Excel for Charity News Blog

Results and Judge’s Report, The TRYangle Project Short Story Competition 2011

2011-12-16T00:56:00.001Z

First Prize

‘Losing Benjy’ – Simon Van der Velde

Second Prize

‘The Waiting Room’ – David Wass

Third Prize

‘Hanging by a Thread’ – Claire Pankhurst

Highly Commended

‘Italia ‘90’ – Simon Van der Velde

‘Small Black Flowers’ – Dean Scurlock

Reading the entries for The Tryangle Project Short Story Competition 2011, I was impressed by the thoughtful treatment of the subject matter and I was deeply affected by some of the more heart-breaking stories. With such a range of voices and settings explored, it was a difficult task to choose winning entries, but those I have chosen are all by skilled storytellers who create convincing points of view. They draw their characters sincerely and with care, weave poignant insights into immediate narratives and include small telling details that bring their stories to life.

The First Prize Winner, ‘Losing Benjy’, is narrated by Tommy, a boy whose family is destroyed by his mother’s abusive boyfriend. The story uses imaginative imagery and fresh language that are nonetheless convincingly the words of a young boy. All the characters are persuasively suggested through down-to-earth, realistic dialogue and interactions that are tender and brutal by turns. The challenging theme is adeptly evoked with telling details and throughout, there is a sense of startling and ultimately terrifying insight. It’s all too easy for the reader to connect to Tommy and to feel what he’s feeling right up to the painful ending.

In ‘The Waiting Room’, winner of the Second Prize, a young Zimbabwean woman named Rutendo seeks asylum after an act of aggression devastates her family. Beautifully written, this story evokes Rutendo’s intense loneliness and explores the different ways in which violence affects our lives. Using delicate imagery that offsets the subject-matter, the writer represents the brutality caused by oppressive political regimes, by the state acting against individuals and by nature itself, as well as by the way ordinary people treat each other every day. Through Rutendo’s poignant memories of home and her harsh experience of exile, we feel her alienation and all that she has lost.

The Third Prize goes to a compelling story about a man whose controlling behaviour has made his wife a prisoner. ‘Hanging by a Thread’ is pared-down and economical in style, creating a taut structure in which the sense of fear is never diminished. The writer experiments boldly with point of view, using first person to tell the victim’s story and addressing the abuser in the second. This technique gives the reader a forceful sense of encroaching violence. The metaphor of a spider in a web expresses the claustrophobia of the woman’s life and enables the writer to craft a bitter-sweet image of escape at the end.

The two Highly Commended stories, ‘Italia ‘90’ and ‘Small Black Flowers’ are both told from the perspectives of children. Both use small details of everyday life to show what is being lost and create affecting central metaphors through which the theme is explored. The five senses are well used in order to evoke, moment by moment, the tragic plight of child victims of violence in the home.

The non-winning entries often began with a good idea, but were marred by either giving a stereotypical representation of the theme, not treating it seriously or completely misunderstanding it. Some stories that had quite strong characters or compelling storylines were undermined by their use of wooden dialogue, clichéd language and ideas or stiff and formal diction that didn’t seem to fit with the story being told.

Many writers explained the story, telling the plot without evoking it and creating no real scenes. Those stories that were overloaded with opinions about domestic violence but did not show anything happening were the least compelling. These stories would have been improved by using imaginative language, fresh images and telling moments of action. Metaphoric elements could also have been used well to create layering and narrative richness. Most importantly, those writers who did not win could improve their work by searching for compelling insights into their characters to create a sense of emotional connectedness between reader and protagonist.

Kate Horsley

Results of the Stepping Stones Nigeria Poetry Competition 2011

2011-12-15T22:28:00.001Z

This competition on the theme of Childhood was judged by Susanna Roxman.

First Prize: ‘Little Girl's Antistrophe at 27 Rue de Fleures’ by Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé (Singapore)

Second Prize: ‘Everything is Indestructible’ by W.F.Lantry (U.S.A)

Third Prize: ‘There Will Come a Time My Love’ by Paige Bevans (Canada)

Highly commended poems

‘First Memories’ by Anne Ballard (U.K)

‘So you're getting married’ by Copland Smith (U.K)

Judge’s report

There were many good pieces to choose from; however, I felt that quite a few of them are not really finished. The poems are in most cases good (in so far as they are good) on the strength of details and perhaps individual lines, rather than as wholes. This does not hold true for the three winners, or the two Highly commended poems. These five texts are all of them thoroughly "worked out". But in most of the other poems, I can only admire certain images, lines, or stanzas.

I also found rather too many prose-like poems, with few if any lyrical qualities -- texts which, I believe, would have worked better as prose. Sometimes the rhythm suffers in these cases.

Comments on the winning and highly commended poems:

1st Prize poem:

The poet takes the reader on a fantastic, original, totally confident ride through Gertrude Stein's childhood (and also her later life). The poem is modernist in style, as befits a homage to the High Priestess of literary modernism. The imagery is startling and feels fresh.

2nd Prize poem:

A really good poem in its slightly odd way. (This is meant as a compliment.) There is a feeling here that everything hangs together: childhood, adulthood, the past, the present, the seasons, animals, humans. The child is the wise person here, and the adults do well to listen to him. The father realizes this in the last stanza. A Romantic touch -- the child representing wisdom, as well as innocence.

3rd Prize poem:

Here a parent, or at least a kind adult, addresses, with tenderness and wisdom, a child. I like especially the emphasis on being oneself.

Highly commended poems

"First memories". Matter of fact but full of affection. No unnecessary asides or explanations.

"so you're getting married". Tenderness here, too; in this case, what seems to be a parent is addressing a now adult child, at the same time remembering him/her in childhood, many years previously. A strong sense of impending change, but also an equally powerful sense of continuity -- that nothing really changes. The seasons may come and go, but it's the same park as before, and the same love between parent and child. "In those days trees were especially tall." is a marvellous line. It doesn't seem to refer only to the obvious fact that the child has grown up, and is now therefore taller. Also some lost sense of wonder (as in Wordsworth) may be implied.

It's been a pleasure reading and judging this poetry competition.

Susanna Roxman

Little Girl’s Antistrophe at 27 Rue de Fleures

2011-12-15T22:09:00.001Z

Just now, I unwrapped her box of letters. Gertrude was an iconoclast

to her gravitas. What she did not know she let travel, recurrence

of rhymes like falling leaves buffeting, autumn breeze from East Side.

Gertrude did not know home tonight or home in the summer.

