Tuesday, 8 January 2013

The TRYangle Project Poems raise £117.32 for Charity, off to the Judge.

The TRYangle Project Poetry Competition 2012 in aid of the charity that supports victims of domestic violence closed on the 31st of December, 2012.

The competition did well with 178 entries. This good level of participation translated into the sum of £117.32 raised for the charity. We can’t thank you enough for supporting this cause with your creative work.

Your pen surely will never lack ink.

The poems have now been sent off to Gabriel Griffin. She will dig into them by the lakeside in Italy and the results will be announced on the 28th of February. Good luck all.

So what’s next?

No break. You go right ahead an enter this quarter’s Swale Life Poetry Competition. Judged by Derek Adams, this international competition will close on the 31st of January. Details here: http://www.easternlightepm.com/excelforcharity/swale-life-poetry-competition/jan-2013/index.html

Helvellyn disqualified

Following the announcement of the results of Lupus UK Poetry Competition 2012, we received some complaints from our readers who recognised Simon Jackson's Highly Commended Poem 'Helvellyn' as being the same poem as 'The Ice Storm' with which he had won the Slipstream Poets Open Poetry Competition 2011.

We are satisfied with Mr Jackson's explanation that there was no intention to deceive anyone; he had revised the poem since it won the Slipstream in 2011 and entered it in error in the Lupus competition.

Mr Jackson is happy to forego his £10 prize money and is pleased that Excel for Charity will donate the money to the charity.

We hope this brings a satisfactory close to the matter.

Nnorom Azuonye.

Monday, 7 January 2013

Home Leave

Melissa Lee-Houghton

 

Your car is pillar-box red.

Nobody will die in it.

I sit by your side and say nothing, my hands

bunched in fists in my lap.

When the lights turn

I feel you breathing.

The motorway gapes.

We are on our way to the hospital

where they greet me like a donor-

like I’m giving away both my eyes.

You are happy

when I come home with something bandaged

it looks like someone has done something.

Some weekends I come home to you.

I fill in the form

that says I don’t feel guilty, hopeless or paranoid.

We watch TV until I fall asleep

and we go to bed

like children after hot milk.

I am filled up with pain,

there’s no room for anything else.

You think you have done something wrong-

I don’t tell you otherwise.

In the morning

you pop my pills into a decanter,

a little pink plastic box

with all the days of the week.

You lock the pills in the safe.

In the heart of a safe those pills

can’t call out to me.

I can’t be tempted and

you will not be to blame.

I write poems in the hospital.

They all bang on about images

but I have nothing-

there are fourteen of us staring at walls

and scratched reinforced windows

that don’t let in the sun.

We put too many sugars in our tea

and don’t listen to anything.

Not anything that you can hear.

I pray to God.

I pray for mercy or a knife.

You come with clothes and I

brush my hair for you,

and for a moment you look so happy

I sit on your knee laughing

until my chest hurts.

 


Home Leave was highly commended in the Lupus UK Poetry Competition 2012

Before the Fog Lifted

Julie Mellor

 

Trees, fresh in bud, lost their leaves,

lichen grew overnight on walls where it would normally
take a hundred years to root. Elderberries blistered,
rosehips blackened, though there was no frost.

 

Then it rained, and the house that had stood

since the seventeenth century found its roof sagging.
Glass loosened in its small windows,

loosened and cracked.

 

The river swelled until it skimmed the footbridge

at Thurlstone, carried fertilizer bags, polystyrene packaging,
a fall pipe like a huge stick of liquorice

down the Don valley and into the city

 

where ochre water spewed over roads, rose up
through drains that could no longer cope,

surged into cellars, front rooms, lifted translations
off bookshelves, swilled them clean of words.

 


Before the Fog Lifted won third prize in the Lupus UK Poetry Competition 2012.

