tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54198962256424197722024-03-19T22:40:25.788-07:00Poetry Space BlogWinning entries from Poetry Space Competitions,blog entries from Poetry Space editor, Susan Jane Sims and guests
Visit Poetry Space website at www.poetryspace.co.ukSusan Jane Simshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288997964411380551noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5419896225642419772.post-30207125676696032232016-02-17T05:52:00.000-08:002016-02-17T06:12:39.033-08:00Poetry Space Competition 2015 – FULL RESULTS<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
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I am pleased to announce the winners and commended poets in this year’s competition, selected by John Siddique. </div>
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There were 322 entries and John read them all and send his thanks to everyone. Prizes of £250, £100 and £50 will go to the top three poets. All winners and commended poets will receive a copy of the prizewinners's anthology which will comprise the top 23 poems chosen by John.</div>
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<strong>The Winners:</strong></div>
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1<sup>st</sup> Prize : <em>After the Storm. </em>Ama Bolton (UK)</div>
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2<sup>nd</sup> Prize: <em>Weeding. </em>Corin Greaves (UK)</div>
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3<sup>rd</sup> Prize: <em>I Know The Moon In All Her Phases</em>. Victoria Gatehouse (UK)</div>
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<strong>Commended poems:</strong></div>
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<em>Ghosts</em>. Susan Castillo (UK)</div>
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<em>Storm Wren</em>. Lizzie Ballagher (UK)</div>
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<em>My Grandmother’s Angels</em>. Victoria Gatehouse (UK)</div>
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<em>Fingernails</em>. Gail Dendy(South Africa)</div>
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<em>The Challenge</em>. Wendy Stern (UK)</div>
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<em>Bramble Picking</em>. David Mark Williams (UK)</div>
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<em>Next Time I Will Smudge The Painted Sky</em>. Jeanne Ellin (UK)</div>
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<em>View From A High Window</em>. Lizzie Ballagher (UK)</div>
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<em>Struck</em>. Helen Ford (UK)</div>
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<em>Nocturnal</em>. Joanne Key (UK)</div>
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<em>Pieces of Suffering</em>. Wendy Stern( UK)</div>
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<em>Rainbow</em>, Eleni Cay (UK)</div>
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<em>Garden Birds.</em> Gail Underwood (Cumbria, UK)</div>
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<em>When I Think Of You.</em> Michaela Ridgway (East Sussex, UK)</div>
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<em>Flower Power.</em> Sue Kindon (France)</div>
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<em>I Never Trusted The Light Again</em>. Beverley Ferguson (Bath, UK)</div>
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<em>This Place.</em> Eileen Harrison (The Netherlands)</div>
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<em>In A Good Place.</em> Pat Edwards (Wales, UK)</div>
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<em>Early Morning Swim.</em> Caroline Carver (Cornwall, UK)</div>
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<em>Jesse Garon.</em> Susan Castillo</div>
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<strong> </strong>Poetry Space will be publishing a prize-winners’ anthology in the late Autumn. In the meantime please scroll down to read the top three poems and find out a bit more about the poets.</div>
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Ist Prize</div>
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<strong>After the Storm</strong></div>
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sunshine on late roses,</div>
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a queue of swallows on the wire,</div>
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the sky washed clean and spread to dry:</div>
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she finds his gloves in the hall-table drawer:</div>
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leather moulded to the curl of his palms.</div>
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The smell of him,</div>
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Left, right, she draws them on.</div>
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Key deep in one pocket, jar in the other,</div>
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she gathers boots, lead, walking stick.</div>
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The spaniel dances at the door.</div>
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On the hill the wind shakes leaves</div>
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and jackdaws out of the sycamores.</div>
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Her coat flaps flightless wings.</div>
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She climbs until the sea</div>
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rises into sight, a flake of silver.</div>
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The dog bounces through heather.</div>
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Clouds hurry into the east.</div>
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Her gloved hands unscrew the lid</div>
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and tilt the jar. The last of his dust</div>
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streams out on the wind.</div>
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<strong>Ama Bolton<a data-mce-href="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Ama.jpg" href="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Ama.jpg"><img alt="Ama" class="alignright size-thumbnail wp-image-7221" data-mce-src="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Ama-210x210.jpg" src="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Ama-210x210.jpg" height="210" style="float: right;" width="210" /></a></strong></div>
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Ama Bolton is a member of the Wells Fountain Poets. Her work has appeared in<em> Magma</em>, <em>Obsessed with Pipework</em> and <em>Blithe Spirit</em> and in several anthologies, and on-line at <em>The Stare's Nest</em>.<br />
<em>What can I say? I'm surprised, thrilled, sopra la luna! I wrote this poem while walking in the Quantocks on a windy autumn day, and am delighted that it has found a home with Poetry Space.</em></div>
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<strong>John’s report</strong></div>
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<em>This poem is poignant and truthful. I love the images in it, the key in the pocket, the flapping coat. As soon as I read this poem I knew it was a winner. This is a poem that will stay with me, for all the best reasons. I feel like I met the people in this poem, and its story is delivered with grace and love.</em></div>
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<strong>2nd Prize</strong></div>
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<strong>Weeding</strong></div>
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i used to feed the weeds<br />
in our garden as a child<br />
never understanding<br />
the difference between<br />
one petal and another<br />
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for the same reason<br />
i picked her bony stem<br />
and if we were ever to marry<br />
i would lay fistful, upon fistful<br />
of dandelions at the altar<br />
and weeds would have their day</div>
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<strong>Corin Greaves<a data-mce-href="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Corin-Greaves.jpg" href="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Corin-Greaves.jpg"><img alt="Corin Greaves" class="alignright size-thumbnail wp-image-7222" data-mce-src="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Corin-Greaves-210x210.jpg" src="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Corin-Greaves-210x210.jpg" height="210" style="float: right;" width="210" /></a></strong></div>
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Corin is currently studying History and Philosophy at Bath Spa University. Once she graduates she hopes to teach. She has always had a passion for poetry, particularly the work of e e cummings and Anne Sexton, but only recently started seeing her own poems through to completion. Interested in writing intimate and honest poetry, this is the first poem Corin has shared and entered into a competition.</div>
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<em>I am absolutely over the moon, especially because I don’t usually consider my poems worth finishing, let alone sharing. This has been a great confidence boost and I definitely intend to write more!</em></div>
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<strong>John’s report</strong></div>
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<em>I love simple clear writing, and I love humanity. This poem is full of both, as well as innocence, vulnerability and hope.; the things that are actually the real strengths of being human. This poem made me dance with joy.</em></div>
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3<sup>rd</sup> Prize</div>
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<strong> </strong><strong>I Know The Moon In All Her Phases</strong></div>
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i Biopsy</div>
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Tonight, there’s a dressing taped to my breast.</div>
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I draw curtains and she’s there, scalpel-thin</div>
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behind glass, the shadowed part invisible</div>
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to the naked eye. Tomorrow, someone</div>
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in a white coat will stain and mount my cells,</div>
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adjust the focus on the microscope, sip tea</div>
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from the machine, discuss last night’s soaps,</div>
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search for an expanded nucleus, a distorted edge.</div>
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ii Stage IIB</div>
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The doctors are teaching me a new language -</div>
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invasive and nodes and metastases,</div>
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words I never needed to know before this</div>
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and I’m rolling them around my mouth,</div>
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their aftertaste of sickness and fear and now</div>
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she’s bloated up, her steroid-face taking over</div>
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the window as I open the fridge, the next dose</div>
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here between the Marmite and the Dairylee.</div>
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iii The Field</div>
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The earth is warm beneath my back;</div>
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behind closed lids, the rage and permanence</div>
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of the sun. If I opened them there would be</div>
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a plump-cheeked child threading daisy chains,</div>
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a man with a prayer in his eyes and the moon</div>
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hanging on the edge of this daytime sky;</div>
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I sense her slow spin, know her</div>
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to be part blown, like a dandelion clock.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<strong>Victoria Gatehouse<a data-mce-href="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/VictoriaGatehouse.jpg" href="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/VictoriaGatehouse.jpg"><img alt="VictoriaGatehouse" class="alignright size-thumbnail wp-image-7223" data-mce-src="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/VictoriaGatehouse-210x210.jpg" src="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/VictoriaGatehouse-210x210.jpg" height="210" style="float: right;" width="210" /></a></strong></div>
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Victoria Gatehouse lives in West Yorkshire. Her poems have appeared in magazines and anthologies including <em>Mslexia, Magma</em>, <em>The Rialto, Poetry News, The Interpreter’s House, Prole, Furies </em>and <em>Her Wings of Glass</em>. Competition placements include Ilkley, Mslexia, Poetry News Members’ Competition, Prole Laureate and The Interpreter’s House. Victoria is a member of the Hebden Bridge <em>Bookcase Poets</em>.</div>
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<em>Poetry Space is a great platform for both new and established poets so I was thrilled to hear that two poems of mine had been placed in this competition. As an admirer of John Siddique's work, it was incredibly self-affirming that he selected these poems. Looking forward to seeing the anthology!</em></div>
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<strong><em>John’s report</em></strong></div>
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<em>I love the narrative of this poem, which takes us through an experience which other lesser poets would have bludgeoned the reader with. The short line music brings an insistence to the images. From a nucleus through the language of cancer, through death and back to the everyday; this poem is an incredible journey, which I am thankful for.</em></div>
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John’s feedback on the commended poems will be published in the prize winners ‘ anthology. All that is left to say is a BIG THANK YOU from Poetry Space to everyone who entered the competition. All profits help Poetry Space to widen participation in poetry and bring more poets to recognition.</div>
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<strong>John Siddique</strong></div>
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<a data-mce-href="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/poetry-space-competition/john-siddique-for-web/" href="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/poetry-space-competition/john-siddique-for-web/" rel="attachment wp-att-6337"><img alt="" class="alignright size-thumbnail wp-image-6337" data-mce-src="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/John-Siddique-for-web-210x210.jpg" src="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/John-Siddique-for-web-210x210.jpg" height="210" style="float: right;" title="John Siddique for web" width="210" /></a></div>
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Described ‘as one of the best poets of our generation’ by novelist Bina Shah, John Siddique grew up in a household without books, however his discovery of his local library as a child began a lifelong love affair with words and literature. He started writing poetry in 1991 after reading the work of ee cummings, Walt Whitman and DH Lawrence.</div>
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John’s poems, essays and articles have appeared in <em>Granta</em>, <em>The Guardian</em>,<em> Poetry Review</em>, <em>The Rialto</em> and broadcast on BBC Radio 4. His poetry collections for adults include the critically acclaimed <em>Recital </em>(2009)<em> and Full Blood</em> (2011) and a book for children, <em>Don’t Wear It On Your Head </em>was shortlisted for the CLPE poetry award in 2007. Awards include a Hawthornden Fellowship, Honorary Creative Writing Fellow (Leicester University) and Fellowship of the Royal Society of Arts.</div>
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He has been a resident poet in a variety of venues including Manchester Art Gallery, HMYOI Wetherby and Los Angeles for the British Council. He is currently Royal Literary Fund Fellow at York St John University.</div>
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This was John's address to poets when the competition was opened:</div>
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Dear poets</div>
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I’m really looking forward to receiving your poems for the 2015 Poetry Space Competition. I welcome your entries with an open heart and mind. It might be interesting if you would for a minute put yourself in your correspondent’s shoes, imagine you had been asked to judge this competition, what kind of poems would you want to see? One of the greatest mistakes I make with my writing at times, is where I lose sight of the reader. I’m not saying we should try and write to please that person, but perhaps we should write to please our own inner reader, not our writer. I have never thought of myself as a poet or writer, those are given titles, I am only a reader who occasionally finds himself thinking or feeling, ‘I’d love to read a book or a poem on…’ Yet on looking, it is as if there is a gap on the shelf, and no one has written the book I want to read. I take that always as a message from the universe or the muses telling me that it is my job then to write what needs to be written. So please send those poems, the ones that only you could write – essential and without cliché.</div>
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I’ll be honest with you, after being a reader and being on the planet as long as I have been I am not interested nor am likely to choose poetry that’s been designed to win a competition, there are many tricks poets have up their sleeves to make an impression, but I’m just John and I tend to be moved by literature which ascribes to human values and experience, that deals with our dignity and openness. Send me some real poetry that changes the world and life of the reader because it speaks of something essential about life, poetry that only you can bring to the page through your words, music and art, something that is a spark of life that will find a home in the heart of the reader.</div>
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I remember chatting with my friend, the late and sorely missed Glyn Hughes, about poems that become your friends. He would often discuss the dangers of coming from an ego place in our writing, and how his can manifest in so many ways, so that we don’t create something essential. Glyn would also talk about how the poems he loved were always with him; he could rely on them. If you have something you feel is like that up your sleeve, I’d love to see it. If you want to know more about my own writing ethos there is an artistic statement at <a data-mce-href="http://www.johnsiddique.co.uk/" href="http://www.johnsiddique.co.uk/">www.johnsiddique.co.uk</a> that pretty much tells you all you need to know, but I want to see your poems, your moments of life, written so that the spark still lives between the words and syllables.</div>
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With gratitude</div>
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John Siddique</div>
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Susan Jane Simshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288997964411380551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5419896225642419772.post-45242123606020778022014-12-26T14:45:00.000-08:002014-12-26T14:45:11.734-08:00<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">INDUSTRIAL ACTION<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">The pudding’s made<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">the turkey stuffed<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">the cards displayed<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">I’m </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">almost</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> chuffed</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">but Santa’s elves have gone on strike</span></i><span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">does anyone know how to wrap a bike?</span></i><span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">The family’s here<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">the party starts<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">there’s Christmas cheer<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">and mincemeat tarts<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">though Santa’s elves have gone on strike</span></i><span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">the child </span></i><i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">learns how</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> to
ride a bike</span></i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">We rush outside<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">to play in snow<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">then back inside<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">for </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">kissing under mistletoe</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">as Santa’s elves have gone on strike</span></i><span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">we need to learn to clean a bike</span></i><span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">On Boxing Day we take a walk<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">while children ride<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">the grown-ups talk<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">then bicycle and tree collide<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">and Santa’s elves are still on strike</span></i><span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">does anyone know how to mend a bike?</span></i><span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><b>Daphne Milne</b></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><b>RECIPE</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Turkey, sprouts, roast potatoes,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">pudding, brandy butter, ice cream,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">cheese, biscuits, coffee, nuts, port.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Aunts, uncles, cigars, excess</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Grandparents snoring by the fire</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">,</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Nine lessons and carols from King’s</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">mince pies, more brandy butter<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">parcels under the green fir tree</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">e</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">lderly films, older comedians,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Christmas specials, tinsel, fake snow</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">big white cake with wonky Santa<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">All the joys of family Christmas<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">not to be missed by anyone,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">no excuses, the annual beanfeast</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">just before the New Year’s <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">silence, sobriety, diet - hell.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><i><b>Daphne Milne</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><b>Sales Fever</b></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><b> (With apologies to John Masefield)</b><br />