By the Hudson. Did not know pudding from sauce from Helfgott’s letters.

Its mention of parlour poetry as dried hydrangea as pastoral,

as another Gothic point of view. As the bird feeder broke into two,

as freer roads after the scuttling, as prying apart the living architectonics.

Like her piano rolled down the stairs. Of play and vinaigrette

and too much cayenne. That the Tribune was the Tribune after all.

But also a need and problem within the chronic hours.

Gertrude did not know the object beyond the object.

Beyond the waterfowl, a duck of oval, of beak and weathervane wing,

of zipper heart, and an accordion tongue. Gertrude did not know

where to put the centre of things. Gertrude did not soak Henry’s cloak.

Nor Mildred’s, its hem another herringbone stitch another section

not whole enough or wholehearted or wholemeal enough.

The whole world was no longer a lazy afternoon or abiding love,

an old Gertrude looking at herself in the mirror of the ponding water.

Her head taking the shape of the barn, its shadow a black soot.

In midday sun, quiet afternoon cradling itself into the moonless night.

Gertrude was earnest in losing things — the beat-up rosebush

one more variation, foot divisions misaligned, word endings falling

over each other, frothy tumble. Gertrude’s diaeresis, Alice in a deep sleep,

the lean and fallow years from that trembling point onwards.

Gertrude’s dactylic dimeter drumming itself into the hexameter,

a twist as with the helix, as with rollercoaster feelings

when affectations run wild, when The Salon levitated

into The Cloud of Unknowing, its noetic white as wispy and dissolving.

Then a removal so she would always ask more questions.

As supple as her very last. Gertrude’s Sunday clatter in another suite

to rile Chaucer, even in death, even in love from a distance.

Even in wise restraint and a portrait left in the dark, its phonic echoes

a new refrain of face and facet. And fractured verseforms.

Gertrude’s sudden awakening to sovereignty’s shining eye.

Not decadence but wonderment. Not meaninglessness but a prayer,

a detachment and reasoned feeling. A small run of sounds and pictures.

Of a sapling writing out its unknown destination, its basis

and other evidence scaffolding, relaxed into a vine far down the road.

In the vineyard, a redder rose held out in the palm of her hand.

By Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé

‘Little Girl’s Antistrophe at 27 Rue de Fleures’ is the 1^st Prize Winner in the Stepping Stones Nigeria Poetry Competition 2011

Everything is Indestructible

2011-12-15T22:02:00.001Z

So spoke my six year old just yesterday.

I did not care to contradict his words.

His face was scratched when falling from a tree,

the neighbour's blossoming magnolia. He

shook off the pain, and saw migrating birds

above his head, flying as they had done

how many million years? Their southward run

unchanged, unchanging, as he'd lately learned.

And in his yard, a cherry's broken bough

hangs twisted by a storm. I can't allow

more time to let it fall. My wife's concerned

it's dangerous. And yet, what will become

of all that wood? Food for the lathe, and some

will find its way down to our forest where

rabbits and snakes will nest in its remains.

So often here, our losses become gains,

as she is always whispering in prayer:

those hands turn circles on her rosary

through endless curves within her ecstasy.

So maybe James is right, something persists

beyond what we can see: the river moves

its banks, but through this transformation proves,

even when changing course, it still exists:

I'll listen more to what he has to say.

By W.F. Lantry

‘Everything is Indestructible’ is the 2^nd Prize Winner in the Stepping Stones Nigeria Poetry Competition 2011

There Will Come a Time My Love

2011-12-15T21:56:00.001Z

There will come a time my love, when you are

fully grown, you look back at your life

and your heart will swell with love and longing.

There will come a time my love

when the grades you got and goals you scored

will no longer seem so important.

There will come a time my love

when you will get over that broken heart,

you will see how precious real friendship really is.

There will come a time my love

when you will stop caring what others think of you,

and understand that being you is what matters most.

There will come a time my love when you wish you could go back

to run wild without a care, to swing so high you become part of the clouds

and to climb to the top of the tallest tree without fear of falling.

There will come a time my love

when you will feel so heavy inside

and you wonder how things could ever go back to normal again.

But my love, there will also come a time

when you are so proud of yourself

that for just a moment you believe you can do anything in the world.

A time when you are so happy just to be. A time

you are filled with more love than you ever thought possible,

and feel a sense of purpose that you never before had.

There will come a time my love that God will give you

the greatest gift in the world - a gift that will seem so tiny,

that you will wonder how it can produce so much joy.

There will come a time my love that everything

you used to worry about will suddenly seem so unimportant.

But until that time comes my love, you will always have me.

By Paige Bevans

‘There will come a time’ is the 3^rd Prize Winner in the Stepping Stones Nigeria Poetry Competition 2011

So you’re getting married

2011-12-15T21:40:00.001Z

Today, I did a circuit of the squirrel park;

it’s twenty years since you named it that.

So you’re getting married soon, and I go for a walk

and I’m on this memorial bench where we once sat

and you had a serious, five-year-old talk

about everything, and then fed acorns to a tree-rat.

I have a photograph of you under a tree.

The tree looks massive, and you look very small.

Every time I look at it, it captures me.

In those days trees were especially tall.

One day you’ll take your baby to feed squirrels,

and under those tall trees you’ll feel the passage of time

as a handful of baby’s fingers grip just one of yours

just like when yours held on to one of mine.

By Copland Smith

‘So you’re getting married’ is a Highly Commended poem in the Stepping Stones Nigeria Poetry Competition 2011.

First Memories

2011-12-15T21:33:00.001Z

He is in all of them.

I remember him standing, unsteady,

distressed I was ill,

peering into the lap where I lay

cradled and crying.

His effort to help, showing me picture cards

that I disregarded.

I learned to count from the lesson

that his fourth birthday did not, for some reason,

make me three, not for another two months

and I would never catch up with him.

Next year he rode off on his tricycle,

outpacing our grandmother,

crossed alone at the traffic lights:

said he just waited till everything stopped,

then knew it was my turn.

He built a cart, pulled me around in it

till it overturned,

then was blamed for my tears.

I didn’t mind

once my bruise yellowed.

That last long summer

we splashed in the shallows together

naked as frogs, brown as the small fish

that nibbled our toes.

I think for a while he was God to me,

filled my sky.

I didn’t cry when he left.

Nobody told me

he would only return for short visits:

nor warned that all seasons

from now on would be colder.

by Anne Ballard

‘First Memories’ is a Highly Commended poem in the Stepping Stones Nigeria Poetry Competition 2011.