 

Julie Mellor lives in Penistone. She read English at Huddersfield University and has a PhD from Sheffield Hallam. Her poems have appeared in magazines and anthologies including Brittle Star, Mslexia, The Rialto and Smiths Knoll. Her pamphlet Breathing Through Our Bones was a winner in the 2011/12 Poetry Business Book & Pamphlet Competition, chosen by Carol Ann Duffy.

 

 

 

Reading Czeslaw Milosz at Mullion Island

Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé

 

Think however you like about this island, its ocean whiteness,

grottoes overgrown with vines, under violets, springs.

                 ~ Czeslaw Milosz

 

The small boat barely took the four of us.

Its oddly matching loom oar and sculling oar

looking like bony arms reaching in, to sit in John’s hands.

It was a driftboat, had a glass bottom, framed like a window.

Clear cerulean outside, as bitter cold too. One long fish brushed

the length of its side against the glass. Another swam close to it,

hesitated, then placed its lips to the surface, as if it were a mirror.

It was a long, travelling kiss, eyes open until it let go.

 

There were no Symbolists or Surrealists for miles,

the way Milosz liked it, only the sound of Shane reading a poem.

 

On the island lived the same poem, with skin like a mermaid’s,

iridescent with blue veins showing, a liquid cyan glistening.

In the light, a slow blinking like lightning bugs in the winter.

The mermaid didn’t have a name, beached herself

until she grew legs, and walked up the hill to make a home.

 

Her lodge was built within a deep cave. Its roof angular,

following the curves of the low dome, yurt-like. A cliff dwelling

in the back became a balcony, palm stairway rising to meet it.

Vines grew a few yards into the cave before the light went out.

Before the shadows greyed the walls until the inner lychgate,

where three bulbs, hung from rafters, fully lit the room.

 

The walls were a beautiful greenstone,

kept the air inside cool and dry. Ambient, inviting.

For John, Mersea Island was the taller dream, its ready farms

already tilled into their cycles. In them, pumpkins.

Raised beds of lettuce and cauliflower, peas and cucumber.

One artist had a name for every fish he painted, their scales

shedding into colour trails like drip paintings.

One curator called him an Abstract Expressionist, his index finger

joining the constellatory dots to trace Volans, then Auriga.

 

The island in the poem was just as imaginary, yet lucid.

These islands seemed to magnify themselves into strangeness,

Ciaran’s housed in its own fortress, made of Caen stone. 

 

It was a churchyard, no pews as if the terrazzo floor was enough.

In the north corner, so it avoided sundown, its dimming horizon.

There were four chairs in the chancel, rusted into black,

the others equally sombre, an antique cherry

with leatherette seat cushions for a long wait, and longer silence.

 

The lectern was simple, not shaped like an eagle

or the white pelican, but a small gull. Unadorned, half-mast eyes.

Standing on its perch, a mound of sand. Wings clipped.

No words on the hymn board, as if the thurifer had swiped the letters.

The dividers made of limed oak, over the redder sienna.

 

This time, Shane took the oars, and with a sigh, headed farther.

The Milosz poem wet with seawater, the mermaid under glass.

  

* This poem was written on 30 June 2011, to mark the birth centennial of Nobel Laureate Czeslaw Milosz. The epigraph is an excerpt from his poem “Island”.

 


Reading Czeslaw Milosz at Mullion Island won second prize in the Lupus UK Poetry Competition 2012.

 

Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé has edited more than 10 books and co-produced 3 audio books, several pro bono for non-profit organisations including Sok Sabay Cambodia, Riding for the Disabled Association, and the National Volunteer & Philanthropy Centre. His work in entertainment and lifestyle journalism at 8 Days magazine took him to Australia, France, Hong Kong and Spain, and saw him writing numerous stories, including features on Madonna, Björk and Morgan Freeman, culminating in the authorship of the limited edition Top Ten TCS Stars for Caldecott Publishing.