<br /><br />
<br />
I must go down to the sales again where the sharpened elbows fly<br />
And all I ask is a warm coat and a hat to keep me dry<br />
And a loud crowd on a cold night in a long line snaking<br />
For a rare treat or a new suite, it’s all there for the taking.<br />
<br />
<br />
I must go down to the sales again to join the swelling tide<br />
Till nine o'clock when the doors unlock and the shoppers flood inside<br />
And all I crave is a full store with wonders overflowing<br />
And a wild rush as the crowds push for every bargain going.<br />
<br />
<br />
I must go down to the sales again to a day of stress and strife<br />
Where the kick and the pinch won't make me flinch from the bargain hunting life<br />
And all I need are credit cards with enough cash to cover<br />
And time to flaunt the prizes bought when the hurly-burly's over.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><i><b>Martin John</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">AFTER CHRISTMAS<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s the arse-end of the
year.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Everyone’s bored and
gloomy, or ill.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Weather’s normal – not
warm, not dry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Chugging under the bridge<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">where we got stuck last
night,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">we get stuck again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Finally out of city sprawl
– <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">graffiti, drowned bikes,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">floating cans and
dereliction – <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">the extension straight as
a Roman road<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">glitters ahead. The rain’s
stopped.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We pootle on towards a New
Year.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Jo Waterworth</i></span></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
Susan Jane Simshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288997964411380551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5419896225642419772.post-13166695441725382522014-12-25T14:21:00.000-08:002014-12-25T14:21:08.021-08:00Christmas Day poems<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Christmas Lights<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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Every bush and tree round here</div>
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Looks like it's lit by magic</div>
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(Presumably some Elvish power). </div>
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It's glorious (or tragic</div>
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Depending on your point of view) - </div>
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There's red and white and mostly blue</div>
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And every darkening hour</div>
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They turn the streets a queer</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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Mix of shades. It's quite unclear</div>
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If this improves the celebration</div>
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Or reinforces, like the cars, the skis,</div>
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The patios, the decoration</div>
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Of the trees inside, and all we do,</div>
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The outdoing of each other. B & Q?</div>
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It's a jungle. We crowd, mewling, like celebrities, </div>
<br />
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Get me out of here. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Michael Docker</b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b>Without Mince Pies<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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Let's do without mince pies this year.</div>
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I wonder if the skies, this year</div>
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Will fall, if we should try this year</div>
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To do without mince pies?</div>
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<br /></div>
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It will be thought a crime, I'm sure,</div>
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But mince pies all the time? I'm sure</div>
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Although they are sublime, I'm sure</div>
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</div>
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We'd cope without mince pies.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Michael Docker</b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
Susan Jane Simshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288997964411380551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5419896225642419772.post-71218087113843609612014-12-24T12:56:00.005-08:002014-12-24T12:56:49.380-08:00Poems for Christmas Eve<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The first of our Christmas poems. Happy Christmas!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">One Wise Man</span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">His missus sighed, “I suppose
you’re</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">off chasing stars again this
year? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Where to this time?”</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">“Bethlehem.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">“And where the heck is that?”</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">“Two full-moons west of here.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">“Well I never. Better hire</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">a herd of camels, take a good</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">supply of dates and presents.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Gold, frankincense and myrrh </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">are quite in vogue this year.”</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">“Gold! Camels! Presents!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Giving them away!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Not much profit there, I’d say.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">“Exactly! So tell the other three
they’re </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">going on their own this year. Let’s
holiday </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">away together – just you and me; </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I hear The Valley of the Kings has
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">great weather this time of the
year.”</span></div>
<br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">“I’ll go and pack my dear.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<i><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Mike Lee</span></b></i></div>
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<i><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></b></i></div>
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<i><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></b></i></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Walking
in Woods on Christmas Eve </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Nothing is missing<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">in this forest of pine trees<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">look, Christmas presents<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b> Johanna Boal </b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></b></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Jingle Bells</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Every Father Christmas in the world rocked up,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">to protest against the commercialisation <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">of Christmas,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">faces upturned to the heavens,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">pleading for some respite from mock reindeers <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">in shopping malls,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">and flashy toys, baubles and billowing cheeks <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">of cherubs blowing silver trumpets,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">past which rivers of people flow<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">on escalators, to plastic Utopias<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">“We love the Christmas carols,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">but we feel like stuffed turkeys in our red garb<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">and caps,” chanted one Father Christmas,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">while the others chorused:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">“Enough is enough, we are on strike.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">On the way to the protest point<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">each Father Christmas<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">was given a wand by a real fairy<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">who said her place had been usurped<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">by gaudy imitations<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">on top of artificial trees<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">They had never been on a protest march,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">so could Father Christmas<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">wave a magic wand and turn <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">each bogus fairy into a frog<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">“We will do that and more,”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">sang the Father Christmas strikers<br />
”We will turn every bright bauble<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">and piece of tinsel that we see,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">into a partridge in a pear tree.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Clarissa McFairy</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I counted the cakes I’d made:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Rich fruit
cakes, iced and decorated with flowers</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">red roses,
delicate yellow freesias,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">open daisies,
from the fortieth to</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">the sixty
fourth of my parents’ anniversaries.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Christmas
cakes, rich and fruity, or apple light</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> for every year of my marriage,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">including
the first we left in the oven</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">while we
went back to bed, letting it burn.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Novelty
birthday cakes,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">owls,
witches, castles, cars, a big red dice,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> football pitches complete with players </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I forgot to
return to my friend,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">and
underneath, layers of sponge</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">filled with
jam, or gooey chocolate cake, or gingerbread.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">A hundred
scones once for cream teas, at school</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> flap jacks, brownies for the fair, a cake</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> for each cub and scout trip</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">my boys made
‘so they’d have something from home’ –</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">the leader’s
words. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> Still to count the weekday</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">cup cakes or
the Sunday treats I called a halt, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">went on
strike. Said that’s it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The
kitchen’s closed to cake.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It lasted
for two whole years and then </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I went back
in, made a Christmas cake,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">marzipaned
it, iced it, then armed with food dyes: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">red, blue,
yellow, green, silver, gold</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> I splashed the surface with colour</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">like Jackson
Pollock.</span></div>
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</div>
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<o:p><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Susan Jane Sims</span></b></o:p></div>
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Susan Jane Simshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288997964411380551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5419896225642419772.post-54937799449176508162014-12-22T04:04:00.005-08:002014-12-22T04:04:50.217-08:00<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<strong>Poetry Space Competition 2014 - FULL RESULTS</strong></div>
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<strong><br /></strong></div>
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Poetry Space Competition closed this year (its fifth) with 223 entries and these included submissions from across the UK and Ireland, South Africa, Canada, Australia, USA, France and Greece.</div>
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The winning poems were selected by Alison Brackenbury (photo right) who has provided a detailed report on her choices. (scroll down for this). We really appreciate Alison doing this. She did a fabulous job and in the sweltering summer heat as you'll see from her report...</div>
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I would like to say a sincere thank you to everyone who entered and warm congratulations to the winners, the highly commended poets and the runners up. Twenty poems in all from nineteen poets will feature in the new anthology. For want of a better title I have decided to call this<em><strong> For want of a better word</strong>, </em>the title of Glen Wilson's winning poem.</div>
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Thanks are due too, to Johanna Boal who did a sterling job promoting the competition for Poetry Space and the growing number of <em> friends of poetry space</em> who handed out flyers and told their friends.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<strong>The top three winners are:</strong></div>
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1st: Glen Wilson - <em>For Want of a better word </em></div>
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2nd: Robin Muers - <em>He's settled in quite well</em></div>
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3rd: Angie Butler <em>'Son, you're 42'</em></div>
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<em><br /></em></div>
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<strong>Seven highly commended poems:</strong></div>
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Margaret Eddershaw: <em>Scattering</em></div>
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Martin Fuller: <em>Bullet Points</em></div>
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Claire Williamson: <em>She thought her father was a butcher</em></div>
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Patrick Lodge: <em>C'an Freixa</em></div>
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Susan Latimer: <em>Tea Time Truce</em></div>
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Kay Cotton: <em>The Mason</em></div>
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Gail Dendy: <em>The edge of the world</em></div>
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<em><br /></em></div>
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<strong>Ten more for publication:</strong></div>
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Di Coffey: <em>Hands</em></div>
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Elaine Taylor: <em>Uncle Ruby</em></div>
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Derek Stanley: <em>Out Patience</em></div>
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Jo Waterworth: <em>Widdershins</em></div>
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Roger Caldwell: <em>Going to Coventry</em></div>
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David Lukens: <em>A Circular Life</em></div>
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Anthony Watts: <em>The Bright Room</em></div>
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Denni Turp: <em>Can You Hear Me? Are You Still There?</em></div>
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Ama Bolton: <em>Unfairy Tale</em></div>
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Ama Bolton: <em>Brown Sugar</em></div>
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<strong>Glen Wilson, </strong>the winner of Poetry Space Competition had this to say:</div>
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<em>I was thrilled when I got the phone call to say that I had won the Poetry Space Competition. It is always great to hear that your work has been enjoyed by another and judged worthy of winning a prize (my first!) as well has made it incredibly encouraging. I am also looking forward to seeing the anthology come out in the future as well. Thanks Poetry Space!</em></div>
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<em><br /></em></div>
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<strong>For want of a better word</strong></div>
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I wrote only one note today;</div>
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it said remember to pick up some milk.</div>
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The Smiths always forget the milk.</div>
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They hold then use me roughly,</div>
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though I suppose I can’t complain</div>
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I do have regular employment.</div>
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I don’t work for a calligrapher, dancing</div>
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elegantly on certificates or a screenwriter</div>
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creating Oscar winning scripts.</div>
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</div>
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Those pens have their own velvet homes</div>
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while I have been known to be abandoned</div>
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in untold places like a common pencil,</div>
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</div>
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wedged behind his wax leaking ear,</div>
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my end chewed by her cherry</div>
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red lips as she looks at the crossword.</div>
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I remember the year spent lost</div>
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down the back of the sofa, ink tears</div>
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staining loose change and dust.</div>
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Eventually they found me again</div>
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as Mrs Smith scribbled a phone number down</div>
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and smiling handed it to the milkman.</div>
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</div>
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Later I watch Mr Smith pick up another pen</div>
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<em>(a biro!)</em> scribble out a letter and leave</div>
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it on the bedside table.</div>
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</div>
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All I can see from the dresser are the words</div>
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<em>trust </em>and<em> goodbye</em>. She cries as she reads</div>
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these words and all the words between.</div>
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I hope that someday she might use me</div>
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to pour out her thoughts, because every pen</div>
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wants to leave an epigram before it dries.</div>
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<strong>Glen Wilson</strong></div>
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<strong><br /></strong></div>
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<a data-mce-href="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/poetry-space-competition/glen-wilson-photo/" href="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/poetry-space-competition/glen-wilson-photo/" rel="attachment wp-att-5968"><img alt="" class="alignright size-thumbnail wp-image-5968" data-mce-src="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/Glen-Wilson-Photo-210x210.jpg" height="210" src="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/Glen-Wilson-Photo-210x210.jpg" style="float: right;" title="Glen Wilson Photo" width="210" /></a></div>
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<em>Glen Wilson lives in Portadown, Co Armagh with his wife Rhonda and children Sian and Cain. He works as a Civil Servant in Belfast in Statistics and Research.</em></div>
