Competition Results!!
I think it
can quite safely be said that Ifor Thomas was, if not destined to be the winner
of this little site’s little competition, then certainly determined. Unlike
other entrants, Ifor went out of his way to ensure his victory in various ways.
1.
Coming bounding up to me at Chris Brooke’s book launch announcing he had entered
the competition before I’d checked my PO Box for recent entries.
2.
Kindly inviting me to his own reading at another event.
3.
Mentioning how he’d recently met a mutual friend of ours recently in his letter
accompanying his poem.
4.
Sticking to the suggested format of 5 verses of 4 lines in his poem.
Now, I must
admit I was a bit disappointed by the low number of entries to the competition,
but even with this small number, never having had to judge a poetry competition
before, I did find doing so quite difficult. There were only one or two that I
instantly discarded, and one of those only because it was above the allotted
number of lines. Ifor’s omnipresence in the weeks leading up to the closing date
did therefore make choosing a winner that much easier. If only other entrants
had thought of this.
Hoho. He
jests of course. The trifling matter that I know the winning entrant is of
course mere coincidence! There is nothing underhand in my decision whatsoever.
In my view, Ifor’s was the best poem, simple as. It did stick to the suggested
format, but more than this, had a nice rhyming pattern, humour, had a cosy sort
of feel to it, and…well, I shouldn’t have to justify my decision!
Here below
is the winning poem:
Freezer log
I chart the freezer’s contents
In a list blue tacked to the door:
the what, the when, the
how long it can be stored.
This mausoleum
of stars and ice and frost
the drawers cracked on their
runners
keeping cold the logged and lost.
The small nuggets of inspiration
packed in freezer bags
hopes and minor ambitions
bereft of naming tags.
Here the big ideas,
the brilliant schemes,
the world wide tours,
the wild eyed dreams,
coated in white indifference
unsentimental as rocks.
It breathes, it sighs,
it shudders, it mocks.
Ifor Thomas,
And some of
the other more creditable entries, in no particular order, beginning with
another culinary creation. This one
also stuck to the “suggested format” and rhymed quite nicely, but overall didn’t
work quite as well as Ifor’s, I thought:
Computer Coloured Pie
Would love to serve you apple tart
laced with sweetest music
would add slices of passion fruit
and swamp with fruits sweet juices
would cut rhubarb to chunky sticks
soft and pink and gooey
sit it in a pastry case
and sing you something cooey
but efforts in the kitchen
resemble chaos stew
squawking refrains o’er charred
remains
when trying something new.
So now I cook with colour
and pour on lots of words
swirl around a syllable
crush the odd fresh hern
and it may sound fantastic
or strike your taste as strange
but somehow coloured lettered pie
seems more to suit my range.
Judith Toms, Aberdare
Next one
from our most distant entrant, hailing all the way from
A Room of One’s Own
When God looked on Chaos,
did his heart sink
like the stone of my heart
when I view my room?
for lofty winter quarters.
Unanswered letters, books to read,
old pens, old programmes, new
addresses,
the detritus of summer piled high
in my room – for now.
Give me your patience, God,
sorting, filing, setting in order,
like cleaving to like,
each object and each scrap,
like the sparrow’s fall
accounted for, not overlooked.
And on the seventh day, when all
is harmony and order,
shall I sit back and rest,
or start work, creating gloriously
until the serpent of muddle coils
back into this
Diane Jackman,
And finally
one I like purely because it mentions Kevin Nugent (I assume it is Kevin Nugent
rather than one of these other new breed of Nugents anyway). I seem to remember
Kevin Nugent’s specialities being 2 yard tap-ins, so to see a “Nugent screamer”
must have been a rare treat indeed:
The goal a Nugent screamer,
from half way it seemed,
A smile for work, a spring in
step,
everything is better.
My opium, cruel city,
coursing through my veins,
A win, the high
A loss, I try – to hide the
disappointment.
Another half way screamer,
the low comes rushing back,
a different
Now work’s a little harder.
Dewi Jones
A final
word on a couple of other aspects of the competition. Firstly, I did mention
about the possibility of their being 2nd or 3rd prizes. I hope entrants other
than Ifor will accept the excuse that due to the extraordinarily low number of
entries, and the fact that I’ve actually made a fairly substantial loss out of
the whole shebang, there are no other prizes. Along with this, there were also
insufficient entries for the “possible book” to be created. And finally, while I
had promised that half of all the entry fees would be forwarded to the
Zimbabwean political party, the MDC, again as I received so little in terms of
entry fees, so little that it’s hardly worth me cashing the cheques for myself,
I don’t think it is really worth me forwarding anything on to them. I would
suggest however that anyone who’s reading this with a sympathetic viewpoint
themselves donates money to the party. I’m sure they’d welcome it – anyone
considering donating any money to a form of charity should definitely consider
the MDC as their cause.