Results of the Swale Life Poetry Competition (November 2011)

2011-11-30T19:12:00.001Z

We are pleased to announce the results of the Swale Life Poetry Competition (November 2011) as judged by Geoff Stevens.

There are 7 commended in no particular order:

K. Woodrow – ‘Graffiti Artist, 37, seeks symbol with gsoh

Adrian Bushen – Schubertiad

Michael Newman – Sunrise at Wainlode

Michael Newman – In the Key of Regret

Michael Newman – News from Wales

C.J. Korta – A Dorset Couple

Garden Pests – Flick Spear

The Highly Commended Poems which win prizes of £10 each are:

Roger Elkin – Sun Street, Shelton

Troy Elliot – Hurricane Rita

The winner of the Third Prize of £30.00 is Bruce Harris - Commuter Computer

The Second Prize of £50.00 goes to Christian Ward – Scafell

And the First Prize of £100.00 goes to Noelle Janaczewska – Once upon a Tiger

These 12 poems, together with the winners and commended poems from the previous 3 Swale Life International Poetry Competitions held in 2011 will be included in the anthology to be published in December.

Results of The TRYangle Project Poetry Competition 2011

2011-11-18T01:08:00.001Z

Let me begin by expressing the gratitude of all of us at Excel for Charity to the poets from across the world who entered this competition in aid of The TRYangle Project. It was indeed heartwarming to have received 153 poems which raised £143.50 for the charity. A small drop in the ocean of what they need to combat the evil of domestic violence, but surely the cash raised will do something for them, and I cannot thank the poets enough for writing to help.

Great thanks to Gabriel Griffin for a good job done, and for such a lovely and detailed report on the competition which can be read here.

Congratulations to the Highly Commended poets; Anne Ballard for 'Secret' and Pat Borthwick for 'Their Door', third prize winner Simon Jackson for 'Punchbag', second prize winner Desmond Kon Zhicheng Mingdé for 'Inside David's Labyrinth' and our overall winner, Sheffield poet, Jenny Donnison for 'Apology.' Talking of apology, you will notice that the poem is presently differently from the other poems. This has been necessitated by a desire to maintain the poem's layout.

Nnorom Azuonye
Administrator.

Judge's Report, The TRYangle Project Poetry Competition 2011

2011-11-18T00:52:00.000Z

I usually enjoy judging poetry competitions immensely – but not this one. The theme was domestic violence and the 150 odd poems entered were all, of course, on this distressing theme. It was hard to read them, I had to read in shifts. It was impossible not to empathize with all the writers, many of whom I guessed wrote from personal experience and were not accustomed to writing poems, yet desperately needed to express the horror of their experiences, to give voice at last. The great majority of poems entered were those that described (very vividly) the violence inflicted upon women by their husbands or male companions. Rare were the poems that spoke of women battering men. Several (not as many as I would have expected) related to incest and child abuse.

Through all these poems ran coloured threads: purple, violet, blue, red and black; the colours of the bruises and wounds inflicted physically on the victims – we can only guess at the immense psychological damage. There were a fair number of birds fluttering over some of these poems: birds trapped in cages, birds of paradise, a woodpecker and a handsome bird that pulps its prey. There was a tomcat, a rat, a fox and a wolf.

A handful of poems were from the point of view of an onlooker, a would-be helper relating the impossibility of assisting someone who dare make no move to help herself – in one the victim, a young woman, prefers to be “abused than unwanted, despised than alone”.

Occasionally the victim attempts to call for help, one dials “the three nines”. But when she is asked whether she needs fire, police, ambulance, or coastguard, she asks herself, uncertain, “was she burning or drowning?” and puts the phone down. Another victim asks her priest for help with a bipolar, violent husband but the priest just tells her “to offer up the pain”!

Most of the victims of male partner abuse have developed that devastating conviction that the violence is their own fault – in one the victim says “leave him? You must be joking, my fault, always provoking”. This is an attitude that the majority of battered women and children (according to these poems) assume and I find this extremely sad. A devastation that is both physical and psychological. It was a relief to read the words of one battered wife to her husband: “There is only one ceremony I wish for you/ and it has fuck all/ to do with forgiveness”. I wanted to cheer this woman.

But another woman who had the courage to denounce her violent husband and take him to court saw the abuser get off scot free because, according to the author, both he and the judge were freemasons. I find this example of ‘brotherhood’ very troubling.
Children in these poems are abused by neighbours, brothers, fathers. Babies are battered . A kid is forced to eat food he finds revolting. Onlookers hesitate to help. But some children can be extremely difficult and terrorize their parents , although I have a sneaking sympathy for the boy who carried on provoking his too-perfect, composed mother until she lost her temper with him at last, the boy finding her anger “the warmest thing/ to have passed between them” .

All the poems were extremely eloquent and stirred a strong emotional response in me. But at this point I had to put emotions aside and judge them not merely for their subject matter but as poetry. Almost all were written in free verse, sometimes rather too freely, perhaps the authors were overcome by the emotion and distress they were attempting to portray. There were two rather informal sonnets (I had expected more sonnets). A few entries were written in rhyming couplets or quatrains, the rhymes being often a little too obvious. There was a well written villanelle.

I put on the ‘No’ pile poems with clanging rhymes, those that used hackneyed phrases, those that slammed the message home, those that said what they had to say in a rather monotonous way with no image or turn of word to engage me. I looked for poems that intrigued me, that arrested my attention, that made me wonder, not just exclaim “Oh how terrible!” and turn to the next.

After much reading, re-reading and pauses for reflection, I had a final shortlist of ten poems. These poems were the ones that stayed in my mind and had me thinking of them while I was doing other things. They were very individual and different poems; there is the monologue of ‘Forgiveness’ in which the poet reassures her batterer over and over again that “it’s alright”, she accepts what’s happened and forgives him but ends “I’m not going to talk to you again./Nor anything else to you again”.

‘Crossword’s is rather unsettling: the mother trapping her adolescent son (I guess a son rather than a daughter) in the ritual of her crossword puzzle. The mother shows off her ability, cheats rather. As the boy grows older, he realizes “how many of the clues/were repeats from other weeks, /how the language used was simple and limited.” It ends with the boy catching up and overtaking the mother, all the time careful to keep between them “requisite blank spaces”.