Trained in Professional Publishing (Books) at Stanford University, Desmond studied Sociology and Mass Communication at the National University of Singapore, and later received his Master of Theological Studies (World Religions) from Harvard University and Master of Fine Arts (Creative Writing) from the University of Notre Dame. Desmond is the recipient of the Singapore Internationale Grant, awarded to launch at the First Prague International Poetry Festival the anthology For the Love of God, which brought together 35 award-winning religious and literary contributors from across the world. His poetry and prose have appeared in more than 40 literary journals, including AGNI, Confrontation, DIAGRAM, Faultline, Gulf Coast, Harpur Palate, Harvard Review, New Orleans Review, Seneca Review, Sonora Review, and Versal, with work forthcoming in Blackbird, Cerise Press, Copper Nickel, ditch, Ganymede, and PANK.

UDAIPUR BEAT

Margaret Eddershaw

 

I thought you had just a bronchial cough,

till the doctor bustled

into our hotel room -

folded in a bright sari -

with two side-kicks,

stiff in white

bearing,

as if in a Hindu ceremony,

the sacred ECG machine.

 

My skin feels again the hot flush

that engulfed me,

as they wired you

to the oracle:

arrhythmia

                        arrhythmia

                                                  arrhythmia

they chanted

and swept you away.

 

I don't remember speaking -

to ask where you were going

or even to say Goodbye.

I felt helpless as Shiva

waving those hundreds of arms

each with its own

unsteady                 pulse.

 

And hours later,

when you returned

nonchalantly,

slept naked beside me,

I watched your chest

through the night

rise and fall

                        rise and fall

                                                rise and fall.

 


‘Udaipur Beat’ won first prize in the Lupus UK Poetry Competition 2012.

 

About Margaret Eddershaw.

For 25 years, Margaret was a professional actor and theatre academic (Lancaster University).  She had published on Bertolt Brecht and theatre history, and had six plays performed at the Edinburgh Festival and in London fringe theatres.

In 1978, she was a founder member of Lancaster Literature Festival, and up to 1989, Red Rose Theatre Company, of which she was co-director, mounted eleven productions of contemporary plays specially for the Festival. 

Margaret took up residence in Greece in 1995, and began writing poems.  Since then, she has had over 100 published in magazines (e.g. Seam, iota, Interpreter's House, Envoi, Frogmore Papers, Orbis), in anthologies (from Blinking Eye Publishing, Boho Press, Bluechrome Poets, Ragged Raven Press, New European Poets, Cinnamon Press) and won a number of prizes (Wells Literature Festival, King's Lynn Festival, Petra Kenney Competition, Poetry on the Lake).  In 2010 she won third prize in the Build Africa Poetry Competition, an Excel for Charity competition. She has given readings in Athens and London.

 

Sunday, 6 January 2013

Judge’s Report and Results, Lupus UK Poetry Competition 2012

Judge’s Report by Abegail Morley

What makes a winning poem is one that is complete in itself, one that takes the reader on a journey and surprises them with its ending. A number of poems in this competition succeeded in doing this well, which made the task of narrowing down to three winners and two Highly Commendeds quite difficult. Some of the near-misses who can't take a place, but are worthy of mention are The Stillborns by Terry Jones, with the fantastic final line "the mild unopened flowers of their eyes", Victory in the Louvre by Lynn Roberts with its rich layering of images, and two poems by Christian Ward Aortic Stenosis and Mothing, both beautiful, slightly macabre pieces. I sometimes wonder if being mentioned as "an almost there" can feel quite disappointing, but these poems worked so well and were only just pipped to the post it would have been wrong not to sing their praises.

The overall quality of the entries was high and the subjects varied. There were the usual life experiences: love, loss and death, delicately handled in many of the poems. The dream world came under scrutiny by some poets and there were a number of poems about war, which perhaps came from Remembrance Sunday being within spitting distance of the closing date.

First prize: Udaipur Beat by MARGARET EDDERSHAW (Greece)   -

The winning poem is the beautiful and unnerving Udaipur Beat, a tight piece that at the same time splays the page, using the white space to play out the scene. Within a relatively short space the poet has explained and exploded a life. From the ominous first line: "I thought you had just a bronchial cough", through to the repetition of arrhythmia arrhythmia arrhythmia, echoed later with rise and fall  rise and fall  rise and fall. The reader is under the poet's spell, falling in line with the chanting of the machine.