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<em>Glen was part of the Millennium Court Arts Centre Writing group in Portadown for 5 years. His work has been published in Black Mountain Review, Iota, A New Ulster and The Interpreters House. In 2007 He was short listed for the Strokestown Poetry Festival’s Satire Prize. His influences include Leonard Cohen, Seamus Heaney, George Szirtes, Pablo Neruda, and his Christian faith.</em></div>
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<em> He is currently working on his first collection of poetry.</em></div>
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When told of his prize <strong>Robin Muers</strong> had this to say:</div>
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<br /></div>
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<em>Really pleased, especially so because this particular poem had been through very many previous versions and major alterations.</em></div>
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<em><br /></em></div>
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<strong>He’s settled-in quite well,</strong></div>
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<br /></div>
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they’d like to think. Today requires</div>
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a sun hat, wise ones say. I’m placed</div>
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beside a healthy drink, then left</div>
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to find my own excitement, like:</div>
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</div>
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a crocodile stalks the patio table,</div>
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grabs a wine glass in its teeth.</div>
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(My finger’s arthritically bent</div>
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to make the light for croc’s bright eye.)</div>
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</div>
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Let’s have some other guests! A bunch</div>
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of terracotta frogs in Afro wigs</div>
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- seductive scent deployed! (Official</div>
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description: pots of petunia.)</div>
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</div>
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Why these games? Because it’s far</div>
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too ‘sensible’ in here: the hand brake</div>
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<em>must</em> be ‘on’ both sides of chairs</div>
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- all that. I’ve had enough. But look:</div>
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</div>
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above our <em>Silver-Safe Community</em></div>
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a gang of swifts tears round the sky.</div>
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They’re calling me to pass the ball</div>
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through fading light. I leave with them.</div>
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</div>
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<strong>Robin Muers</strong></div>
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<em>Robin Muers studied history at university and subsequently qualified as a solicitor. He worked in various jobs in local government and the public sector before retiring some years ago. Although always interested in contemporary poetry, he did not make many attempts to write his own until the current century was well under way. If he wants a poetry book to take on a train journey, a John Burnside collection is most likely to be picked off the shelf. Robin enters a number of poetry competitions – partly because that gives an incentive to ‘finish and polish’.</em></div>
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<strong>Angie Butler</strong> had this to say:</div>
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<em>Finding Poetryspace has made a huge difference to my life.</em></div>
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<em>The daily time to write for the Photo and Poetry Competition allowed me to voice every emotion and to fend off depression and access acceptance and healing.</em></div>
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<em> I would write and rewrite my emotions. I would have hope that my voice might be heard by an uninvolved stranger. I was inspired to run a competition for other writers to feel the comfort and joy I myself had received.</em></div>
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<strong>Son, you're 42</strong></div>
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The chocolate licked off.</div>
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The conquest done.</div>
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Now on to another.</div>
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A different one.</div>
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To woo, to ravage.</div>
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To make my own.</div>
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Then leave.</div>
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Go home.</div>
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Go home alone.</div>
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<strong>Angie Butler</strong></div>
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<em>Angie Butler is a teacher who has always written. Published in several books and magazines, she has researched Land Girls in WW2 and created books and cards to support her work. A founder member of The Penzance Literary Festival, she holds workshops for all ages and abilities. Her story ‘Bodelva’ was performed by the Bournmouth Symphony Orchestra and 600 children, celebrating the 10<sup>th</sup> anniversary of The Eden Project in Cornwall. She was honoured as Citizen of the Year 2012 and Cornish Woman of the Year 2014 in Penzance, for her help in community projects.</em></div>
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<strong>Copyright of all poems printed here remains with their authors - please don't reproduce without permission.</strong></div>
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<strong>Honestly’…</strong></div>
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<strong>Competition Report for the Poetry Space Competition, 2014</strong></div>
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Poems must be convincing. I do not believe that they always need to be honest. But I think that an account of judging them should be. It is possible to develop rather grand theories about judging poetry. (I have one or two myself!) But here is an honest account of how my chosen twenty poems shook themselves free from the invitingly fat pile of entries for the Poetry Space Competition, in the summer of 2014.</div>
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Throughout a couple of blazing weeks in July, sustained by blinds, choc ices, and two supportive cats, I read all of the poems, several times. I pored over my ‘Yes’, ‘No’, and ‘Maybe?’ files repeatedly. But the poems which first captivated, and moved me the most, continued to do so. My affection for them did not waver with the blinds, or melt with the ice cream.</div>
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What did I most admire, about this competition’s three (very varied) prizewinners? All of these poems had depth. Glen Wilson’s winning poem, ‘For want of a better word’, has a story which enthralled me. I will not reveal its twists! After clever flirtations with humour and cliché, this poem swiftly turns into an account of love, with an ending of real pathos.</div>
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Many poems in competitions tackle the subject of age. But the winner of the second prize, Robin Muers’s ‘He’s settled in quite well,’ is one of the best and most surprising I have ever read on this theme. Its speaker, ‘placed […] then left’ in a wheelchair, is mentally as quick as the swifts in the summer skies above him.</div>
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It takes courage to enter a very short poem for a competition. I am delighted that Angie Butler did so. ‘Son, you’re 42!’, the third prizewinner, has only nine lines. But it places the weight of a whole lifetime’s mistakes behind its closing rhyme.</div>
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Was it difficult to thin out the remaining pile into seven Highly Commended, and ten poems for the competition anthology? Honestly, yes. Many poems were re-read, then put back with a sigh.</div>
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I felt that all the Commended poems had exceptional force, in very different ways. Margaret Eddershaw’s ‘Scattering’ arrested me by its final line. Martin Fuller’s ‘Bullet Points’ was both absorbing and surprising. Physical vividness and emotional mystery marked Claire Williamson’s ‘She thought her father was a butcher’. ‘C’an Freixa’, by Patrick Lodge, achieved descriptions of irresistible beauty. I found ‘Tea Time Truce’, by Susan Latimer, uncompromisingly moving. Kay Cotton’s ‘The mason’ carefully deepened into primitive power. ‘The edge of the world’, by Gail Dendy, set the whole force of its length behind a bravely expansive ending.</div>
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From my selection of poems for the anthology, I admire the haunting scents of Di Coffey’s poem ‘Hands’, and the often disturbing detail of Elaine Taylor’s ‘Uncle Ruby’. I think many readers will recognise the quiet rhythmic truth of Derek Stanley’s ‘Out Patience’, and the child-like sensuality of Jo Waterworth’s ‘Widdershins’. I am haunted by the unfolding sadness of Roger Caldwell’s ‘Going to Coventry’, shocked and impressed by the tough heroine of David Lukens’ ‘A circular life’. Virtual life is vivid in Anthony Watts’ The Bright Room’; an intricate music in Denni Turp’s sestina, ‘Can You Hear Me? Are You Still There?’ Finally, I greatly relished the crisp couplets of ‘Unfairy Tale’, and the deft humour of ‘Brown Sugar’. The judging was, of course, completely anonymous. When I learnt that both poems were by Ama Bolton, I still felt that these two skilful poems deserved their placing on their own, very different merits.</div>
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Why did some poems not escape from my ‘Maybe?’ folder. There were poems, excellent in parts, which showed flaws which I often see in my own writing. Some poems started strongly, then tailed off. Others had arresting diction, yet a lack of rhythmic lift, like a beautiful skin with no muscles to make it move. But there were many poems which did work well, and which I would very much have liked to smuggle into my ‘Yes!’ folder.</div>
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I have had the privilege of judging many competitions, both national and local. I think that Poetry Space is one of the most generous I have encountered. Many contests have only a few winning poems, which do not appear in print. Poetry Space has ten winners, including the Highly Commended, and publishes twenty of its entries. Statistically, you have an exceptionally good chance of being rewarded for entering this competition!</div>
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The standard of entries was high this year, and a significant number of the unplaced poems might well have been favoured by a different judge. (Poetry judging is not an exact science.) So, to all who entered, my thanks for letting me read your varied and thought-provoking poems. And please do enter again. Honestly,</div>
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2015 could be the year <strong>you </strong>win the Poetry Space Competition!</div>
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<strong>Alison Brackenbury</strong></div>
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The top three will receive prizes of £250, £100 and £50 respectively and complimentary copies of the anthology.</div>
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Twenty poems in all will be published in the prizewinner's anthology.</div>
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Susan Jane Simshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288997964411380551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5419896225642419772.post-59387630576381308402014-02-14T16:46:00.001-08:002014-02-14T16:46:16.664-08:00Just created the PoetrySpace app - check it out on any phone!<a href="http://mippin.com/app/652657">Just created the PoetrySpace app - check it out on any phone!</a>:Susan Jane Simshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288997964411380551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5419896225642419772.post-4212299214502536932014-02-11T03:10:00.003-08:002014-02-15T09:17:02.325-08:00Celebration and Curiosity - Joan Poulson<div class="MsoNormal">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joan Poulson </td></tr>
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My passion for poetry and thythm was ignited by Granfer, a
tall, generally silent man, deafened in a coal-mining accident at the age of nineteen.</div>
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I never asked where Granfer’s love of poetry and the spoken
word came from - unlikely to have been from home. He used the
public library regularly and, as a lad, had been fascinated by the Mummers. He
often made up songs round my name, laughing as he roared them aloud, told me
tales of his boyhood, his mate Joe Tie and sometimes chanted lines from the
Mummers play:</div>
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<i> It cures the itch, the pitch, the pain,
the gout, <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i> the pain within and the pain without.
<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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Best of all were days when he would take me on his lap and read
aloud from one of his two books. They never left him, those pocket-sized copies
of the <i>Rubaiyat of</i> <i>Omar Khayyam</i>, the poems of Robert Burns.
I sat for as long as he chose to read. </div>
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From birth until I was four I lived with my parents in a
run-down cottage surrounded by scrubby grass with no neighbours or transport of
any kind. My only companions were, briefly two goat kids and whatever I found
to interest me in the ‘garden’. Plants and small creatures, whatever I saw and
touched, sniffed, picked and tasted I grew to love.</div>
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When my Mam and I moved to a council estate Granfer came
most days to see us. </div>
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I look back on these as as highly significant. Granfer’s
tales often involved the natural world. When he strode into our back yard I
always hoped for a ‘walk’, a fairly silent time when he would raise me up onto
his shoulders, stride away from the streets, main road and traffic to the
nearest scrap of countryside. I especially loved our outings to the Rabbit
Warren. On reaching the lane I would be lowered and instructed: <i>Use your eyes. Use your ears, my Jo. </i>Then
I trotted beside him, asking questions but silent as we approached the warren.</div>
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Curiosity and a delight in rhyme were further fostered at
primary school. Each day I sat transformed as our top class teacher read aloud from
prose and poetry, teaching us poetry by heart. He played the piano several
times a week, taught us folk songs and, at the end of each day, accompanied us
as we sang a hymn. </div>
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It was around this age that I began to fantasise about the
night sky. In bed, light out, I travelled in my mind, experienced the enormity
of the sky-world. A fascination for the sky and what might lie ‘beyond’ has
never left me, encouraging me to attempt to read about modern physics and the
natural sciences.</div>
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I have always tried to encourage the children and young
people with whom I work to share my fascination with the natural world - black holes, bower birds, black bees, mountain
hares, rhinos, ants, trees and the insects that live on them. </div>
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In March this year Grey Hen publish my chapbook for adults <i>Tequila and shooting stars</i> - an
intriguing selection of poems around my travels including work I have been
surprised and delighted to make. </div>
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With <i>Tequila</i> ready
for publication I am, at last, ready to focus on work around a lifelong
fascination in Nature with a new and celebratory children’s collection. My
first-ever collection was for small children and published by international childrens
charity UNICEF: <i>Celebration</i> (1993).</div>
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I hope my most recent collection will be memorable, drawing
on years of believing that our world, Universe and whatever lies beyond is unique,
astonishing, magnificent. That it can be weird and terrifying. It will be
celebratary, enriched, I hope, by my experiences as writer and poet, tutor and
editor and by my travels. I have benefitted greatly from spending time, working
with and learning from people in Canada, India, Norway and in the U.S: New
Mexico, California, Vermont.</div>
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One of the most useful pieces of advice I was given early in
my career was If you want to write good poems you must read good poems*.
Reading widely, especially from contemporary and early C20<sup>th</sup> poetry
and attending writing courses has been invaluable. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsOoxWz3CPujo4gU4bfMkA-XM7p6TKwuYhiC6nkqauIEtuNvnVtH2VkBoXJygAtZv6KSw9jtXLmVYu6juNA-MYrnXZhHZ6Wxt0oRzisDG1Uj93NCgalYnnXHFpXZ0O8l_3ozbkvrO9mRVz/s1600/love+of+nature.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsOoxWz3CPujo4gU4bfMkA-XM7p6TKwuYhiC6nkqauIEtuNvnVtH2VkBoXJygAtZv6KSw9jtXLmVYu6juNA-MYrnXZhHZ6Wxt0oRzisDG1Uj93NCgalYnnXHFpXZ0O8l_3ozbkvrO9mRVz/s1600/love+of+nature.JPG" height="320" width="269" /></a>I compare my process when beginning a project or commission to
that of tracking a wild animal. For me this means taking time with, perhaps. some
research. Play is essential - with colour (paint or textiles), using all
my senses as I examine plants, weeds, herbs in my small garden or while taking
a walk - not
necessarily to the countryside, even streets and gardens of the suburbs can surprise
and nourish.</div>
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Some years ago I taught alongside an American artist on a
residential course. She recommended journalling to our students and since then
I have always had one to hand. I scribble in ideas, thoughts, notes, add
quotations from newspapers, overheard conversations, tv with clippings from
every possible source. It has become habitual.</div>
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If I am considering a new project or commission I often turn
to these journals, make an intuitive selection and place on my work-table with
plain paper and other notes/ reading materials. Then, for perhaps thirty
minutes, I paint, go outdoors - in my garden or wandering round the block or
nearby memorial gardens. </div>
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Feeling ready, I engage in my simple coffee-making ritual, pour
out a small mug of coffee and focus for two or more hours………..dipping into journals,
etc. mind flowing lightly as I jot down anything of particular interest. </div>
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This process continues for another day or two or until I
have enough ideas and phrases for a first draft. Then I put this aside to
return with a fresh eye next day or in a few days. Once I have some shape I
read through my embryo poem aloud, again and again as I edit. I find this to be
most useful. For me I gain deeper understanding and a stronger editorial voice
if I read work aloud. Unless a word or phrase deserves a place in my poem, clarifying or enriching
in some way I delete it.</div>
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A good poem can be rich as hot Venetian chocolate but must
be sleek as a mountain hare.</div>
Susan Jane Simshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288997964411380551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5419896225642419772.post-86367767162859771442014-01-21T14:05:00.001-08:002014-02-11T03:18:33.798-08:00Breaking Through - Beverley Ferguson, winner of the first Poetry Space Competition in 2010 considers the transformative role of poetry in her life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKFIoQ0M8T-kpM-nh0QYuNsY6PutyX9eTzXSgWUvRcoDjYz_shBOOWJuoB-xACplV5vWsrQsCplERjv0TGQMk3aBYRvc3TUMkSgCltFzmV9P-m-yjCiAKqBIoOS_VDSCGPEUfe8LmpcLO3/s1600/Beverleyferguson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKFIoQ0M8T-kpM-nh0QYuNsY6PutyX9eTzXSgWUvRcoDjYz_shBOOWJuoB-xACplV5vWsrQsCplERjv0TGQMk3aBYRvc3TUMkSgCltFzmV9P-m-yjCiAKqBIoOS_VDSCGPEUfe8LmpcLO3/s1600/Beverleyferguson.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
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Winning the Poetry Space Limited
Competition 2010 with my poem <b>‘Illness’</b>
has been transformational in many ways.<br />I was inspired to enter the
on-line competition mainly because of the words used to define Poetry Space
Limited:“Poetry Space Limited is a
company that is dedicated to promote and nurture creative expression without
fear, judgment or prejudice.”<br /><br />Although I had been writing
poetry most of my life I had only recently discovered that you actually worked
on poems – that you could workshop poems with other poets. This was a
revelation to me. It was the start of broadening my concept of what poetry is
and how words and images are communicated to other people. At that time I was
writing short poems exploring capturing my feelings with only one or a few
images. I was inspired by the poet Elaine Feinstein and had heard her read at
the Toppings bookshop in Bath.</div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRurpW1CQMJBjRfG48o7rY5kujtW4iMv7wTMLFCQ2jnpC8DU72kR6SVbHlNzBRwqV8zxGOzYCjEnQiCiJjXPDi8vWUxLHkcJl1XsyWI9Pnv5Pnu1gTOG9AK8Rz1dZZqCUsMfCsBedZJSBD/s1600/Beverley.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRurpW1CQMJBjRfG48o7rY5kujtW4iMv7wTMLFCQ2jnpC8DU72kR6SVbHlNzBRwqV8zxGOzYCjEnQiCiJjXPDi8vWUxLHkcJl1XsyWI9Pnv5Pnu1gTOG9AK8Rz1dZZqCUsMfCsBedZJSBD/s1600/Beverley.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Artwork by Beverley Ferguson</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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My poem ‘<b>Illness</b>’ is a poem I wrote in an attempt to capture some of the
feelings I experienced on my return home from a long stay in hospital. Although
my return was from a psychiatric hospital I knew that my feelings of loneliness,
confusion of identity and disorientation could apply to anyone’s experience on
returning home from hospital. <o:p></o:p></div>
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What meant the most to me on
winning the competition was reading the feedback from the judge Philip Lyons.