‘Pomace’ has some memorable images, of Nona, the grandmother, in the kitchen sieving “the hush flour, dribbling the mummed oil”. In contrast with these peaceful domestic images is an undercurrent of contained violence, “the knives’ fangs” and “slicing the muscle of love”. The making of olive oil is used to express something we can guess happening to the young girl but that she won’t admit even to herself, nor will anyone else speak of it: the secrecy conveyed by the adjectives ‘hush’, ‘dumb’, ‘ mummed’.

‘Gnome Princess’ consists of two stanzas with many phrases of the first repeated in the second while assuming an opposite meaning. A little girl stands in the garden (I loved the phrase “All nithered and withered”) observed by a kindly neighbor who has no idea of the true nature of the child’s father – the daddy the girl is trying without hope to avoid. This poem invites us to ask ourselves how often do we fail to notice when something is dreadfully wrong with those near us, children especially, who haven’t the comprehension of their situation or the language to ask for help.

‘Dressed to kill’, a short, neat, vivid poem, describes a many-hued bird “posed/as if waiting at a hotel bar” that batters its prey to pulp. A charming analogy! Since the name of the bird isn’t mentioned and I was intrigued, I spent some time on the RSPB and similar sites before finally deciding (there are clues in the poem) that it might be a bee-eater.

Highly Commended: ‘Secret’. The form is a villanelle, well-worked, very visual. A father persuades his little girl to stay with him all day and a night in their secret place in the bracken: “We may spot a lark, like a speck in the sky/ till it snaps out of sight and the song drifts away” adding “No need to tell Mummy, for Mummy might cry/then bad men would come and take Daddy away”… the subject is, alas, all too clear.

Highly Commended: ‘Their Door’ is a spare, sad poem, the poet wanting to go back to the past and see “two beaming faces with a look of me/arms outstretched” but the door will not open and the poet remains outside in “this cold, endless night”.

Now for the three prize-winning poems: each one is very different in form and subject from the other two, but all three are extremely assured, each poet is obviously in full control. And says exactly what he or she wants to say in the best language, whether this be dialect, everyday speech or very elegant writing.

3rd prize: ‘Punchbag’ A short poem (16 lines) telling of a battered husband and father. It is written in dialect and describes the father as “shan, weak, pathetic/an empty shirt blown in the wind”. The child would join the mother in hurting the father both physically and with words, but the poem ends “It’s only now I ken/that accepting the jags and burling shoves, just as the need tae inflict them/ shows a girning kind of love”. A wonderfully descriptive and moving conclusion.

2nd prize goes to the extremely well-written, elegant ‘Inside David’s Labyrinth’.I was enchanted by this poem because it is mysterious, it doesn’t tell but alludes. The protagonist says he needed “this evening of gin and single malts/just to get these words on the page…”. Thirty-six lines and nine stanzas to recall a past of fractured pictures, beginning with a Hakone puzzle box (I didn’t know what that might be, had to look it up on internet: a craftsman-made Japanese puzzle box requiring anything from 5 to 66 moves in order to open.) What was inside the puzzle box we are not told, and perhaps the poet doesn’t know either because, he tells us, the opening mechanism of the puzzle box is broken – possibly something to do with a photo of David “in pantaloons as a child, smudged lipstick and rouge”? The poem ends, “Then, he shook it, for a charm to fall out.” This is a haunting poem, beautifully written.

It was almost a toss-up between first and second places. Because the theme of the competition was the one it was, I finally decided on the winning poem because it expressed so very well what many other poems entered had also said, or attempted to say, in concrete images and with no word wasted.

Ist prize: ‘Apology’. The theme of this poem was one common to so many entered: the battered woman apologizing to her violent husband/lover because she is convinced that if he hits her – and he does and has – it is entirely her own fault. The form of the poem, unlike some of the other poems on this theme, is controlled to perfection, consisting of only one sentence with no intervening punctuation between the opening and the final full stop. Thirty-six lines of equal length compose a rectangular block on the page that invites reflection: her house/a cage/ a prison in which the woman is trapped? Inside this box violence is expressed in vivid images: a smashed china teapot, a yellow fruit bowl overturned, purple plums bursting out of their skins, her torn red and black dress. This woman is violently beaten and raped in her home by her husband – and yet she is convinced it is all her fault and apologizes to her assailant.

To conclude: I have really appreciated how all the entrants, placed or not, managed to express themselves so well and vividly and thank those relating their own experiences for allowing me to enter briefly into their world and share a little of their sadness. To all these poets my very sincere good wishes.

Gabriel Griffin

Their Door

2011-11-18T00:40:00.001Z

I’m back at their door. I am looking at their door.
I am looking harder at their door than I have ever done.

Paint is curling from it. It looks like a lamb’s fleece.
The brass number 3 has not been polished for months.

I can only recognise part of myself in it. Who am I?
I am still looking at the door. Look, the fox

still holds his tail high and as usual, his claws
are ready to pounce and snatch. No point in knocking.

Now it is dusk and I am still outside, staring at the door.
Dew begins to light the grass with its tiny beacons but

not the door. I know I want to see the door open.
I know what I want to see behind the door because

I want to see two beaming faces with a look of me,
arms outstretched. I want to see two beaming faces

with the look of me, arms outstretched.
I know the door will not open but I‘m still here

standing on the doorstep in this cold, endless night.

- Pat Borthwick
Highly Commended Poet, The TRYangle Project Poetry Competition 2011

Secret

2011-11-18T00:28:00.001Z

This is our secret place, just you and I.
What fun we are having, we giggle all day
while snug in the bracken together we lie.

We may spot a lark, like a speck in the sky
till it snaps out of sight and the song drifts away.
This is our secret place, just you and I:

hidden, we see the red fox slinking by
and watch spiders weaving silk traps for their prey
while snug in the bracken together we lie.

The hours are too short here; how quickly they fly.
I’ll bring apples and chocolate, then we can stay
all night in our secret place, just you and I -

come under the shelter: no need to ask why.
The red sky will darken then bleach into grey
while snug in the bracken together we lie.

No need to tell Mummy, for Mummy might cry
then bad men would come and take Daddy away.
This must be our secret place, just you and I:
Sshh - quiet in the bracken, together we lie.

- Anne Ballard
Highly Commended Poet, The TRYangle Project Poetry Competition 2011

Punchbag

2011-11-17T23:44:00.000Z

Ah used tae join in even,
when Ma was launching into him,
thought he was shan, weak, pathetic,
an empty shirt blown in the wind.

