EXTENDED DEADLINE to 19th Feb midnight.
This month's poetry competition for the £30 cash prize has its three topics of
1) What matters is.
2) Family affairs.
3) It's a disgrace.......(start of poem)
30 line max with a connection to the chosen topic or topics. Email up to three entries to This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. before
the closing date of midnight 19th Feb. Winner and Highly Commended to read their entries at our Open Mic in Abbey Lane Theatre on the 24th Feb.
January winner Jordan Rafferty with his Friendship poem
'Your Blade'
The American asked me where that had come from,
how articulate alchemy turns a woman to steel
on a culchie’s tongue. He looked at me like I was
an archive of Irish diction to flick through and titter
over at leisure. The tinkling tang of accented English
tickled him. It’s why we were friends in the first place.
Blade, preceded by Biddie, preceding
Bridie and Doll and Dose. The American thought
too much of my talents. I’m a dictionary with no
descriptions, a collection of colloquial chorus,
a live reading in an echo chamber, that same
echo chamber that taught me to speak with
-out any kind of certain etymology.
Well, you see (I began to bullshit) consider
both in naïve hands. Sharp and dangerous.
That got him. Wit beats truth in the American
mind anytime. His poor partner. He called her Blade
then and forever after. I’d armed an Eejit.
Highly Commended; Ellen McKenna
My Favourite Walk.
My favourite walk would have to be
Along the strand, down by the sea.
Removing my shoes to dip my toes,
Always wary of strong undertows.
The gritty sand beneath my feet,
The tang of ozone in the heat.
The breeze blows spray onto my face,
As large waves along the shore do race.
Brave white horses jostling for room,
Before they die within the spume.
Above my head the sea birds soar,
Wheeling and dancing to their own score.
Their cries sound strident to my ear
As they fly free, with little to fear.
Plover scurry between the stones,
Along with oystercatcher and terns.
There are such treasures to be found,
Where shells and pebbles all abound.
Shading my eyes, I stop and loiter,
As sunlight sparkles on the water.
I stand and gaze to lands far away,
And allow my thoughts to stray,
As I think of all who are lost at sea,
How cruel and heartless it can be.
But then, as I taste the salt of brine,
I enjoy this precious moment in time.
Oh yes, my favourite walk would have to be,
Along the strand, down by the sea.