Here was somebody I had never met yet I had communicated an important
experience, my words had resonated with him. It was an extraordinary feeling. For
the first time for many years I had a voice - and it had been heard.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The experience of connecting
with other people through the power of words has encouraged me to keep writing
poetry. Although I write journals and have a creative writing practice, poetry
continues to be my main expression. My words naturally flow into poetic forms. <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=5419896225642419772" name="_GoBack"></a><o:p></o:p></div>
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I have been invited to
co-facilitate a writing group in Bath with Creativity Works this year. Other
people’s words and expressions continue to inspire and fascinate me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Winning this competition
hasn’t just encouraged me to continue writing. Like the pebble dropped into a
pond its effects continue to ripple outwards.<span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Beverley's powerful sonnet sequence <i>Breaking Through </i>is available from the <a href="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/2014/01/breaking-through/">Poetry Space online Shop</a> at just £2 with 50% of the proceeds going to Bath Mind. This tirtle has already raised over £200 for Bath Mind.</span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIsmJ5mh6OZNEQYVOZxdqmpyorMX3-OHe5InnqAb_9pNSlaD8Gf8-jUbXmmgfZkGOu5MKjCUnOU0LRxIM4i8n3N7V78nIOOpMt8N2cHORFH-_TQqRXC6QPIow8GCSu8GKAHLPLhhsJgaCf/s1600/Breaking+Through+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIsmJ5mh6OZNEQYVOZxdqmpyorMX3-OHe5InnqAb_9pNSlaD8Gf8-jUbXmmgfZkGOu5MKjCUnOU0LRxIM4i8n3N7V78nIOOpMt8N2cHORFH-_TQqRXC6QPIow8GCSu8GKAHLPLhhsJgaCf/s1600/Breaking+Through+cover.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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Through the powerful symbol of ice Beverley Ferguson’s
sonnet sequence leads the reader on a journey from the moment life became
frozen when “Land shuddered and stopped” to imperceptible sparks of awakenings
as<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=5419896225642419772" name="_GoBack"></a> “lost words of ancestors release songs of light.” The
poet reaches back into the past to break through into the present, creating a
new song, a new story – her own. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Beverley Ferguson’s finely written sonnet sequence leads the
reader as well as the narrator into fresh hope for the future. </div>
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<br /></div>
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</div>
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<i>Dr. Geraldine Green,
14.2.2013<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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A longer pamphlet collection <i>Flowers in the Blood </i>will be published by Poetry Space later this year. It includes Beverley's award winning poem <i><a href="http://poetryspacecompetition.blogspot.co.uk/p/poetry-space-competition-2010.html">Illness </a> </i>and many other moving poems.</div>
Susan Jane Simshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288997964411380551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5419896225642419772.post-4012849769170777022013-12-26T12:22:00.000-08:002013-12-26T12:30:20.963-08:00Christmas Poems - Day Three - Boxing Day<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOlQ6qi44Z7qnfxvnLkr_q-fk2M1feMgQpEnuGJA1QbGBEeUZ97jTZGQFhJwnMmjICJ3tSUH19QFe2ufpL-oA0wTxlimTHFNNjHUZrjQXiKe6VqrIcgzI-7Co3dP7CYRsK-RaCD1hZgdmh/s1600/Anna+Maria+Mickiewicz.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOlQ6qi44Z7qnfxvnLkr_q-fk2M1feMgQpEnuGJA1QbGBEeUZ97jTZGQFhJwnMmjICJ3tSUH19QFe2ufpL-oA0wTxlimTHFNNjHUZrjQXiKe6VqrIcgzI-7Co3dP7CYRsK-RaCD1hZgdmh/s320/Anna+Maria+Mickiewicz.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From Anna Maria Mickiewicz<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Bells Ringing</span></b><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Listen, </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Creaking gently</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Low breathing</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Climbing spiral stairs</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Pulling ropes</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Cries peeling</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Clangs and dings.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Pay attention,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Catching breath,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">In the distance</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Heavy thudding</span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=5419896225642419772" name="_GoBack"></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Low voices</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hooves bashing</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Whoosh and glee,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">By the fireplace</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Crunching, slurping</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Laughter and rustling </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Merry Christmas everyone.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">(By Johanna Boal 6/12/13)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNi1BdcI0Qg5It02SiXFSWO3-f9jwZ0UX5tDn_hpHN5bwqwaw4tBCXBJmLdD4t7MqUIgbvoyOhByKvk1mD7AeE8-eTEUUusNduqs9OMzdLAqY2aYutkGXZHRwxeR_6fcs4eC23A2amNFxQ/s1600/Meal.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNi1BdcI0Qg5It02SiXFSWO3-f9jwZ0UX5tDn_hpHN5bwqwaw4tBCXBJmLdD4t7MqUIgbvoyOhByKvk1mD7AeE8-eTEUUusNduqs9OMzdLAqY2aYutkGXZHRwxeR_6fcs4eC23A2amNFxQ/s320/Meal.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Susan Jane Sims</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span>Homecoming </b> </div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<br />
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<br /></div>
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December dressed</div>
<u1:p></u1:p>
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at the Blue Angel Café</div>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<br />
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under scarves and jumpers</div>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<br />
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the long slow heartbeat</div>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<br />
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of winter</div>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<br />
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ghost-lips linger<u1:p></u1:p> </div>
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on cappuccino cups</div>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<br />
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as gloved-fingers</div>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<br />
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come back to life</div>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<br />
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inside</div>
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warmth, fairy lights, laughter<u1:p></u1:p> </div>
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outside</div>
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glitter-frost, a blue moon<u1:p></u1:p> </div>
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and the promise of you.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Eileen Carney Hulme<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<u1:p></u1:p>Susan Jane Simshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288997964411380551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5419896225642419772.post-12162339075415030132013-12-25T01:01:00.000-08:002013-12-26T12:24:02.552-08:00Christmas Poems - Christmas Day - Day Two<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Happy Christmas to everyone.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Copyright for all material on this page remains with the creators.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">MARY<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I’m not the only poor travelling woman<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">to birth her baby among animals<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">in a strange town.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I’m not the only mother to watch her son<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">confound his elders,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">overstep the boundaries,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">store up trouble for himself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I’m not the only poor widow to watch her son<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">walk away with his friends<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">not knowing where his path would lead him,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">trusting that he would return, one day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I’m not the only mother to watch the son she loved
above all things<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">dying before her, untimely.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">In those precious moments holding my baby<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">everything was possible,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">nothing was written,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">the whole earth was filled with joy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I hold that peace in my heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Jo Waterworth</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Jo's moving collection My Father Speaks in Poetry too can be purchased from The PS online shop at www.poetryspace.co.uk</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You’re</span></b><span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Graceful,
standing like a ballerina<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Torso
captivating<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Arms
wide, reach out skilfully<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Legs
well-made<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Foot
arched and toes hard-pressed<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Purposefully
on the ground<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The
crown, a star, astounding drama<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Trinkets
and tinsel<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A
Christmas tree.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Johanna Boal 12/12/12<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As it is my late Mum's birthday this feels appropriate as I will never stop being Irene's Daughter:</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
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</div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Being Irene’s daughter<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">My
memory holds <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">the days<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">of being
Irene’s daughter<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">the cosy
winter coming home from school days<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">when I
lit the fire while <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">mum
cooked crispy breast of lamb<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">to eat
with my fingers <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">the
after the orthodontist treat days<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">when we
came home <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">with
half-coated <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">chocolate
biscuits from Lewises<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">the
brave radiotherapy sickness days<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">when I
did the ironing<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">and mum,
strong spirited as always<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">supervised
my creases<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">the
wedding preparation days<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">choosing
my dress <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">and hers
on a glorious<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">rain-
drenched Saturday <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">and best
of all<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">the exciting
new mother days<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">when mum
passed on<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">her
wisdom and delighted<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">in
cuddling each new born child<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Susan Jane Sims<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
Susan Jane Simshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288997964411380551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5419896225642419772.post-6773062025115626532013-12-23T23:25:00.002-08:002013-12-23T23:25:47.551-08:00Christmas Poems - Day One - Christmas Eve<h3>
<span style="font-family: 'DK Crayon Crumble'; font-size: 22pt; line-height: 115%;">Yes it's time for the Christmas Blog again from Poetry Space - Happy Christmas!</span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> (Copyright - the poets)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
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<b>A Christmas Fantasy </b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span> </div>
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<br /></div>
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Mall-skating through flurries of
cut-out penguins, Santas, reindeers, </div>
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<br /></div>
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we glide on past Merry–Xmas
windows, air-conditioned polar bears,</div>
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<br /></div>
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glitter-frosted lights, frozen
cash-machines, undressed models</div>
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<br /></div>
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flogging fashion and ski-rail
our way out of <span lang="EN">Singapura’s </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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tinsel town to that sacred place
where Fantasy Isle’s </div>
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<br /></div>
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lioness and stranded fish first
met and then embraced.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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Parasolled, I scan the bay’s
busy contour lines – a trail </div>
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<br /></div>
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of morning sand-ants, surf
beaching white, the bobbing wall </div>
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<br /></div>
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of shark-barrier buoys, fuzzy
two-way shipping lanes </div>
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<br /></div>
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and an ever-so slightly bowed
equator, horizontally sunning </div>
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<br /></div>
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itself in zero degrees of
latitude – and imagine I’m space-hubbling, </div>
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<br /></div>
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watching Watatsumi the mighty
sea-dragon confine, restrain, </div>
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<br /></div>
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detain our unfathomable mass of
curved ocean;</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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I imagine Gaia-free gravity
washing the heavens </div>
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<br /></div>
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in deep-sea blue; I imagine crossing
the saline skyline again </div>
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<br /></div>
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and again; I imagine passing
uncharted archipelagos,</div>
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<br /></div>
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becoming the discoverer of
Christmas-Island barbecues </div>
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<br /></div>
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and, ready to celebrate with
jingle bells, I surf-ride</div>
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<br /></div>
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in upon an unimaginably joyful,
Aussie Yuletide.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt;">
Mike Lee</div>
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And here is Mike looking very relaxed in Singapore's Raffles hotel:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPHI33OHCtLdWN_6X2RhNt6ibtt33CtDPuIGCF9rpI5AQoPPWTM5agczfA9hawB1DqkGbkzl1Oxrf_f6JOHSySQpPgCpEG_D8wl0SLmg4qa18deaRJJB3Ht6N53dC8GHynhpIxdM1uc4t3/s1600/Mike+Lee+in+Singapore.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPHI33OHCtLdWN_6X2RhNt6ibtt33CtDPuIGCF9rpI5AQoPPWTM5agczfA9hawB1DqkGbkzl1Oxrf_f6JOHSySQpPgCpEG_D8wl0SLmg4qa18deaRJJB3Ht6N53dC8GHynhpIxdM1uc4t3/s320/Mike+Lee+in+Singapore.JPG" width="263" /></a></div>
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Mike is the very latest poet to have a short collection <i>(Time-webs) </i>published by Poetry Space. Mike will be reading from his collection in a series of local house readings for friends and colleagues. He is also lined up as guest poet at Bristol's Can Opener even at Foyles Bookshop in Bristol on Friday April 4th 2014.</div>
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<u><span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 22.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></u></div>
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<u><span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 22.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The
Emerald Mistress<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Excitement
swiftly builds with the presence of the large green lady<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The strongest
member of the party heaves her from the car<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Groping
her curves through the entrance<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Now
more miniscule than ever<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Violence
unfolds<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">~</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">~<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The provider
of festive joy and ‘cosiness’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Who
must be crowned<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Bodily
fluids secrete<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Her
jagged pines sear through your clothing<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sweat
leaks from your temples<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Slight
panic seeps in<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Where
the fuck will she live?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The
lounge? The hall?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Somewhere
she’ll make the least bloody mess.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">~</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">~<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The children’s
eyes widen. Euphoria<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Saliva
trickles from their lips<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Soaking
through their woollen jumpers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Dreaming
of the mysterious delights that very soon<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">May
be placed beneath her skirt<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">~</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">~<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Xmas
carols <a href="" name="_GoBack"></a>plonking along in the background<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Dusty
tinsel tickles your ankles<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sticking
to your feet<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Mince
pies toasting in the oven<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Alongside
trays upon trays of sliced orange, sizzling on the grill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A
sweet, familiar scent<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">~</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">~<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Deal
with the dinner<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Leave
the wife to decorate her green limbs<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The
kids dress her in gold and silver<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Tarting
her up<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Just
the way you like them<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">~</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">~<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Her
pines reek of smoke<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A
sour musk from the van driver<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Stinking
of other men<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">What
a cheek<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Coming
here in your house smelling like that<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Cheap
slut<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">~</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">~<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">With
your dirty seconds<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Didn’t
care where she came from<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As
long as you had her<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">~</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">~<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The
wife sprays her with a ‘pine tree’ air freshener<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Denial<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Now
gleaming with sparkles and lights from head to toe<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Crowned
with a large white angel<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She
smirks<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">At your
family<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Winking
at you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Only
you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Her
innocence is long gone<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">~</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">~<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The
kids take your hand and drag you closer<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">To
admire her body<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">~</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">~<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You
can’t help liking her now, can you?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">All
dressed up and fancy<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Eyes
fixed on her deep green skin<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Reminisce
now<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Dig through
those buried childhood memories once again<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Years
go by and still you cling on to this one sick recollection<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">~</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">~<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Tiny
and innocent you sat by her trunk<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">About
five or six years young<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Peering
up her skirt<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Blinded
by the flashing fairy lights but loving it all the same<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Fallen
pines pricked your toes as you sat cross-legged on the cold wooden floor<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You
squeezed. Two hands<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Gripping
tightly around the incisions<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Pushing<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Pressure
mounting<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Toes
swelling with heat<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Burst<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A
cold red release soothed your mind<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As you
licked it up with your fragile tongue<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">~</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">~<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The
delicious pain<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Only
to be relived each year<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Every
December<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Privately<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -35.45pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 35.45pt;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Once the wife and kids are tucked up in their perfect