She’d be aw smiles ootside the hoose
but inside it would all kick off.
It was later I began tae ken
a punchbag has a strength enough,

a braw courage to absorb
that anger hurled day after day
and hold safe frae the ricochet
my sneering sisters and me.

It’s only now I ken
that accepting the jags and burling shoves,
just as the need tae inflict them,
show a girning kind of love.

- Simon Jackson
Third Prize Winner, The TRYangle Project Poetry Competition 2011

Apology

2011-11-17T23:43:00.001Z

- Jenny Donnison

First Prize Winner, The TRYangle Project Poetry Competition 2011

Inside David's Labyrinth

2011-11-17T23:43:00.000Z

I sat behind my door in my little house,
which was all entry,
and thoroughly enjoyed its protection.

~ Henry Thoreau

It was worth this evening of gin and single malts
just to get these words on the page, a sadness that speaks
more of the world around us than the world inside us,
like a Hakone puzzle box, its opening mechanism broken.

These are not limpid waters, or standing pools
of light. The muse has left me, like a house sparrow, for the Nuttalls,
and then returned. It traversed with the wind, a vaned feather,
down to the tree line where it rested on a branch.

It was a Weymouth Pine, or something smaller,
more timid. David watched a racoon from his perch in my treehouse.
It looked sad, lying on its side as it gazed out at the world.
Through sleepy eyes, an acorn in its paw, half-buried in sand.

The muse rose as Black Orpheus, as if the song lilted its shadows.
The muse now lives in the shadow of the sundial,
its angular face turning to face northwest, lights beckoning.
My treehouse has become our treehouse through the years.

David remembered Camberwell and Peckham as brick and mortar,
a deep song, he used to say. Undergirding its poorest corners,
another unburnished voice, going at it alone.
It was a raw memory, each line rending another fractured picture.

There was a woman who counted beads every afternoon,
so long as eight ended up in the blue box, eleven in the green.
Sometimes she lined them up, like shale pebbles,
the paisley tablemat like the seven-ring labyrinth off Tintagel.

In the chapel was the old man with dementia.
Today, he wore his mother’s skirt, rolled up to his chest.
Beside him was the girl in the pink dress, her hair around her face.
The welts on her thighs that rose to her upper back.

David took a marker, wrote his name on the floorboards.
We shared a meat and pecan pie, in a box squat on newspapers,
as he pulled out old photographs from a shoebox.
One of him in pantaloons as a child, smudged lipstick and rouge.

He turned the puzzle box upside down, and looked for a turnkey
and drum and bells, as if it were a music box.
He said he saw his name on the underside, its simple geometry
weathered with age. Then, he shook it, for a charm to fall out.

- Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé
Second Prize Winner, The TRYangle Project Poetry Competition 2011

Competitions update

2011-11-17T10:05:00.000Z

The TRYangle Project Poetry Competition
We are pleased to note that we have now received the results and judge's report on The TRYangle Project Poetry Competition. These results, the judge's report and the winning poems will be published in our News Blog on the 18th of November.

The TRYangle Project Short Story Competition
The stories are now with the judge and the results will be announced on the 15th of December.

Stepping Stones Nigeria Poetry Competition
The poems are now with the judge and the results will be announced on the 15th of December.

£1,330.64 given to charity so far

2011-10-20T04:08:00.000+01:00

On 19th October 2011, we presented a £143.50 cheque to The TRYangle Project, being the amount we raised from the just concluded poetry competition on domestic violence. The short story competition on DOMESTIC VIOLENCE will close on 10-Nov-2011. You could still enter and help curb this evil. This latest donation brings the amount Excel for Charity has given to charity to £1,330.64. Don't forget, the writers who help us raise these funds also win cash prizes for themselves. Check out our current competitions at www.excelforcharity.com

Sentinel Annual Poetry Competition 2011, judge - Roger Elkin

2011-10-14T14:30:00.000+01:00

Sentinel Annual Poetry Competition 2011, judge - Roger Elkin

Poetry Competition raises £143.50 for The TRYangle Project

2011-10-14T05:43:00.000+01:00

We thank the 103 poets who entered a total of 153 poems in The TRYangle Project Poetry Competition 2011. This competition was well-responded to, but we appreciate how hard it can be sometimes to write on specific themes, especially when those themes do not personally affect a writer. In the course of this competition we received a lot of e-mails from poets who said they would have liked to enter in order to support the charity's work, but could not do so because it had a closed theme. This is something to bear in mind for the future.

The good news is that this competition received gross entry fees of £567.50. After paying PayPal Charges of £29.37 we had £538.13 left, appropriated as follows:

1. 10% for Excel for Charity Administration & Advertising = £53.81
2. 10% for Judge's fees = £53.81
3. Net entry fees after deduction 1 and 2 above from £538.13 = £430.50
4. Donation to The TRYangle Project = £143.50 (being a third of the net entry fees)
5. Balance left after donation to charity = £287.00
6. Amount required to pay Prizes = £285.00
7. Retained excess to be ploughed back into future Excel for Charity competitions after prizes have been paid = £2.00

The poems will now be depatched to the Judge on the 15th of October.

Thanks once again

Nnorom Azuonye
Administrator

The TRYangle Short Story Competition deadline extended to 10th November

2011-10-11T01:03:00.000+01:00

Entry deadline for The TRYangle Project Short Story Competition we are running to raise funds for the charity working with victims of domestic violence has been extended to 10-November-2011 because at just 31, the number of entries falls far below what would make the competition successful.

The associated poetry competition closed successfully at midnight on the 10th of October, and we should be announcing the amounts raised and donated to the charity on Thursday 13th of October.

To help us achieve our targets for this charity, enter the short story competition today at http://easternlightepm.com/excelforcharity/tryangle-short-story-competition-2011/

Excel for Charity News in Brief

2011-10-10T02:11:00.000+01:00

The TRYangle Project Poetry Competition 2011

The TRYangle Project Poetry Competition 2011 will close at midnight tonight. So if you have not yet entered your poems, there is still time for you to do so and use your poem to help victims of Domestic Abuse. So far we have received 136 poems, and hve raised £127.20 for the charity. This amount represents a third of the net entry fees of £381.59. To enter this competition now and help increase the funds raised for the charity, go to http://www.easternlightepm.com/excelforcharity/tryangle-poetry-competition-2011/

The TRYangle Project Short Story Competition 2011.