It is eloquently understated, transformative, and carries the reader over its terrain:

"I don't remember speaking -
to ask where you were going
or even to say Goodbye"

There is a detachment here, no saccharine sweetness, but still it binds us to it. The reader knows just how it feels to be as "helpless as Shiva / waving those hundreds of arms" when a life is lost and found again.            

Second prize: Reading Czeslaw Milosz at Mullion Island by DESMOND KON ZHICHENG-MINGÉ          (Hong Kong)

This long, dense poem effortlessly builds from its simple opening line: "The small boat barely took the four of us." This is the richest poem in the competition, wonderfully lyrical.

The poet knows exactly what they are doing and expertly guides the reader across water to an island, "On the island lived the same poem, with skin like a mermaid's", to a church, "It was a churchyard, no pews as if the terrazzo floor was enough" and then back to the boat in the final couplet, where "Shane took the oars, and with a sigh, headed farther". The language is exquisite, as if painted by an artist with a plush palette. The poem, written to mark the birth of the Nobel Laureate Czeslaw Milosz has triumphantly achieved its goal.

Third prize: Before the Fog Lifted by JULIE MELLOR (Sheffield, UK)

What I like about this poem is the depth of its images and its specificity. The lines that caught my eye over several readings were the "lichen grew overnight on walls where it would normally / take a hundred years to root". They have a magical quality to them which tangles the reader into this landscape. There is an unhurried pace to the beginning of the poem, "Elderberries blistered, / rosehips blackened, though there was no frost". It then swells, like the river Don in the poem, and tips over its edges, until it re-roots itself in the last lines, where the water "lifted translations / off bookcases, swilled them clean of words." A super ending to a well-honed poem.

Highly Commended:

Home Leave by MELISSA LEE-HOUGHTON (Lancashire, UK)

An honest, lucid insight into a life picked apart by mental illness. It shows how the small
parts of life tick onwards, even when the mind stalls. There is much to like in this poem and it has a momentum that thunders through its cloudscape.

"I write poems in the hospital.
They all bang on about images
but I have nothing".

Helvellyn by SIMON JACKSON (Edinburgh, Scotland)

This poem has been disqualified following a flood of complaints by people recognised it as being the same poem as The Ice Storm with which Mr Jackson won 1st Prize in the Slipstream Poets Open Poetry Competition 2011.

Results

Highly Commended: Home Leave by MELISSA LEE-HOUGHTON (Lancashire, UK)
Highly Commended: Helvellyn by SIMON JACKSON (Edinburgh, Scotland) - Disqualified.
Third prize: Before the Fog Lifted by JULIE MELLOR (Sheffield, UK)
Second prize: Reading Czeslaw Milosz at Mullion Island by DESMOND KON ZHICHENG-MINGÉ    (Hong Kong)
First prize: Udaipur Beat by MARGARET EDDERSHAW (Greece)

Wednesday, 2 January 2013

It’s £115.86 for Lupus UK

Dear friends,

We are pleased to let you know that we have just sent a cheque for £115.86 to Lupus UK from the competition we recently organised to raise funds for them. This amount is made up of £80.86 being a third of the net entry fees from the competition, and £35.00 being the judge’s fee which the judge Abegail Morley graciously asked us to donate to the charity. We celebrate this great spirit of giving, as much as we celebrate the support of every poet who entered this competition.

Results of the Lupus UK competition will be announced on the 5th of January, 2013.

EXCEL FOR CHARITY

Current competition

SWALE LIFE POETRY COMPETITION JANUARY 2013

Judge: DEREK ADAMS
Closing Date:
31st January 2013
Prizes: £100, £50, £30, £10 x 2 + publication in Swale Life Magazine
Entry Fees: £3/1, £12/5 (Enter as many poems as you wish)

Enter online or by post here >>