little beds<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -35.45pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 35.45pt;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And have fallen fast asleep</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -35.45pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 35.45pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">~<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -35.45pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 35.45pt;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -35.45pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 35.45pt;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And your emerald
mistress<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -35.45pt; text-indent: 35.45pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -35.45pt; text-indent: 35.45pt;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Shay Crinkle December 2013<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -35.45pt; text-indent: 35.45pt;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7VaGLQE0axNy3ulkKEHXEU4aflXwgaxc6108NJvRqjkYGobDjsaz_tLEuDWXW-AeNC1vQyYvz56tsvsjwkzhmcRl6tNe6oyaRzmyeyyBTqNqVOyEC41XvvKXB8fTcOTk9yQoNVEE3-kJI/s1600/Christmas+Tree.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7VaGLQE0axNy3ulkKEHXEU4aflXwgaxc6108NJvRqjkYGobDjsaz_tLEuDWXW-AeNC1vQyYvz56tsvsjwkzhmcRl6tNe6oyaRzmyeyyBTqNqVOyEC41XvvKXB8fTcOTk9yQoNVEE3-kJI/s1600/Christmas+Tree.JPG" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -35.45pt; text-indent: 35.45pt;">
<span style="font-family: "DK Crayon Crumble"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -35.45pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 35.45pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -35.45pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 35.45pt;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 35.45pt;"><b>Advent</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 35.45pt;">Carols chime</span></div>
</span>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 35.45pt;">streets sprout festive trees</span></div>
</span>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 35.45pt;">lights string over shops</span></div>
</span>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 35.45pt;">crowds gather</span></div>
</span>
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 35.45pt;">shops bustle</span></div>
</span>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 35.45pt;">it’s coming up to Christmas.</span></div>
</span>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 35.45pt;">Where’s the child</span></div>
</span>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 35.45pt;">not at home</span></div>
</span>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 35.45pt;">he’s in the camp</span></div>
</span>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 35.45pt;">waiting peace</span></div>
</span>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 35.45pt;">no kings will come</span></div>
</span>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 35.45pt;">or angels sing</span></div>
</span>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 35.45pt;">they wait for you.</span></div>
</span>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 35.45pt;"><b>Carolyn O’Connell</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 35.45pt;"><br /></span></div>
</span><span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 35.45pt;">December 2013</span></div>
</span>
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<b><br /></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -35.45pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 35.45pt;">
<b>Keep them coming - more tomorrow</b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b>For more from Poetry Space visit www.poetryspace.co.uk</b></div>
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Susan Jane Simshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288997964411380551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5419896225642419772.post-13501149794855760942013-11-20T10:14:00.001-08:002013-11-20T10:14:41.917-08:00Unwrapping Ideas: Johanna Boal on the excitement of writing<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaWF56xoWzhX6Mlx_VwtxAySWyi6MTTjPrhbHzMk8xuEvusMw5v3kQqE7Kq1LqB4jUnX4ezIHaJ9OewjkWhUrxskXsb-qjrH7_fXqwultjThINmPguGUBKeZoc31dMHeYTNCEz7AJNicnt/s1600/Johanna+Boal+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaWF56xoWzhX6Mlx_VwtxAySWyi6MTTjPrhbHzMk8xuEvusMw5v3kQqE7Kq1LqB4jUnX4ezIHaJ9OewjkWhUrxskXsb-qjrH7_fXqwultjThINmPguGUBKeZoc31dMHeYTNCEz7AJNicnt/s200/Johanna+Boal+2.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></div>
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There is so much I can
say about writing. One aspect is that moment of unwrapping something, that has
been given to me and the excitement I feel. <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I write to show my mood,
and my inspirations comes from all parts of life, I could be in the bank paying
a bill, walking to my local tennis club or simply rubbing my fingers in-between
the lavender flowers growing in our garden.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">
</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I also get ideas from
other writers/poets, in workshops and books. In fact one book on how to write
poetry by Matthew Sweeney set exercises and one exercise I did, called- ‘Fish
Bones Dreaming’ I fell in love with. It is funny, charming and clever. Using
his idea on the structure throughout the poem, with a chorus, I called mine-
‘Dinosaur Bones Dreaming’, actually I did two and I frequently go back to read
them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I find art galleries
and museums useful for prompting ideas, I don’t necessarily feel I have to know
the artist, the object could be enough. But when you get somebody like-
Leonardo da Vinci and his pencil drawings coming to the Ferens Art Gallery in
Hull. I wrote down everything what was going on in his drawings and afterwards
went away with my writing pad full. I then put all that information on the
computer and I thought what can I do with this? There was lots I could do, I could have taken
the Oak Leaf he drew and wrote about oak trees around the country but I didn’t,
I decided to write about the limits of his drawing materials, considering his
time was the late 1400’s and early 1500c. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSM4nSMlCiUq7V5FluakEmlUmZGoIeb1nNkpoipq-OpcYYXiWNaalxH6jBSQfGPtAgaOuTxFlwPT_sOTaJbSFUlbNSaNze7uKoUyFnUR89pxkQnHS5pLClpVRXAA05SY9JnGjrtnpt-WJp/s1600/johannaboal1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSM4nSMlCiUq7V5FluakEmlUmZGoIeb1nNkpoipq-OpcYYXiWNaalxH6jBSQfGPtAgaOuTxFlwPT_sOTaJbSFUlbNSaNze7uKoUyFnUR89pxkQnHS5pLClpVRXAA05SY9JnGjrtnpt-WJp/s320/johannaboal1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The language of the poem
gives it structure and it is just as important whether you have written two
lines or forty lines as it gives shape and style. That is where grammar and punctuation
play a big role in writing. Reading out loud is just as important as reading it
on paper.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Up to now I make this all sound simple, ideas
can come easily but not technique or vice a versa. Writing poetry is just as
important as Leonardo tried getting his chalk correct and using enough light
and shade. And the good thing about writing is I can of course at any time
write about oak trees around the country. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I have been writing for
some years now, I’ve had some poetry published in anthologies, read over radio,
I have read at the Beverley Folk Festival, at HMP’s and online. I have just
recently just been shortlisted for the Bridport Prize Competition. <a href="" name="_GoBack"></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Susan Jane Simshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288997964411380551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5419896225642419772.post-68225612772524664722013-10-29T15:37:00.002-07:002013-10-29T15:37:56.027-07:00"I will be waiting quietly for your poems to speak to me": Alison Brackenbury's thoughts on judging Poetry Space Competition 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEintEjl8o6OPbXUGxw68IWwa8MlxWwi71w8isApyGPQz0_jiWvCNr9rV1j5pZNTl8LVR58ydXxMkimTvOVwhczzZMrI_Yv0b0GbCDOVcnrgelI24K97-Xksp8tln-wPf6TQS8yc52J7TDw1/s1600/Alison+Brackenbury.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEintEjl8o6OPbXUGxw68IWwa8MlxWwi71w8isApyGPQz0_jiWvCNr9rV1j5pZNTl8LVR58ydXxMkimTvOVwhczzZMrI_Yv0b0GbCDOVcnrgelI24K97-Xksp8tln-wPf6TQS8yc52J7TDw1/s1600/Alison+Brackenbury.JPG" /></a></div>
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I will come to your
poems with an open mind. I would like to put the last three words in capitals!
But capitals shout, and I will in fact be waiting quietly for your poems to
speak to me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Do not think that you
must seek out poems on particular subjects! I grew up in the English
countryside, and I often write about it. Yet some of my favourite poems are set
in great cities, or in countries I have never visited. I enjoy poems about animals. But I also
relish poems about the stories and speech of humans, the strangest of animals. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Many of us write poems
about the great, sometimes terrible moments of our lives, the loves which have
possessed us, the deaths we have endured.
It is humbling to read such poems.
They can remain deeply moving even when they emerge from a competition’s
piled papers. But poems can come from the smallest happenings (a walk down a street,
a bee bumbling into a window). Such poems can revive, amuse, enrich. Send them,
too! <o:p></o:p></div>
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Please do not think,
either, that your entries should be in a particular poetic form. I am very
interested in traditional forms. My poems often rhyme. But some of the poems I
return to again and again are in free verse.
What matters to me, simply, is that a poem should work on its own terms.
It must have its own imaginative energy. I have seen competition poems which
are technically flawless, yet as devoid of life as a polished, empty shell.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Do not reject possible
entries simply because they are short. It is often said that short poems are
not favoured by competition judges. I fear this may sometimes be true. But a
very short poem was amongst the major prizewinners when I was on the judging
panel for the National Poetry Competition!
So short poems, too, are welcome.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I would give two
pieces of advice to all poets entering poetry competitions. These are not
simply my opinion, but are based on the considered views of other judges, and
competition winners.<o:p></o:p></div>
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First: if you want to write
well, read widely. All the competition
judges I have spoken to say that they have read too many poems which fail
because their writer has clearly read very little poetry. Read the great poetry of the past. Read poems
from other countries and cultures. (This is much easier now we have the
Internet. Have you discovered the excellent <st1:place w:st="on">US</st1:place> poems which can be found each
day on Poetry Daily, <a href="http://www.poems.com/">www.poems.com</a>? I try
never to miss it. ) Read work by living
British poets, too. You may not like all of it. You may wish to write quite
differently. But if you try to shut
yourself off entirely from the present, you risk simply becoming a pale
imitation of the past.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It is also – I would
like to use capitals again! – the duty of British poets today to buy as much
work by living poets as they can afford. Even buying one book or pamphlet a
year helps. Poetry publishers, large and
small, have begun to suffer badly from the recession. Every publisher I have met recently has told
me the same story, and it is a chilling one.
Poetry sales overall are down by 20%: ‘worse than the darkest days of
the 1980s’, said one. If publishers disappear, who will publish your poems? Buy
books, please!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Secondly: enter one
more poem than you intended. Put in the wild card, the odd one which you think
no one will like. I have spoken to many poets who have won major competitions.
They all admit that they cannot predict judges’ taste. The winning poem is the one which they
thought had no chance, the one which they thrust into the envelope at the last
minute. Send that extra poem! It will
help the deserving small press which runs this competition. It will help your
chances too.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I look forward to
reading your poems – with an open mind.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Alison Brackenbury, October 2013</span></div>
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Alison's website is at w<a href="http://ww.alisonbrackenbury.co.uk/">ww.alisonbrackenbury.co.uk</a></div>
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Poetry Space Competition 2014 will open for entries on November 1st - further details at <a href="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/poetry-space-competition/">http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/poetry-space-competition/</a></div>
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<o:p></o:p>Susan Jane Simshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288997964411380551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5419896225642419772.post-34284051119690506982013-09-11T05:07:00.000-07:002013-09-11T05:31:25.182-07:00Poetry Space Summer HighlightsPoetry Space has had a great Summer!<br />
<br />
June marked the publication of Jo Waterworth's book <i>My Father Speaks in Poetry Too </i>and this has moved everyone who has read it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb5tW35M29Tu8s4P7TtoMgKuTwOgmm82nya0-mYDcmsZ84lxEJOPo4pIDirhLlu1JRuvfuRYreCPfEv8eh5TmPhbaHLi2W31txTAXt9gq9RWuvekp2bLSjfBsNglwGIX5fEHDhZeBvq9Tk/s1600/Jo+cover.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb5tW35M29Tu8s4P7TtoMgKuTwOgmm82nya0-mYDcmsZ84lxEJOPo4pIDirhLlu1JRuvfuRYreCPfEv8eh5TmPhbaHLi2W31txTAXt9gq9RWuvekp2bLSjfBsNglwGIX5fEHDhZeBvq9Tk/s1600/Jo+cover.JPG" /></a><i style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoGQg782hWRl_sIe6CsdL-haeaODz_OiF8G-yFyfLuJs75HhX8uajr75VdHbJOKRVIeXZCFC0bAbIxzL6mhxxf0eHQJglOoYi2zY0WPk0zQUHzwVdED5MxsPSCmHHOQvsrxfWoQHVGj2B6/s1600/Jo+launch1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoGQg782hWRl_sIe6CsdL-haeaODz_OiF8G-yFyfLuJs75HhX8uajr75VdHbJOKRVIeXZCFC0bAbIxzL6mhxxf0eHQJglOoYi2zY0WPk0zQUHzwVdED5MxsPSCmHHOQvsrxfWoQHVGj2B6/s1600/Jo+launch1.jpg" /></a></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><i>"I was in tears by the end – so simple and
unpretentious and beautiful."</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Victoria Field, Writer and Poetry Therapist<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<i>"I was very taken with not only Jo's moving poems but also
with the feel of the book's textured pages - as I ran my fingers across each
page. And the illustrations are stunning." </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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Di Coffey</div>
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<br />
The lovely illustrations by Willow Roe have also made this very special:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8y62ZJ8JP2Hh109NlGZW6vJZWNl-nDtqWvj3ZfLt90A4rc0fAwSduKCl3ZrpjJNFxqNo2AbT8ZWeU1b1xZ9seKDNI45x1jfgmCOxkENvgRkbfnsbYceRUEoYPNlqt0sVVVPjNf-YSv3gI/s1600/Remembering+birds+names.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8y62ZJ8JP2Hh109NlGZW6vJZWNl-nDtqWvj3ZfLt90A4rc0fAwSduKCl3ZrpjJNFxqNo2AbT8ZWeU1b1xZ9seKDNI45x1jfgmCOxkENvgRkbfnsbYceRUEoYPNlqt0sVVVPjNf-YSv3gI/s200/Remembering+birds+names.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1bb8gbOZGxtbiW3NGhO0M9xcwXRdXAIv_QVXA8rg_fdpaGGnnwfxtu6tYxKUhdpMtwoXXDuXZ0uv1vthObJishSzuoyMGmEzNyaSaV4ERn5v9UHV7Mx8RA29y2iBlG7frE0SsPAbSan6b/s1600/is+that+a+siskin+or+a+green+finch.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1bb8gbOZGxtbiW3NGhO0M9xcwXRdXAIv_QVXA8rg_fdpaGGnnwfxtu6tYxKUhdpMtwoXXDuXZ0uv1vthObJishSzuoyMGmEzNyaSaV4ERn5v9UHV7Mx8RA29y2iBlG7frE0SsPAbSan6b/s200/is+that+a+siskin+or+a+green+finch.JPG" width="170" /></a></div>
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In July we launched <i>Through a Child's Eyes </i>at The Penzance Festival:<br />
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Our thanks go to Edge of the World Bookshop for hosting this event for us. We had readings from Anna Maria Mickiewicz, Caroline Carver, Les Merton, Moira Andrew, Angela Croft, Sheila Bracewell And Di Coffey.</div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"It is a beautiful and moving
Anthology with wonderful, wonderful poems. I am so pleased to have two of my
poems included in it."</span><o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Maureen Weldon,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><i>"lovely production and smashing poems"</i> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><i>"Highly reconmmended"</i></span></div>
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<br />Susan Jane Simshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288997964411380551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5419896225642419772.post-64480217562738227862013-05-01T05:02:00.001-07:002013-05-01T05:02:44.139-07:00Responding to a Poetry Challenge - Sue SimsApril was Poetry Month and a fellow poet suggested having a go at writing a poem a day for the whole of the month. I'd like to share one of these poems and its genesis with you.<br />
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When I am in need of inspiration I often find it helps to start with a random list of words. I find these in all sorts of ways, from newspaper articles, flicking through books etc. This time I flicked through a copy of a poetry title I have just acquired <i>Dark Film</i> by Paul Farley, itself a brilliant read. From this I gathered the following words:<br />
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downpour<br />
ears<br />
allotments<br />
chimneys<br />
boil<br />
bitter<br />
soak<br />
floorboards<br />
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I started by doing some notes:<br />
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Caught in a downpour, my ears filling with water, the allotments flooded, the chimneys shooting flames, I'm soaked, I'm boiling, I'm bitter. The floorboards creak as I cry.<br />
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Then another burst of rambling:<br />
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always a downpour<br />
never an up pour<br />
not possible, not unless time is moving backwards<br />
and actions are being reversed<br />
ears are aching, ears of corn in fields<br />
swallowing smoke. soaked in a downpour<br />
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Pretty much nonsense and then something clicked and I moved on to thinking about taking refuge from the downpour and who I might be with with and what we might find.<br />
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This final poem uses most of the original list of words bar one. When you do this yourself it is important not to be totally rigid. If one or two words refuse to fit in respect that and go with what comes as I did here:<br />
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<b>The Downpour</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>During the downpour,</b><b>we take refuge</b><br />
<b>in your grandpa's allotment shed</b><br />
<b>and rummage for what we can find:</b><br />
<b>a jar of boiled sweets, a few</b><br />
<b>squares of bitter chocolate, </b><br />
<b>a miniature bottle of rum.</b><br />
<b>We are thirteen. We consume it all</b><br />
<b>sitting on the warm floorboards. You say:</b><br />
<b>"We'll never have this day again"</b><br />
<b>and lean in for an awkward kiss."</b><br />
<b>I hear myself saying </b><br />
<b>"You've got </b><b>beautiful ears". Outside</b><br />
<b>the factory chimney belches smoke.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Copyright Susan Jane Sims </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
When I sat down to write I had no idea what I would write, however the list of words, Paul Farley's lovely urban poems and my own memories led to the above poem which I am pleased with. The discipline of having to use particular words I think give it a quirky feel, particularly the beautiful ears.<br />
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If you have been inspired then do consider sending poems in to Poetry Space Competition 2013.<br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Sue</span></i><br />
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<br />Susan Jane Simshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288997964411380551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5419896225642419772.post-13627571428570413912013-02-13T10:13:00.000-08:002013-02-16T07:42:36.882-08:00Creating Found Poems - Carol Ross<br />
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Creating found poetry means taking words, phrases and lines from other
sources and using them to create poems. I’d like to tell you about two types of
‘found poem’ I have been introduced and enjoyed.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>1. Finding poems
in published prose<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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I first heard about this type of found poetry from <a href="http://kirstyes.co.uk/writing/poetry/">Kirsty Stanley</a>, who is an
occupational therapist and a writer. On her blog, Kirsty includes found poems
she crafted by photocopying a page of a book or magazine and creating a poem by
artistically highlighting selected words and phrases on the page. This is a fun
technique that can create something quite unexpected – for example a poem on a
topic that is different both from your usual poetry and from the source text.<o:p></o:p></div>
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For the poem I have included below (Stalled), I didn’t use quite the
method Kirsty describes on her blog – she creates a poem directly on the
photocopied page, whereas in my example I typed the words up and inserted line
breaks where I wanted them. However, like Kirsty, I didn’t add or change any
words or change their order.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The method I used was: (i) photocopy a page (two pages in this case)
from a book; (ii) select and highlight words, phrases and sentences to include;
(iii) type them up; (iv) insert line breaks; (v) fine tune, e.g., by adding or
removing words (ensuring that any words added are taken from the text and in
the original order). <o:p></o:p></div>
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I have scanned and highlighted the double-page spread from a (very good)
novella, A <i>Penny Spitfire</i> by <a href="http://bhdandme.wordpress.com/tag/brindley-hallam-dennis/">Brindley
Hallam Dennis</a>, published by <a href="http://www.pewter-rose-press.com/">Pewter
Rose Press</a>, that I used to create the poem ‘Stalled’ (see below). I used
pages 82-83 (reproduced with permission). <o:p></o:p></div>
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If this type of found poem is new to you, my tip would be choose a page
with plenty of words and little or no dialogue. This is a technique to play
with – just have a go and see what you find.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Stalled </b>(‘found’ in <i>A Penny Spitfire</i> by Brindley Hallam
Dennis)<b><o:p></o:p></b></div>
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His workshop<o:p></o:p></div>
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stood untouched,<o:p></o:p></div>
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encrusted with dirt<o:p></o:p></div>
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and cobwebs.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Spiders hunted in<o:p></o:p></div>
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threads of silk.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He’d changed.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Raw edges where his<o:p></o:p></div>
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life had torn,<o:p></o:p></div>
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had hardened.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Pain turned<o:p></o:p></div>
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to numbness.<o:p></o:p></div>
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She too changed,<o:p></o:p></div>
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The simplest things<o:p></o:p></div>
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divided them.<o:p></o:p></div>
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They began to live<o:p></o:p></div>
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as strangers.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He tried to remember<o:p></o:p></div>
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what they had before<o:p></o:p></div>
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but it seemed far away.<o:p></o:p></div>
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They had lost something,<o:p></o:p></div>
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did not mesh anymore.<o:p></o:p></div>
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They could not talk<o:p></o:p></div>
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about the past.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Yet he sensed<o:p></o:p></div>
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through words they could<o:p></o:p></div>
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come back together.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But how did you do that?<o:p></o:p></div>
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How tell the things<o:p></o:p></div>
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he wanted to tell?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Even thinking about them<o:p></o:p></div>
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made him shake inside.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>2. Poems ‘found’
in conversations with others<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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On a Writing in Healthcare course at <a href="http://www.tynewydd.org/">Ty
Newydd</a> I learned about another kind of found poem from poet, tutor and
co-founder of Lapidus, <a href="http://www.lapidus.org.uk/SpreadtheWord/GrahamHartill.php">Graham Hartill</a>.