This short story competition is seriously under-target so far and the deadline is likely to be extended. We will announce the extention later today after a meeting with the charity and review our publicity strategy for the competition to try and make it not only a strong competition, but a successful one in raising the much needed funds for the charity. As at 2am today the short story competition has managed only 28 stories and raised just £34.70 for the charity. We believe that a extension extension will help the figures. To enter this competition now, go to http://easternlightepm.com/excelforcharity/tryangle-short-story-competition-2011/

Excel for Charity - writing competitions in aid of the world's charities

2011-10-08T12:10:00.000+01:00

Excel for Charity - International Writing Competitions Series in aid of charities. Current competitions: 1. The TRYangle Project Poetry (Judge: Gabriel Griffin) & Short Story (Judge: Kate Horsley) Competitions on DOMESTIC VIOLENCE. Closing 10-10-11 2. Stepping Stones Nigeria Poetry (Judge: Susanna Roxman) & Short Story (Judge: Toni Kan) Competitions on CHILDHOOD. Closing 31-10-11 and 3. Swale Life International Poetry Competition. Open theme. Closing 10-11-11 www.excelforcharity.com
Excel for Charity - writing competitions in aid of the world's charities

Sentinel Annual Poetry Competition 2011, judge - Roger Elkin

2011-09-18T18:43:00.000+01:00

Sentinel Annual Poetry Competition 2011, judge - Roger Elkin

Results of Swale Life Poetry Competition (July 2011) Announced

2011-08-25T18:13:00.000+01:00

We are pleased to announce the results of the Swale Life Poetry Competition (July 2011) judged by Mandy Pannett.

The two Highly Commended Poems are:

"Laments" by Ian Barker (Corwen, Wales)
"Reading Rimbaud at Tunstall: A Sestina" by Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé (Singapore)

Winners:

Third Prize - "Her Room" by Miles Cain (York, UK)
Second Prize - "May it Disturb Me" by Valerie Bridge (Dorset, UK)
First Prize - "Eulogy at Kingsferry Bridge" by Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé (Singapore)

Congratulations to the winners and commended authors. These poems will be published alongside the Judge's Report in Issue #7 of Swale Life Magazine on the 30th of August at www.swalelife.com

This competition raised £66.24 for Diversity House, publishers of Swale Life magazine and brings the total sum Excel for Charity has raised for this charity to £328.02

Lupus UK Poetry Competition 2011 Results

2011-08-15T02:00:00.000+01:00

We are pleased to announce the results of the Lupus UK International Poetry Competition judged by Jim Bennett. A successful competition that raised £180.65 for the charity. What is more, judge, Jim Bennett found many of the entries to be of very high standard, but at the end it came down to five poets.

The 2 Highly Commended poets in no particular order are CLARE FOGES for Afternoon, and TERRY JONES for Werner Herzog's documentary about the Chauvet cave paintings discovered in 1993.

The Third Prize was won by LESLEY BURT for Rhythm, Second Prize went to GILL McEVOY for The Bardsey Apple, eifel ynys enlli, and the First Prize has been won by ANNA MERYT for the poem Bulawayo.

Congratulations to all the winners. You can now read the Judge's Report here.

Excel for Charity.

Werner Herzog’s documentary about the Chauvet cave paintings discovered in 1993.

2011-08-15T01:36:00.000+01:00

It is the cave itself
has curated these pictures,
head by equine head
horn by locked horn,
an animal colouring book
for pre-school children.

These are the animation keys
put aside for the trace and paint
of history – cached images
some thirty thousand years in loading up:
a delay long enough to see off
the Neanderthals while
Homo sapiens hung on, hung on.

The floor has been overlaid
with metal tracking
to conserve the litter
of scattered ursine vertebrae
bloated now like bulky parcels.

Smears of carbon chips
from fires that were surely
lit to show this work
at private views tread out
in this carved gorge of the Ardeche.

And currently the breached interior
presents the steel door of a strong room
which we side step through our own
permissive passageway- our weekend haunt,
East Finchley High Road where the Phoenix is.

- Terry Jones

Highly Commended in the Lupus UK International Poetry Competition 2011

Afternoon

2011-08-15T01:31:00.001+01:00

That afternoon, after you’d brought me eggs
yellow as a symbol, sun spooned on the side
of the plate, we played at words, our own
collective nouns. A shame of dirty plates.
A joy of uncorked bottles. A dusk of shades.
An urge of strokes. A heat of sheets.
An excuse of looks. A quartet of foots.
A yolk of embraces. A smudge of kisses.
Days like those – we call them a bliss.

- Clare Foges

Highly Commended in the Lupus UK International Poetry Competition 2011

Rhythm

2011-08-15T01:26:00.001+01:00

Every Sunday the key resists
just a little: reminds me
to take care, not over-wind;

on each hour, the chime spring
rustles, limbering up
before hammer hits gong;

I regulate the mainspring
when it tightens in winter nights
and expands during summer days;

the gentle pendulum rocks;
another heartbeat
in the house.

Like my grandfather,
my father, my mother,
I will not know which chime
is the last I hear.

- Lesley Burt

Third Prize Winner, Lupus UK International Poetry Competition 2011

The Bardsey Apple, eifel ynys enlli

2011-08-15T01:20:00.000+01:00

An orchard of one,
it clutches the wall of this house
for shelter from the scorch
and blast of storms.

The air is apple, seaweed,

loud with the bark of seals,
shriek of gulls,
the redshank's trill.

Blossom is brief,
torn away by wind
before the bees are out.

Summer nights are deafened
by the rush of shearwaters
shrilling back to land.

This is an orchard of salt:
in the autumn gales
the shaken apples
dried by wind.

- Gill McEvoy

Second Prize Winner, Lupus UK International Poetry Competition 2011

Bulawayo

2011-08-15T01:07:00.000+01:00

In the playground
we compare notes
to place ourselves.
Where you born then?
Watford. Harrow. London
English places.

I wait. Holding back.
Then I say it, rolling the vowel sounds
slowly on my tongue,
casual like.
Bul-a-way-o.
What? Where’s that?
Low key, shrug.
Africa.
Africa?
Wow. Then silence.
Staring at me. No one can top that.

I walk off slowly, nonchalant like.
I don’t know what Bul-a-way-o is.
I know it’s in Africa.
They tell me nothing about it.
Too busy with the present,
to bother about that past time in Africa.

I don’t care, I’m different, special,
‘cos of Bul-a-way-o.
Its mine, my place,
I came from there.
No one else does, ever.

In the album, a black and white picture
of small me on some steps in a garden
and an ‘arma-dillo’, strange creature,
in Bul-a-way-o.

