A huge congratulations to our Audience Winner Bethan Grant and the NTW TEAM winner Omar Fadhil. 

To give you a taste of Omar's talent below is one of his poems. A condensed version will be included in the NTW newspaper which will be in circulation for the next few months. Make sure you get your copy. 

Rant #2

I wanna prove that I can be insightful, but I don't know where to start,
I've got this new urge to be responsive, take in the times, create its art
I was writing all night, I tried, but my words kept sketching a tart.
What a bloody laugh, I already knew this world had no heart...

The past is the past and it douses the landfill,
But they are messages unmasked, by antique oak table and candle.
The actor is only as good as his sequel...
Till he proves himself, trust me there are equals,
Our statuses defined by the wealth of our people,
And right now we are at the beginning,
This is the prequel
There is more to be done, this land still holds evil,
This voice is just my own, and on its own it is feeble.
We are nothing but what we are trying to be...

In dark times growing old is seeming less and less appealing,
A new world encompassing all the lovely hate we are feeling.
Oh the feeling, feels like we're healing, knowledge is an assuring doctor,
But it’s like we muster the talk, then trip on the walk,
Get embarrassed, slip away fast and flustered.
Leaving dust over this picture, a cape for captain mistrust
Whose in a rush to make unjust fears, blunt,
But even the sun has to rise from its slum
Like the meeting of two lakes, two lakes into a river one.
Our worlds are separate...
But neither ones in front

Is it right because half the world appears to be doing it,
Or is half the world doing it because it is right?
What a gift to hold no regret, so in death peace is found in perfect plight,
It seems we have to sacrifice ourselves these days, to feel any sort of right,
All the good men have done it, Ghandi...Socrates...even Jesus Christ
We fight too...well I do
Usually laced with frustration drenched over booze
I think I'm going to...I’m going to spew...
Sacrifice my kebab, my soul, my chips for a gin or two.
I wouldn't victimise my body for you,
That must be where this so called ‘enlightenment’ could come in use
Living under concrete slabs, the heaviness should be something we've grown used to...

Maybe we don’t help each other because; we’re too busy holding the weight of our own skyline views,

“Everyone looks like ants, and do I really care what ants get up to?”

I wanna prove that I can be insightful, but I don't know where to start,
I've got this new urge to be responsive, take in the times, create its art
I was writing all night, I tried, but my words kept sketching a tart.
Nevermind, I didn’t really care that much....