Graham told our group about found poems he has created from notes he made of
conversations with inmates when working as a poet in a prison. This technique
can be used or adapted to give someone who doesn’t consider themselves to be
very creative, or who does not or cannot write much, the experience of writing
a poem. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Here I describe using the technique to create a found poem about a<b> </b>child’s experience of World War II. <o:p></o:p></div>
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My mother was 10 when WWII began. To create a found poem based on her
memories I first interviewed her about the war. During the interview I made
rapid notes and also recorded the conversation. Later I typed up the main ideas
from her responses, sometimes but not always using her words. I played with the
order of the ideas until I felt I had them grouped and in a logical order. Then
I played with the lines themselves, editing and refining to turn whole sentences
into the lines of a poem that I hope has rhythm and flow. Finally I checked
back with Mum to see whether she was happy with my poem ‘Make do and mend’ (see
below).<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Make do and mend<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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I was 10 when war started.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We kids didn’t hear much about the fighting. Just<o:p></o:p></div>
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what was on Pathé news at the pictures.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The man had a funny voice.<o:p></o:p></div>
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None of my family joined up.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Young men had a choice: go down the pit or go to war.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My Dad was a miner, and my brothers,<o:p></o:p></div>
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those that were old enough.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I remember seeing young men on the buses though,<o:p></o:p></div>
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off to start their training.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There was an army camp near us.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The soldiers unwound electric cable<o:p></o:p></div>
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right through the village. To untangle it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then they wound it up again.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Our Mary tripped over it, broke her leg.<o:p></o:p></div>
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She got fifty pounds.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Clothes were on ration.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Mostly it was make do and mend.<o:p></o:p></div>
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A lot of folk knitted. Pulled out old things<o:p></o:p></div>
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to knit new. Cut down women’s dresses<o:p></o:p></div>
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to make clothes for kids.<o:p></o:p></div>
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You had to queue to get stuff.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me and Lil walked four miles to queue for a pork pie.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Dad grew vegetables. And mushrooms.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Mushrooms were dear then.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He dug a pond in the garden and kept ducks.<o:p></o:p></div>
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God they made a mess.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He raised cockerels for Christmas.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And in our stocking: an apple, an orange<o:p></o:p></div>
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and a few pennies.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We made cakes with powered egg.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Grated carrot in the Christmas pud<o:p></o:p></div>
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made the fruit go further.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Mam could make a meal out of anything,<o:p></o:p></div>
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a ham bone and a few peas.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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You couldn’t get Christmas trees.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me and our Jamie cut the top off a holly tree.<o:p></o:p></div>
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From up the top I could see a Lancaster <o:p></o:p></div>
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belly up in a field. Jamie wanted me to get down<o:p></o:p></div>
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so he could climb up and see. But I wouldn’t.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We crept along the hedges to get a better look,<o:p></o:p></div>
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snuck past the men in uniform,<o:p></o:p></div>
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the army and air force police.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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One night the Germans dropped incendiaries.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Mam made us hide on a mattress under the stairs,<o:p></o:p></div>
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me, Jamie and Lil, while she stood at the door<o:p></o:p></div>
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watching planes trying to bomb the mines.<o:p></o:p></div>
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They missed. And me and Jamie crept<o:p></o:p></div>
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under the kitchen table while Mam wasn’t looking<o:p></o:p></div>
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and pinched some raisins.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Get writing – play, have fun, enjoy!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Writing for Wellbeing</i> edited by Carol Ross is available through the <a href="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/2012/08/words-for-wellbeing-edited-by-carol-ross/">Poetry Space Online Bookshop</a></div>
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<br />
If the above has inspired you then why not send your entry in to <a href="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/2013/01/poetry-space-competition-2013/">Poetry Space Competition 2013 </a><br />
<br />
Poems on any theme are eligible to enter. They must be previously unpublished and up to 40 lines maximum.</div>
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Susan Jane Simshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288997964411380551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5419896225642419772.post-59407024324143065672013-02-04T04:51:00.000-08:002013-02-04T14:23:56.753-08:00On Finding Spaces to Write - Monica Suswin<br />
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<span lang="EN-US">A
myriad of spaces is what immediately comes to mind, ranging from the space
inside my head to the actual space of my surroundings. All of importance to me in different ways
for my writing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: LucidaSans; text-transform: uppercase;">Time
& Space<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Time
and not having enough of it, or any of it, is never an argument I find
convincing. It only takes me ten
minutes to get some initial thoughts down onto paper. Later on I might take another ten minutes to
do a free-write, to string some words together, any words that want to flow
from the end of my fingers. I will then
fit in any amount of ten minute slots to work on one piece; if I can I’ll
double that into twenty minute slots.
Sometimes there is the luxury of three quarters of an hour.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I
gather together a jigsaw of draft material when I work like this. Of course there are days when I might bury
myself in a timeless place for endless scribbling, redrafting or editing. But I find these short spurts of time, given
enough care and focus, will eventually give me a form to my writing which
pleases me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Any
project can be broken down into constituent sections to be worked on piece by
piece until the whole comes into shape.
This is a permission I give myself whatever other demands life makes on
me, and there are always pressing demands.
Mine is a 24/7 attitude to writing.
With this approach to my time, I find the spaces I need to write. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: LucidaSans; text-transform: uppercase;">place
& Space<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_7Y7mIdjtW-rAK9WfkymtCjIH7x6T1KnxG7mQkex7XOY1YsOz8r7MljD-cZ1K8W6ce7uy0q53HxnSo0IcU9qeC3o_9agRpBO8Vk2uqqEqi8oU4f81SPhy-hviRQSLyLgfiaYgABpGxKhU/s1600/cabin.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_7Y7mIdjtW-rAK9WfkymtCjIH7x6T1KnxG7mQkex7XOY1YsOz8r7MljD-cZ1K8W6ce7uy0q53HxnSo0IcU9qeC3o_9agRpBO8Vk2uqqEqi8oU4f81SPhy-hviRQSLyLgfiaYgABpGxKhU/s320/cabin.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-size: medium; line-height: 24px; text-align: start;">This was a satisfying moment: the day I finished Draft Three of my book. A clear surface, all of the files in one basket. Wonderfully satisfying. </i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span lang="EN-US">I
am lucky I have a spacious workroom, and two desks: this one is for my papers;
I have another for the computer and phone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;">This
desk is not for writing proper. I use
it to plan my day’s work. I try to keep
my desk clear, if not at the end of the day, then at the end of a section of my
work. A clear desk helps the clarity of
my mind to focus on the piece of writing to be done. I would be entirely lost if I didn’t have
this generous surface, inviting me to settle down, spread out my papers, and
provide me with a special place and space to focus on the piece I want to
write. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">My
best thoughts, however, often come in the shower so all I need is to perch on
the edge of my bed wrapped in a huge fluffy towel and reach down for my A4 pad
and pencil (always on the carpet by my bed) and scribble them down. There are times I need the whole house to
myself, all the rooms, so I can pace around reading aloud. Then I listen to how a piece sounds to my
ears; a completely different experience from either reading off the screen or
from my print-outs. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="text-transform: uppercase;">Space
Away From Home<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Here’s
a room in Morocco, I worked on the bed - protected from the heat outside with a
pleasant breeze coming in through the door. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifuKVsXkCEaKPkfInDO0S2Y-gqijtJYf2a6Y9YoXWwZoN5ZnAAJN_RQHsa3sx77dmEZcORszCsoyc_A-cojV3jPbSXHIpR_UbHJMaqoEsiQ9RGrULDsVGhGuwb1ChhIMzxeHNRt4xSpUS0/s1600/Monica's+bedroom.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifuKVsXkCEaKPkfInDO0S2Y-gqijtJYf2a6Y9YoXWwZoN5ZnAAJN_RQHsa3sx77dmEZcORszCsoyc_A-cojV3jPbSXHIpR_UbHJMaqoEsiQ9RGrULDsVGhGuwb1ChhIMzxeHNRt4xSpUS0/s320/Monica's+bedroom.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Wherever
I am, I transfer my working methods from home to any room I stay in. Because my work is portable I carry it
inside my head, along with the lap-top, papers and note-books in my brief case.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Cabin 451 on board ship<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">My cabin o</span>n a large working and leisure ship
going north up the Norwegian coast. <span lang="EN-US"> I drafted
many short pieces for my book during the week, as well as read more than 300
pages of Hilary Mantel’s Woolf Hall; the essential point to become immersed in
the world of the Tudors. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9SjuZKqNjhxsWUunC87SCaxQw_2i64ffM_IdPh-_JogKLC66p1bYEmhAxGmp_tJ5XLefW7eJUCbfxq_K1iLKQPP74gIqid69BV0ZJ8z-DAdgu9U8byFk4EE6dOJ_XvvQPZiA1Ib22NLQa/s1600/bed.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9SjuZKqNjhxsWUunC87SCaxQw_2i64ffM_IdPh-_JogKLC66p1bYEmhAxGmp_tJ5XLefW7eJUCbfxq_K1iLKQPP74gIqid69BV0ZJ8z-DAdgu9U8byFk4EE6dOJ_XvvQPZiA1Ib22NLQa/s320/bed.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-US"> </span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US">Cabin on the Hill Providing A Writing Space for others: <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;">I want and am able to provide the kind of space writers need away
from home in my cosy wood cabin at the top of our garden.</span><span style="line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 150%;">It won’t suit everyone because it is without
en-suite facilities.</span><span style="line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 150%;">But writers can be
self-contained and self-sufficient, only coming down to the house for the
bathroom.</span><span style="line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 150%;">Really more like a house
guest.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG3dQ-lQ7H3v7DhMT_0jRvSrtzQwFYSoWiUSGArMayj3Mg4VQduEr2H9Jdz1QXqeysz4QqTtV1EQf0qcECa9eu5olQuNd2jgED1huN50rmsyx6Kyc5v2xrCEWVluliosHWGXZefVLfeROP/s1600/Monica's+desk.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG3dQ-lQ7H3v7DhMT_0jRvSrtzQwFYSoWiUSGArMayj3Mg4VQduEr2H9Jdz1QXqeysz4QqTtV1EQf0qcECa9eu5olQuNd2jgED1huN50rmsyx6Kyc5v2xrCEWVluliosHWGXZefVLfeROP/s320/Monica's+desk.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> <i>A Guest Writing </i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Monica
Suswin is working on a book exploring her own creative process of therapeutic
writing. Using extracts from personal
journals, prose, poems and dramatic dialogues, Monica shows how she has gained
deeper insights into her inner life through her personal writing, and how in
turn this has helped her understanding of relationships with others. Within all her work, she has found an
indomitable spirit of a life-force which lies at the heart of her life and her
writing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Contact Details for Monica Suswin:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><a href="http://www.cabinonthehill.co.uk/">www.cabinonthehill.co.uk</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">monicasuswin@gmail.com</span><span lang="EN-US" style="text-transform: uppercase;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Susan Jane Simshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288997964411380551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5419896225642419772.post-11651657961813321972012-12-25T16:19:00.001-08:002012-12-25T16:19:14.638-08:00<br />
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<b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Poems for Boxing Day:</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">a song to christmas<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">time to don the hats and wrap around the scarves<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">the trees are decorated with the glow of balls and stars<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">the traffic is a bumping up with buses and with cars<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
and it’s time to go shopping once again<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">chorus<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">oh it’s time to go shopping<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">and everyone’s dropping<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">yes it’s time to go shopping<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">once again<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">the trees are decorated with the glow of balls and stars<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">the carolers are knocking doors with sounds of la la la’s<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">the santa in his grotto is laughing (ha ha ha’s)<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