I like the name
Bul-a-way-o,
where I was born.
No one can top that.

- Anna Meryt

First Prize winner, Lupus UK International Poetry Competition 2011

Lupus UK Poetry Competition 2011, Results & Judge's Report

2011-08-14T22:30:00.001+01:00

Lupus is a terrible illness that should to be better known and understood so I was pleased that a poetry competition was to be held to raise awareness about it and raise funds for the charity Lupus UK, and I was honoured to be asked to judge it.

There were a lot of entries to this very worthwhile competition and many were of a very high standard. There were a number of outstanding poems that stayed in the mind long after they had been read. I am pleased to announce the following results;

First Prize: Bulawayo by Anna Meryt

Second Prize: The Bardsey Apple, eifel ynys enlli by Gill McEvoy

Third Prize: Rhythm by Lesley Burt

Highly Commended: Afternoon by Clare Foges

Highly Commended: Werner Herzog’s documentary about the Chauvet cave paintings discovered in 1993 by Terry Jones

It was a pleasure to read so many fine poems, although that always leads to a real problem in picking prize winners, and ultimately this choice becomes very difficult and dependent on very marginal considerations. Most importantly the winning poems here were original and presented theme or narratives which were intriguing, unusual and memorable. The writing in these poems is of a high standard, but ultimately it was the subjects and the way they were approached and the treatment given that attracted attention and won out.

I thought it might be worthwhile saying something of the errors of technique or construction which caused some otherwise good poems to miss out on the final cut.

Here are a few quotes which help drive my own poetic philosophy and which I recommend every poet to consider:

Ezra Pound: “Go in fear of abstraction. The poet presents details, he doesn’t comment.”

Aristotle: “Character is revealed only through action.”

William Carlos Williams: “Ideas only through things.”

Goethe: “I no sooner have an idea than it turns into an image.”

We live in a visual age, and poets should consider the images that they work with. Images are not just visual, they are based in all the senses, so think “senses” when writing. If you have a character in a poem pick up an apple, as well as seeing the apple let the reader feel it and smell it. This will help make the fruit real and draw the reader more into the experience of the poem.

I do not like to see too many adjectives being used in poems as they draw the power from the nouns. So for me one well chosen adjective is better than a poem full of them. Adverbs on the other hand should be avoided as for me they signal a poor choice of verb. If the right verb is chosen then there is usually no need to condition it with an adverb. It is also true that the base form of the verb is far better to use whenever possible as it is more immediate and direct than other forms.

There are a couple of other issues which come up when judging competitions or editing poetry publications. The first is where a rhyming form is used and words or whole lines are included in order to follow the form and make a rhyme, rather than to develop the subject, narrative or poem. Rhyme is important, but no more important than any of the other poetic devices that can drive a poem, and there are hundreds of them. Rhyme can be obvious and intrusive and when this happens, except in very few instances, it becomes the most outstanding aspect of the poem, so we end up with a poem where form is more important than substance. Rhyme is successful when it is hardly noticed and where it helps to add emphasis and structure without taking over the poem. A very difficult balance to achieve and one that is achieved only very rarely.

The second is where words or common phrases are used which are either a cliché or unnecessary. When a poem is completed to the poet’s satisfaction, they should then put it away for a short time, before returning to it for a final edit. At this point every word needs to earn its place in the final draft. Read the poem aloud listen to what it is saying. Challenge every word for its necessity, particularly the small connective words that slip in unnoticed.

I would like to wish all entrants to the competition good luck with their writing and my congratulations to the winner, placed poets, and those commended.

Jim Bennett

Write about Childhood

2011-08-05T18:32:00.000+01:00

"And even if you found yourself in some prison, whose walls let in none of the world's sound - wouldn't you still have your childhood, that jewel beyond all price, that treasure house of memories? Turn your attention to it." - Rainer Maria Rilke

Two new competitions have now been announced at Excel for Charity on the theme of Childhood in aid of Stepping Stones Nigeria.

The Poetry competition is to be judged by Susanna Roxman author of imagining seals, while the Short Story competition is to be judged by Toni Kan, author of Nights of the Creaking Bed.

Stepping Stones Nigeria (SSN) is a UK Charity whose work saves, protects and transforms the lives of thousands of vulnerable and disadvantaged children in Nigeria. They are a small and effective charity that works from a child-rights approach doing everything in their power to ensure that children in the Niger Delta get a properhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif education, healthcare, food and protechttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.giftion. All of their partner organisations are run by inspirational Nigerians whose work goes a long way to dispel the negative stereotypes that are often held by people from outside of Nigeria. They all share a commitment to upholding the highest standards in accountability, transparency and effective service delivery. Above all, these organisations work tirelessly to bring positive change to the lives of some of the most needy children on the planet.

Learn more and enter the competitions here:

Poetry Competition

Short Story Competition

Action for Happiness, Call for submissions

2011-07-24T13:33:00.000+01:00

The Medway Poetry Group are putting together a book to be called "Action for Happiness" in verse. We have already published two books, The Medway Hour of Poetry and Medways Little Treasures.

The Medway Poetry Group are asking poets to send us poetry relating to happiness and how to become happy. There is no charge to enter poems (six max) and the poems given free but copyright remains with the poet.

To find out about Action for happiness go to www.actionforhappiness.org

Poems should be posted to www.mpghappiness.co.uk Danny Hammell a co-editor will be sorting them out. All profits on the sale of the book will go to Action for happiness. Their movement is growing all the time and is international. Any questions can be sent to terrygodwin@talktalk.net. We hope to complete this project in 3-4 months.

We will read some of the poems out when we read in the radio room of The Sunlight Centre at Gillingham with the poets' permission. We look forward to hearing from poets with their happy poems.

Terry Godwin,
www.thelaughingpoet.co.uk

The Tryangle Project Short Story Competition now open for entries

2011-07-18T22:46:00.000+01:00

We are pleased to announce that the TRYangle Project Short Story Competition 2011 on the theme of Domestic Violence and Abuse is now open for entries. This competition is adjudicated by Lancaster University Creative Writing Lecturer, and Novelist, Kate Horsley. Details of the competition are here:http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif
http://easternlightepm.com/excelforcharity/tryangle-short-story-competition-2011/

The TRYangle Project Poetry Competition 2011 now open for entries

2011-07-18T16:18:00.000+01:00

The TRYangle Project Poetry Competition 2011 is now open for entries and will close on the 10th of October, 2011. This competition is adjudicated by Gabriel Griffin, the prize-winning Founder of Poetry on the Lake and author of Campango.
Details of the competition are here:
http://www.easternlightepm.com/excelforcharity/tryangle-poetry-competition-2011/

Domestic Violence and Abuse to get the Excel for Charity treatment

2011-07-07T13:20:00.000+01:00

We are pleased to announce that Excel for Charity will run Poetry and Short Story Competitions in aid of TRYangle Project. These competitions will be announced on Monday the 18th of July, 2011 to run until October 10, 2011.

