The third prize,
£100, went to Grace Ingoldby who lives in West London. There
were also six £25 runner-up prizes, as follow
in no particular order: The Bright Illusions by Lorenzo
Scabbia of Leytonstone, Flat Roof Weed by Josephine Else
of London, Anonymous Caller by Isobel Thrilling of Romford,
Wedding Day by Sue Boyle of Bath, Every Cloud
by John Godfrey of Hitchin and Caught in the Attic by Charles
Jason Lee of Lancaster.
Adjudicator's Commentary
Selima Hill writes:
I would like to thank the poets and the organisers for giving me
the opportunity of reading poems which, in my view, were of a consistently
high standard.
When I look at the content of many of the poems
I am asked to read, I often think to myself, yes, this is a poem,
but an unborn poem, the beginning of a poem. I long for the writer,
having taken the subject up, to then take it further: to 'run with
it'. Or, to put it another way, reading the poem is like sitting
in a car-park and not getting out of the
car! We have been taken to a beautiful or fascinating place but
never actually step out into it.
When I look at the form I think, does this have
to be a poem? Could it equally well be expressed in another form?
Of course I am biased, being a poet myself, but I do like to see
a poem that enjoys being a poem; that does things that only a poem
can do.
The standard, as I have said, is high, especially of the top thirty,
which I believe would stand out in the view of any judge. (As it
happens, the top three winners and one of the six runners-up all
had other poems in my short list of thirty).
The first prize-winner of the Open, Yerba's Ghost by
Nicky Arscott, impressed itself upon me by its sense of wild conviction.
On the Edge by Doreen King - all in one sentence! - combines
an irresistible verve with a painful and moving thoughtfulness.
Out Goes the Boy by Grace Ingoldby, another poem written
as though the writer really meant it, shows itself off with its
unruly ludic tone, presumtuous line-breaks and cheeky excitable
language.
The other poems of these three writers were no less seductive.
I loved them all!
My favourite title, by the way, was Poem You Will Never Read
by Elizabeth Whyman. It immediately makes you want to read on, doesn't
it? To answer the inevitable question, 'Why ?'.
My favourite single line was the last line of Goblin Market
Osama by Josephine Else: "As small men, tailed and clubbed,
climb quietly in fir woods."
From a small but select group of submissions in the separate Kick
Start Poets members' competition (see new
poems page) I have chosen the brave poem On the Ward
by Ruth Marden which brings a refreshing lightness of touch to what
was, without doubt, the most popular subject for entrants. (Others
were the tsunami, Christmas and gardening - especially potting-sheds!).
The second prize, for Going to Heaven by Tram by Roland
Challis, rewards one of the few humorous poems, not an easy genre.
I hope the final line-up offers a wide range of work which will
interest and inspire other readers as much as it has interested
and inspired me. I will conclude with the words of the Bristol poet
Rachel Boast, which say what I am trying to say much better than
I can. "Dear friend," she writes,
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