and it’s time to go shopping once again<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">the traffic is a bumping up with buses and with cars<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">the toys wrapped up so quickly (and batteries for all parts?)<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">the drunks are getting drunker in the pubs and in the bars (hic)<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
and it’s time to go shopping once again<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">chorus</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Dave Wood</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></b></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI2IipkO_acA8bnn6YOcFr6uuAU_C0R2D5BhcjXRUSfXX4mXmBVB2fyq19fzcngvKxIQlITDII7hCi1Q5KXfoeWqP4R8UZPjI51cHO3qYkan0YE7Hd3n2VpL4VbO3t7cP60Xn7HjjFRfxJ/s1600/097.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI2IipkO_acA8bnn6YOcFr6uuAU_C0R2D5BhcjXRUSfXX4mXmBVB2fyq19fzcngvKxIQlITDII7hCi1Q5KXfoeWqP4R8UZPjI51cHO3qYkan0YE7Hd3n2VpL4VbO3t7cP60Xn7HjjFRfxJ/s320/097.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chris Sims</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Susan Jane Simshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288997964411380551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5419896225642419772.post-30250443469423585922012-12-25T07:08:00.001-08:002012-12-25T07:17:28.085-08:00<br />
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Happy Christmas,</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>More poetry throughout today:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So much
depends</span><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">upon</span><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">a green
wheelbarrow</span><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">freighted
with </span><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">snow</span><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">beside the
brown </span><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">chickens</span><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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© Louise Green</div>
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<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwFr5JJMvPj6LJbeZztXsw55peaEyNJFN-xJdh9iNlZx_8a-lF3Pj5xe6DGs9qMfuzdk_dMtYWjMo1M3TKREdD6VzP6uoxCztI6JwsVNNlKxtebxX6KDYzkJTqszVzOVwWs5BSn8C3conS/s1600/chickens.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwFr5JJMvPj6LJbeZztXsw55peaEyNJFN-xJdh9iNlZx_8a-lF3Pj5xe6DGs9qMfuzdk_dMtYWjMo1M3TKREdD6VzP6uoxCztI6JwsVNNlKxtebxX6KDYzkJTqszVzOVwWs5BSn8C3conS/s320/chickens.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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© Paul Green</div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> ARCTIC TREES<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> snow-adorned<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> silver
birch <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> pale<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> tall<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> slim<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> as
Finns<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> rows
of iced <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> Folies
Bergeres<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> dancers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> coy<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> behind<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> delicate<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> ostrich feathers <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span><span lang="EL" style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">every
breath<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EL" style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span><span lang="EL" style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">on
pause </span></div>
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<span lang="EL" style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EL" style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwE3nYqVE8usQz7d1DFCjLJ9t1lhNN7T8s0xlxkTXF-SFHRFdOwmHEpaoB0_o_9-PwWA69XngjjGWOlrE2RY4AUzkTNDqKagFuQHrBDyyZ9yTbdKoX02Y0t6if1QFl_p-vhcxiKX9VcpR-/s1600/arctic+trees.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwE3nYqVE8usQz7d1DFCjLJ9t1lhNN7T8s0xlxkTXF-SFHRFdOwmHEpaoB0_o_9-PwWA69XngjjGWOlrE2RY4AUzkTNDqKagFuQHrBDyyZ9yTbdKoX02Y0t6if1QFl_p-vhcxiKX9VcpR-/s320/arctic+trees.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Poem and image - Margaret Eddershaw</div>
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Susan Jane Simshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288997964411380551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5419896225642419772.post-38647902608226561662012-12-24T05:02:00.002-08:002013-12-04T05:32:46.744-08:00Poetry Space Christmas poems and reflectionsAt this time of year busy as it is I like to find time for some personal reflection of all that is good about this time of year for a non- believer like myself.<br />
<br />
I like the connecting side of Christmas, spending time with family and dear friends, closing the doors, sitting rather too close to the fire and sharing memories, anecdotes and the occasional poems with everyone. I know there will be laughter, probably some tears as we remember the people no longer with us to share the fun and the warmth. I like also to think of people who may be spending this time alone and when the doors of the shops and cafes close find themselves without anyone to talk to.<br />
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It has become a tradition of Poetry Space to invite poems from Poetry Space supporters and others who have not visited before to be shared on this blog and I hope that over the next few days you'll send some in if you haven't already to be featured here.<br />
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I'll start everyone off with one from Mike Lee and add to it as the Christmas period progresses:<br />
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<b>Home or Away?</b> </div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">At Yule,
like the Magi, we three travellers usually fly far away<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">to distant
lands. This year, we journeyed north through spray<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">and murk
along a grumbling seasonal motorway,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">resolved to try
out Scotland’s ski-side slopes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Like Mr Toad
we headed for freedom on an open snowy Highland <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">road and
didn’t see the ice. Felt helpless as we slid and ended upside <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">down in frozen
bracken. Powerless and peckish, we dined on left-over<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">picnic-crusts
until a farmer’s chugging antique tractor towed us out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Welcome to our
Highland Christmas. Everything is on the ‘hoose’,” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">he said. So,
while the local garage fixed our car, some thirty miles <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">away, we
helped out with farm-yard chores and discovered that <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">counting sheep’s
a routine day-time task, for some, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0dDx-Cyi-JyQS5bnHlLf5syUPN6ecPubHIXxsZFxvCNWXbwz77Bun9i0r3tVzGxVvAG4bCjL2sbATmXK9paYpWfCQFGT243IwYEq_LM6r2IU6HzGAUQikuf3wWcGRH9DQ-751OLNKLegd/s1600/2006-03-25+14.00.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0dDx-Cyi-JyQS5bnHlLf5syUPN6ecPubHIXxsZFxvCNWXbwz77Bun9i0r3tVzGxVvAG4bCjL2sbATmXK9paYpWfCQFGT243IwYEq_LM6r2IU6HzGAUQikuf3wWcGRH9DQ-751OLNKLegd/s320/2006-03-25+14.00.06.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal">
©Chris Sims<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">and
mucking-out and milking can be much better fun <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">than accruing
bumps and bruises on the piste-runs.<u><o:p></o:p></u></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Driving
south, along a January-salted motorway, it dawned on all <a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=5419896225642419772" name="_GoBack"></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">of us: instead
of finding Santa on his camel at the swimming pool,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">we’d
stumbled, quite by chance, upon the real story with some <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">worldly angels,
a star, a shepherd-innkeeper and a whole array <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">of beasts - including
a donkey and a flock of sheep. So, next time <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">we’ll choose
to stay at home with friends for both Yule and Hogmanay. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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© Mike Lee</div>
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<i>Thanks Mike, Happy Christmas.</i><br />
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<i><br /></i>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">ANOTHER CHRISTMAS POEM<u1:p></u1:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And this year will it all be
the same?<u1:p></u1:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Grey rain. Slow, dark days.<u1:p></u1:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Too much to eat and drink.<u1:p></u1:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Too much, then too little, to
do.<u1:p></u1:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In this hiatus between manic
cold wet December<u1:p></u1:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">and miserable colder wetter
January<u1:p></u1:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">will I find the space to cast
off weariness<u1:p></u1:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">and mark another year lived
and learned from?<u1:p></u1:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Will I be able to sleep
deeply and dream contentedly?<u1:p></u1:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Will I find fellow-feeling
with friends and family<u1:p></u1:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">both near and far?<u1:p></u1:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Will we be warm and welcoming;<u1:p></u1:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">will we sing and dance and
celebrate?<u1:p></u1:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yes – for I know that I love<u1:p></u1:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">and am loved; and this is the
light.<u1:p></u1:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This is the light that we
create for ourselves<u1:p></u1:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">in the darkest of times,
however heavy the heart.<u1:p></u1:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So yes, I answer myself. Yes!<u1:p></u1:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This year, it will all be the
same.<u1:p></u1:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> © Jo Waterworth</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Thanks Jo, for your poem</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>and good wishes.</i></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY7OyC3PDDmgZhcdr7zwluQIKTEsKMraOKW2fVrYeMtaFD1kFQlbVJJR9Glku25UmqurLgATHTT9liAHOhduC5sCSwRd0_-BiyGi2tDWwmyfUd1eyYOx50MojrutJz1Qvm0VdMPSigfchj/s1600/093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY7OyC3PDDmgZhcdr7zwluQIKTEsKMraOKW2fVrYeMtaFD1kFQlbVJJR9Glku25UmqurLgATHTT9liAHOhduC5sCSwRd0_-BiyGi2tDWwmyfUd1eyYOx50MojrutJz1Qvm0VdMPSigfchj/s320/093.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Susan Jane Sims<br />
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Susan Jane Simshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288997964411380551noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5419896225642419772.post-38767229197170345232012-12-03T11:03:00.002-08:002012-12-03T11:03:35.341-08:00Read a poem, write a poem - Moira Andrew<br />
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<span style="line-height: 150%;">Well, it’s not as easy as all that
– there’s a lot more to writing a poem, as I know to my cost. The poet Wes Magee has said, </span><i style="line-height: 150%;">Poetry is two four-letter words – HARD
WORK! </i><span style="line-height: 150%;">But one thing is sure, the
more a poet reads, the more successful the subsequent writing becomes. </span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgboyt6dmcB2PzFtTQlrEa3qm1-oA8ttCoVR-wztEB7VBuKzyz70gzqcM5FwpPw3KCNA_KmQVY4yoO0jqyYGKx6i1ixVdEcv6dlh3laVbWUsAU7XgPa0jgV6eZK2OeT43VSEh9wbGcrqh-J/s1600/flower+in+border+Kate+Blair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgboyt6dmcB2PzFtTQlrEa3qm1-oA8ttCoVR-wztEB7VBuKzyz70gzqcM5FwpPw3KCNA_KmQVY4yoO0jqyYGKx6i1ixVdEcv6dlh3laVbWUsAU7XgPa0jgV6eZK2OeT43VSEh9wbGcrqh-J/s320/flower+in+border+Kate+Blair.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Kate Blair</td></tr>
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It’s true that
we poets have a compulsion to write, stimulated often by the most unlikely
things – a flower lighting up the border in winter, a scrap of overheard
dialogue, an unbidden memory that makes you catch your breath, the smell of
cinnamon … you never know where a poem is lurking. </div>
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And then there
is the whole therapeutic reason for writing, words really can bring wellbeing. Poets write of their loss when someone they
love has died, exploring loneliness, grief, anger, uncertainty. Some of our best and most direct work comes
as a by-product of deepest grief. To
quote Michael Rosen, <i>A poem is the best
way of saying big things in small spaces.</i><br />
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But poets
shouldn’t simply write – to develop our skills we need to read – and to read
widely. No use saying, <i>I’ve done all that – I read Wordsworth and
Shakespeare at school. </i>We’ve all
been there. We keep the work of the
traditional poets under our belts, often unaware of the debt we owe them.<br />
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No, I’m talking
about contemporary poets. As writers
living in today’s world, we need to speak and write in today’s language. If you go on an Arvon course, the first
questions you’re asked, even before the tutor has opened your folder, are <i>What do you read? Who is your favourite poet? Why do you like his/her work?</i><br />
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The tutors
recognise that poets need to be able to hear the rhythms in contemporary
poetry, the way dialogue is used, the various patterns created on a page. <i>But
what about traditional punctuation? </i>I’m asked, when readers are initially
floored by seeing verses in lower case or dialogue in italics. That’s not a problem. No poet is forced to drop capitals or formal
poetic structures – it’s just that sometimes a modern poem reads better that
way!<br />
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Keep a notebook,
all you would-be poets. Write down
scraps of ideas, dreams, quotes … but more importantly, read as much as you can
lay hands on of contemporary poetry. You
won’t like all you read, but you can begin to make comparisons and rate
different poets in your own private ‘poetometer’.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZfeclyAfiE8obruByOt4uv6AG4KZvWBjbA3qbZAFwbdQxdBc1hf0Sjj8WiYOJGWIZEsZso8PmC8kBtaN0f0ERL4CPoowSfPjNg6wnFpPWecdTnP0zEDYpSoA6LBARx9h0qV0jCHLAL9-4/s1600/0803Guatemala+&+Belize+(77).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZfeclyAfiE8obruByOt4uv6AG4KZvWBjbA3qbZAFwbdQxdBc1hf0Sjj8WiYOJGWIZEsZso8PmC8kBtaN0f0ERL4CPoowSfPjNg6wnFpPWecdTnP0zEDYpSoA6LBARx9h0qV0jCHLAL9-4/s320/0803Guatemala+&+Belize+(77).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Chris Sims</td></tr>
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Then experiment
by trying different subjects, new ways of placing your words on the page,
rhyming and non-rhyming, circular poems, shape poems, riddles, conversations,
narrative – your own version of a sonnet.<br />
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Explore, invent,
cross out, reinvent – experiment with different styles, a different pace. Occasionally you might see what happens if
your try a ‘copycat’ poem, changing ‘Prayer to the sun’ to ‘Prayer to the
moon’, adding your own take on the original.