About The TRYangle Project

The TRYangle Project is a Greenwich-based charity, with an aim to increase the safety of families who experience domestic violence and abuse by providing programmes of group work and individual counselling for men and women in London and South-East England, and young people aged 13-18 years who are impacted by domestic violence.

Let's help this project.

Domestic abuse costs the tax payer £23,000,000,000 per year and two women die each week as a result of domestic violence.

TRYangle does not charge individuals for their services this ensures that all members of the community can access the services on offer. TRYangle relies heavily on funding from charitable trusts and foundations. In the past funding had been received from the local authority, police and probation in Greenwich, Lewisham and Bexley but the economic downturn has hit the third sector especially hard this year and TRYangle became a casualty of the funding cuts - which nearly forced their closure.

It is important, now more than ever,that people who believe in this cause help to support TRYangle.

Your poem or story can help to educate individuals, end violence and abuse in the home, keep families safe, reduce the cost to society and possibly even save a life.
Support the TRYangle project today!

Network with us
To ensure that you receive timely information about the Excel for Charity TYRangle Poetry and Short Story Competitions 2011 you can join our Mailing List.

You can also follow us on Twitter and Facebook.

Swale Life Poetry Competition (July 2011)

2011-07-06T07:36:00.000+01:00

Closing Date: 20-July-2011

#3 in the quarterly Swale Life international poetry competition in aid of Diversity House, a UK Charity, publishers of Swale Life Magazine (Online). This competition is administered by Eastern Light EPM as part of the Excel for Charity writing competitions series that raises money for charities whilst rewarding creative excellence.Poems must be in English Language on any subject or style with a maximum length of 40 lines. Open to every poet in every country. Poems entered must not have been previously published, posted to a website or blog. The poems must also not be under consideration for publication anywhere.

Prizes: £100, £50, £30, 2 x £10 Commendation Prizes.
Entry Fees: £3/1, £12/5 (a third of entry fees goes to Diversity House)
Judge: Mandy Pannett, Creative Writing Tutor and prize-winning author of Frost Hollow
Enter Competition Here

Poetry Competition raises £180.65 for Lupus UK

2011-07-06T06:40:00.000+01:00

The international poetry competition run by Excel for Charity for Lupus UK came to a close at midnight on 30th June, 2011. The final figures on our fund-o-meter records a total of 166 poems entered with net entry fees of £541.94. This means that the cheque we shall be sending to Lupus UK next week will be for a nice sum of £180.65p. This means that every poem entered into this competition raised just over £1.08, and we can't say thank you enough to all the poets from different nations - United Kingdom, Greece, Hong Kong, United States, Gambia, Australia, New Zealand and Canada, among others.

We are grateful to Jim Bennett for accepting to help judge this competition for us. We trust that he will do a great job. His report will be published on this website. If you would like to receive an e-mail notification when the results and judge's report are published, visit our list page and join us.

Blue Hyacinths

2009-05-16T09:08:00.000+01:00

Like bruises, she remembers thinking
as she fingered the bulbs, their paper-wafery skins
tinged with the shifting iridescence
she'd last seen on mussel-shells.

That was six weeks to a day before the grim diagnosis.
She'd chanced on them - three firm orbs peeking through
a Woolworth's bag her husband had stashed at the back
of her utility drawer - a temporary forgetfulness.

Sensing time was running out, and as surprise for him
she'd taken them, firming them in fresh compost,
and recalling his sermoning - Water, then forget them.
Best let the roots put out their filaments - had placed
the crazed porcelain bowl below the dark stair-well.

By the time the X-ray came, their tips had
nippled through, with stems pushing to fullness
the next few months on the kitchen window-sill.
He was thrilled. But, the bruises puddling hungrily
to mulberry down his leg, hadn't had chance to see,
or smell, or touch the blossoms' waxy handsomeness.

Now back from the crem under angling sun
and the mist of sherry glasses - her family long gone,
Father Dykes sliding benignly away - she catches
minor-glimpses of herself finger-tracing their bell-shapes,
their deaths already settling in.

Suddenly shudders at palls of heady fragrances,
and, repelled by their Our-Lady-blueness gaping,
that bruising insolence of living,
confesses she cannot understand
why for the life of her
he so cherished them,
year on year
on year.

- Roger Elkin

"Blue Hyacinths" won the First Prize in the Diversity House (Excel for Charity) Poetry Competition 2009

I.E.D.

2009-05-16T09:06:00.000+01:00

('Improvised Explosive Devices, known as IEDs, are the insurgents' deadliest weapon ...' The Times)

In the dark metallic silence my clock ticks
Only the beetles and soft moths stir the dust at my feet
They pause uncertainly, swivel their lunar eyes
Brush with curious antennae the black box
Of my secret

In the packed inner spaces my mind works
Only the wires and tiny switches hear the hum of my labours
They click neatly, pass orders
Measure precisely the last moments
Of my undoing

In the still air my heart bursts
Only the heat and charred walls remain of my lodging
Fragments journey, take routes
Reach blindly the brick and blood
Of their resting place

In this happening I am fulfilled
No thought or feeling mars my perfection
Safe in my purpose I have no morality
Free from the terrible burden
Of my maker

- Charles Evans

"I.E.D" by Charles Evans won the Second Prize in the Diversity House (Excel for Charity) Poetry Competition 2009.

EMPTIES

2009-05-16T09:00:00.000+01:00

It's not the silence of 3am I miss,
nor the electric purr of the float,
nor the thrill of reaching

15 miles per hour on the High Street,
nor the satin-clad housewives
who bow like geishas

to pick their pints off freezing doorsteps,
nor the taut gold sovereigns
of bottle tops

reflecting the slow sluice of sunrise,
nor the babv-sick smell of a spill
not mopped up.

What I miss
is the chatter of a thousand empties
returning to the depot:

sleighbells echoing on fresh fallen snow.

- Julie Mellor

"Empties" by Julie Mellor won the Third Prize in the Diversity House (Excel for Charity) Poetry Competition 2009.