Here are the winning entries for the open poetry competition, judged by James Nash.
To see a full list of the results, click here.
↑ First Prize: Forgiveness by Tracy Davidson
I wince every time a nail is driven in, even though I'm the one wielding the hammer. I try to ignore the cries of the women pleading for mercy, for the pain to stop. I avert my eyes from the fear reflected in those of the condemned, bite back the pity. This one's different. I sense no fear in him, feel no resistance when I seize his wrists. His eyes call to me. There's a calmness in them, an acceptance of his fate, and…forgiveness. His gaze never wavers as I complete my task, an unfamiliar lump constricting my throat. I cannot explain the wetness on my cheeks as he is hauled up, the cross fixed in place. Nor can I explain the wave of love that flows through me as he dies and the earth cracks beneath my feet.
↑ Second Prize: Birthday Cake for Arthur by Caroline Bennett
You chose this wife, this life, this crazy cake flawed full of anxious love. Too long in the heat she burns, Sloping sides and breadknife scars, the baker's baffled woe. You measure carefully. The cake you make has fingersprung gold even depths, Each slice loyal. You add crackle and light to please my clapping child. Each year I make my cake with the wrong ingredients, and love. Which is all I have. You eat it anyway. You chose this wife, this life, this crazy cake.
↑ Third Prize: Dawn's Black Rock Hens by Sue Moules
I see you with your morning tea sitting in your garden the hens pecking in their stop-start way, jerky steps as they discover cucumber, soft watery taste of summer. Across the bay the sea glints with promise of another fine day, too hot for hens who'll snuggle into their coop, or scoop out a form under the bushes until afternoon eases into cool. Tonight, home from work you'll sit here again, watch their silky movements zig-zagging the garden shadows of hens scratching the dust as you look out over the sunset sea, finish your glass of wine, then lead them into the coop, lock out the fox who lurks in his redness on the edge of the picture.
|Author:||Kevin Machin||Date:||January 11, 2015 9:11 pm|
|Responses:||0 – open||Article:||3579 – published|