the Window to Finding My Voice: My Week at the Foyle Young Poets Arvon Residential

When I first arrived at the residential, I was unsure whether the thrill I felt was out of excitement or anxiousness.

I had always seen myself as a songwriter, an actress, or a public speaker, but not a poet. On our first day, we were asked to take part in an activity: stand by the door if we believed we were poets, or by the window if we didn’t. I stood as close to the window as I could possibly get.

That moment perfectly captured how hesitant I felt. Everyone else seemed so confident, and I wasn’t certain where I fit in.

However, as the week progressed, something began to change. I bonded so quickly and so genuinely with my fellow Foyle Young Poets that it became impossible to feel like an outsider. We spent our days writing, talking, laughing, and even setting off on what can only be described as an ambitious four-hour hike to see a castle. We made it all the way to the final muddy climb, where I suddenly became convinced I would get “stuck in the mud” and slip. I never actually saw the castle in the end… which, in a strange way, felt quite poetic.

Every day was filled with workshops led by our two mentors, Will Harris and Tolu Agbelusi, who were some of the most influential people I have ever met. Their personalities were wonderfully different, yet equally warm and encouraging. They challenged us to look at our writing from completely new perspectives, helping me to see my own poems in ways I never had before.

One of my favourite workshops involved renaming ordinary objects (that poem is below and entitled ‘Sunken Statue’ as I strangely saw a statue buried in the ground). As a group, we came up with fifteen words and had to write a poem using all of them. Later, we brainstormed replacements, for example, I swapped “pancakes” (it was Pancake Day, and we’d had an amazing pancake breakfast) with “flip-flops.” Don’t ask why – I was clearly deep in a poetic mindset.

Outside the workshops, we spent hours exploring The Hurst and the surrounding 26 acres. We even saw snow, which made everything feel even more magical. Having a whole week away from everyday routines, with time set aside simply to write and think, allowed me to feel more and more like a poet each day.

On one of our final days, we held a celebration reading where we shared the poems we had worked on throughout the week. As I stood there reading my work aloud, I realised something: I am a poet. All the songwriting, drama and public speaking are still parts of me, but they feed into my poetry rather than replace it. Being the school’s Poet Laureate suddenly made sense in a way it hadn’t before.

As a group, we also created an anthology titled Yolk – yes, Yolk. It may sound unusual, but eggs somehow became a recurring theme of the week. The title reflects the creativity, humour and slightly “out of pocket” energy we all shared. I’m proud to say I am now officially a “Yolkie,” and I contributed three poems to the collection which capture, in a nutshell, the spirit of the Arvon residential: experimentation, connection and discovering confidence in our own voices.

All in all, I arrived standing by the window, unsure if I belonged, and I left knowing I had found not just a place, but a voice.

Ellanya, Lower V