Try using a phrase from an existing poem as a title of a new poem – and
see where it takes you.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVKTvhw7cbo3l1F1ZajSGWd2nMoSxj6KhIH6xMOpjwP85TmKHKjHRKyTeU_YySk3jiZiUbpWUSzJisQWI9Pk7QlWR6UezQTehF8aQhX2P0MaDJrIhuwpSWe7MyLo1jjWEJpDzg_UBvmlJp/s1600/100_0204.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVKTvhw7cbo3l1F1ZajSGWd2nMoSxj6KhIH6xMOpjwP85TmKHKjHRKyTeU_YySk3jiZiUbpWUSzJisQWI9Pk7QlWR6UezQTehF8aQhX2P0MaDJrIhuwpSWe7MyLo1jjWEJpDzg_UBvmlJp/s320/100_0204.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Susan Jane Sims</td></tr>
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Above all, put
down your pen, switch off the computer and spend time reading poetry
collections, magazines, anthologies. You
will be surprised at the riches you’ll find – but more to the point, your own
poetry will come on by leaps and bounds. <b><i>Read a poem, write a poem </i></b>that’s my
motto!</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Moira Andrew November 2012</span></div>
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Moira Andrew has been writing poetry for children and adults since the 1980's. In the past year she has had two collections published: <i>Firebird </i>(Indigo Dreams Publishing) and <i>Wish a Wish, </i>published by Poetry Space Ltd. </div>
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Wish a Wish, Moira's collection for children, illustrated by Anna Popescu is available in <a href="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/2012/06/1448/">Poetry Space Online Shop</a> at £5.99</div>
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Susan Jane Simshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288997964411380551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5419896225642419772.post-32479667012511034992012-11-19T09:47:00.001-08:002012-11-19T09:56:09.960-08:00STEPPING INTO POETRY – A PERSONAL JOURNEY by Geraldine Green<br />
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“A single walker, stepping into the
procession of language.”</span></i></b><i><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"> <b>Seamus
Heaney</b></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">When I was a child of three an
older brother, in trying to teach me French, Spanish and Greek, introduced me
to the pleasure in the <i>sounds </i>of
other languages, without understanding meaning. From an early age accents and
dialects fascinated me, whether the rough burr of farmers at an Ulverston
auction market, or the lilt and fall of family-visiting Irish, Polish, Italian
and American relatives in Cleator Moor and Whitehaven, mingling with west
Cumbrian dialect and its
why-use-two-syllables-when-three-can-make-a-word-into-a-song? For example, <i>to-o-wast</i>, for toast, or dad’s
‘Ista-ga’in tae Gaa-ity tae blaw tha’ nowuz an’ mak’ a scuttle?’ Meaning, ‘Are
you going to the Gaiety Picture House in order to blow your nose and make a
noise? The delight in the rhythm of people’s voices is to me something that
connects us through, as Robert Pinsky notes, a ‘column of air inside the
chest’. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">An intensely remembered childhood
moment is of writing my first poem after I had became mesmerised by the
wind-swaying branches of two silver birches in Bardsea Wood, feeling that if I
let go I would become part of them. Years later I discovered Robert Frost’s poem
‘Birches’ and was struck by the similarity between my experience and how Frost
described it in his poem. I, too, became “a swinger of birches.” As a child I
only dimly understood that it was a seminal moment in my life. What did the
experience mean? How could I ‘become part of the birches’? It was an experience
that propelled me into wanting to gain an insight into this kind of imaginative
encounter. It’s been an itch to be scratched, a mystery to be solved, a
‘something’ I need to address. It’s a lifelong quest and one way I felt it
could be understood was through poetry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Mind you, I always thought you
had to be clever to write poetry and go to Oxford or Cambridge University –
poetry wasn’t for me! However, after years of working at a variety of office jobs
and encouraged by my husband Geoff, I finally plucked up confidence, took the
plunge and did a degree titled Imaginative Writing/Literature, Life and Thought
thinking ‘well, if I’m useless at poetry, surely I can write an essay!’ To my
delight I fell into poetry and came away at the age of 44 with a degree. That
was it; I was Paul on the Road to Damascus! Even more so when I went on a
life-changing writing course at Ty Newydd, titled ‘Poetry, Healing and Meaning’
co-run by Rose Flint and David Hart, where I discovered that creative writing
could be used in a therapeutic way. The light of realisation that yes THIS is
what I want to do, use poetry/creative writing to help understand each other
and our connections with the world, human and non-human, burns more fiercely
than ever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Geraldine
Green gained a PhD in Creative Writing Poetry and an MA Creative Writing Poetry
(Distinction) through Lancaster University; a BA Joint Hons (First) and a
Research Diploma in Ecopoetics at Liverpool John Moores University. She is a
freelance creative writing tutor, mentor, visiting lecturer at the University
of Cumbria and an associate editor of online
magazine <a href="http://www.poetrybay.com/">Poetry Bay</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Her
collections are <i>The Skin</i> and <i>Passio</i> Flarestack Pubications, <i>Poems of a Mole Catcher’s Daughter</i>
Palores Publications and <i>The Other Side
of the Bridge </i>by Indigo Dreams. Geraldine was a contributor to a book on
therapeutic writing titled <i>Writing Works: </i></span><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">A Resource Handbook
for Therapeutic Writing Workshops and Activities</span></i><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span></i><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">published by Jessica Kingsley.<i> </i>Her next
collection,<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=5419896225642419772" name="_GoBack"></a> <i>Salt Road </i>will be published in summer
2013, also by Indigo Dreams. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Geraldine’s poetry has been widely anthologised in
the UK, USA and Italy and translated into Greek, German and Romanian. She
frequently performs her poetry in the USA. <span class="MsoHyperlink"> </span><span class="MsoHyperlink"><span style="color: windowtext;">In 2005 two of
her poems ‘Green Lizards’ and ‘Early Morning Prayer’ were highly commended by
Judge Penelope Shuttle in the Poetry on the Lake Competition, Orta Italy. She’s
a member of Lapidus UK and Lapidus North West.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="MsoHyperlink"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: Cambria, serif;">You can find information on her recent collection
here:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><a href="http://www.indigodreamsbookshop.com/#/geraldine-green/4565286878">Indigo Dreams Bookshop</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZWNCKibBQsFREnZGQN-VPwqFh0YcmTPzZRbNFyDJmundmICh7IAFUDO4NVkwk3FqOcPKkYAiMN2iFPkbSfMZgHDLUb25ZrSQMQx9OAaKcl4mECTqV_w7zuUiysmBgq6SqDEGebynDb01L/s1600/Geraldine+Green+Book+cover.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZWNCKibBQsFREnZGQN-VPwqFh0YcmTPzZRbNFyDJmundmICh7IAFUDO4NVkwk3FqOcPKkYAiMN2iFPkbSfMZgHDLUb25ZrSQMQx9OAaKcl4mECTqV_w7zuUiysmBgq6SqDEGebynDb01L/s320/Geraldine+Green+Book+cover.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">and
find out more about her here:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><a href="http://www.poetrypf.co.uk/geraldinegreenbiog.shtml">Poetry pf</a></span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/">Enter Poetry Space Competition 2013</a> Just £5 per poem. First Prize £250. All placed and short listed poets will have their poems in the prizewinners' anthology.<br />
<br />
The 2012 prize anthology will be available shortly.</div>
Susan Jane Simshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288997964411380551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5419896225642419772.post-42814838054978048932012-10-30T10:21:00.003-07:002012-10-30T11:17:21.444-07:00Preparing to be changed: Some thoughts on judging Poetry Space Competition 2013<br />
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<b>The fourth annual International Poetry Space Competition is opening for entries on Thursday November 1st. Ahead of this I asked our judge, poet Martyn Crucefix tell us a little about what he is hoping for from the competition entries.</b></div>
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<b>To enter go to <a href="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/2012/10/poetry-space-competition-2013-open-for-entries-from-november-1st-2012-to-june-30th-2013/">Poetry Space Competition</a></b></div>
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<b>Preparing to be
changed: some thoughts on judging the Poetry Space competition 2013<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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In the 2003 comedy film <i>Bruce Almighty</i>, Jim Carey plays God and, along with more obviously
useful powers, he has to respond to the prayers of the world. But people are always
praying; he rapidly approaches a kind of madness as voices swim around him,
clamouring for attention. He takes to reading the prayers in the form of
e-mails. He tries to answer them individually but is receiving them faster than
he can respond. He sets his e-mail account to automatically answer
"yes" to all, assuming this will make everybody happy. Of course, it
does not. </div>
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A poetry competition judge comparing himself to a
character playing God may be justly criticised – but I have in the past found the
initial phases of judging rather like Jim Carey’s experience. There are so many
and such a variety of voices clamouring to be heard and every one of them is
heart-felt, recording significant moments in people’s lives. There is a similar
sense of responsibility too – the raw nature of much of the writing is
impossible to deny. I’d like to set my response mechanism to say yes to
everybody, but the judge’s task has to be how to distinguish submissions <i>as</i> <i>poetry</i>.
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I am interested in how a poem uses its own shape – not
necessarily any regular or traditional form, but how its lines break, how the
rhythms are sustained. There are always poems submitted that attempt a formal
type of verse-making but this ought not to be allowed to tyrannise meaning with
the demands of a rhyme scheme. It’s always good to ponder Wordsworth’s
formulation – familiar though it may feel – that poetry is built from “emotion
recollected in tranquillity”. Poems made in the heat of the moment (and not
revised and reviewed) are seldom without their flaws. On the other hand, such
recollection can sometimes create an intellectualised distance that may do harm
to a good poem. But who said this art was an easy one?</div>
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Personally, I like poems that focus on small things and,
in effect, make arguments for the ways in which they communicate the bigger
issues that concern us all. I’m with Thomas Hardy in believing that “he used to
notice such things” is one of the greatest of compliments. Edward Thomas’ poem
about Spring, ‘But these things also’, likewise echoes this focus on what most
people tend to overlook:</div>
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The shell of a little snail
bleached<br />
In the grass; chip of flint, and mite<br />
Of chalk; and the small birds' dung<br />
In splashes of purest white . . .<br />
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But having said all this, I can assure potential
competition entrants that anything resembling a rule is there to be broken: any
poem in any form can work its magic. It will haunt its reader for days; make me
change the way I think and feel; make me see the world differently. Ultimately,
a poem contributes to who the reader is becoming. That is an exciting prospect
for the writer. I assure you it is an even more exciting one for the judge who settles
down to read it.</div>
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Martyn Crucefix</div>
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October 2012</div>
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Susan Jane Simshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288997964411380551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5419896225642419772.post-26957993690811561562012-08-26T09:01:00.000-07:002012-08-26T09:09:05.796-07:00<h2>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Poetry Space Competition 2012 - The Results</span></h2>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Judge : Cheryl Moskowitz</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">First Prize:</span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> Karen Harvey</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>Third Prize: David Mark Williams</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>Highly Commended:</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A Voice From England - Peter Gillott</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Gorilla - David C. Johnson</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Encounter at the Tea Tent - Diane Jackman</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Early Flowering - Julia McGuiness</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Night Ride - Carolyn O'Connell</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Ana's View - Margaret Eddershaw</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">John - in Memoriam - Susan Latimer</span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>Also for inclusion in the anthology:</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Not </i>Gilbert's - Misha Carder</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Criminal Record - George Stein</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">How You See - Julia O'Brien</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Midnight Encounters - Mike Lee</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Poker Man - Julia O'Brien</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Ashes and Cries are Much the Same - Judy Dinnen</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Dreams of Dead Woman's Handbags - Johanna Boal</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Skin of My Skin - Julia O'Brien</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Butterfly Blood - Gwen Seabourne</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Narcissus at the Window - Margaret Eddershaw</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The above poems will be published in <i>Words that Signify: Poems from Poetry Space Competition 2012 </i>edited by Susan Jane Sims. Publication date: November 2012.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>The top three winning poems:</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Missing </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">i.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Frantically
he searched their hotel</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">room but he
couldn’t find her </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">even though
the door was</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">locked on
the inside. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He ran out
onto the balcony peering </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">through the
darkness at the next,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">wondering if
she had jumped ship.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If only he’d
looked up,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">he might
have noticed</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">one small
white feather</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">sashaying
earthward.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">ii.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Later, after
many phone calls</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">and hours of
pacing the floor</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">he slumped
into a deep sleep.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Had he still
been awake</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">as the sun
rose</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">he would
have heard the flutter</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">as she
returned and </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">perched on
the hand rail.</span></div>
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© <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Karen Harvey</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Mussel
</b><i style="font-weight: bold;"><o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Squatting
alone on a jut in the bay, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">you
select the oldest, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">the
one whose rough crust <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">displays
a range of blue hues<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">rich
as the Ming in your grandmother’s cabinet.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Wrenched
from its clump with a swift twist,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">you
grip the mussel, crab-like, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">eye
only for this activity, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">ear
full of sea waves,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">scrunch
of rock on shell.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">How
it would spit its salt juice on impact, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">how
there was a kind of satisfaction <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">in
the sensation of being sprayed in this way,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">you
could never have thought <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">of
putting into words<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">until
now. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sometimes
it’s a tough business <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">to
prize the wings apart: <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">the
animal still bound at the tip <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">of
its lip by a clutch of seaweed beard.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In this sunset flesh feels warmer<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">than
the finger which strokes, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">searches
- each time a held breath - <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">for
the grit of a sea pearl.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Each
time a winner.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Dead
shell flicked into black water,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">you
study your booty from this angle, that.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Much
later, you’ll trek through the bracken<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">back
up the hill to the jingle <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">of
pearls in your pocket.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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© <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Julia O’Brien</span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The Hidden Boy</span></h1>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In this
picture, there is a hidden boy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You will have
to look closely to see him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">His ghostly
outline is faded into a huddle of gorse bushes, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">where he
crouches, watching whatever unfolds<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">as though on
a small screen, his eyes yellow petals,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">his skin a
burr of thorns. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He can remain
like this for hours,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">pleased to be
as silent as wood or stone,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">sustained on
the scent of coconut.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The family
eating their picnic on the grass<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">are unaware
they are being watched. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Their eyes
are fixed on the fine view,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">the estuary
spread below them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The boy
records everything they do, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">the loud food
they stuff their faces with,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">their
incessant, breezy chatter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When they
have gone, leaving their litter,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">a vacuum of
quiet, he will come out of hiding,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">his see through
bones showing only a clear sky,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">his mouth
clamped tight on a blue tongue.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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© <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">David Mark Willams</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Reactions from our top three prizewinners on their success:</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"I met Sue several years ago on a writing retreat and I have
enjoyed following Poetry Space from the outset, so I was absolutely over the
moon to hear that I had come first in the Poetry Space competition this year." Karen Harvey</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"A
generous prize, publication online <i>and</i>
in print: this is a wonderful surprise, an honour and an encouraging affirmation
of my sometimes-fragile writerly self. A big thank you to Poetry Space, and to
Cheryl for selecting my poem." Julia O'Brien</span></blockquote>
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"That's such wonderful news. I am
absolutely delighted. It's this kind of recognition that helps to
keep one going". David Mark Williams</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Judging Overview and Report –</span></h2>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What a privilege, and pleasure, this
business of judging a poetry competition! It’s impossible to resist that
initial urge to tear open the package of entries and do everything in a rush.
Skim the titles, gallop too fast past an extraordinary range of images,
thoughts and ideas. But then there is the settling in for the long slow
consideration and time taken to simply to bask in the wonder of the human mind
and its capacity to find endlessly ways of crafting a few words to convey
important truths and feelings, so often with a delicious sense of surprise,
beauty and humour. I read and re-read each and every poem, both silently and
aloud. I paused in the process to allow
each poem to penetrate in the way that it might. I set them aside to see what
lingered. Navigating through the pile again it was easier to see which poems
called me back, refusing to be discarded. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For this year’s Poetry Space Competition
there were many wonderful poems written on time-honoured subjects: love, loss, war,
animals, nature, relationships, the changing seasons, as well as poems dealing
with more quintessentially modern or unusual themes: DNA, redundancy, TV chefs,
Disneyland parades, the wonders of tomatoes, mangoes as the object of original
sin and temptation in the form of banoffee pie. Not surprisingly, with the kind
of weather that has dominated a good deal of 2012 in this part of the globe,
there were also plenty of poems that featured rain. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ultimately, the poems that impressed me the
most were those that dealt with their subjects, however common or unusual, in
unexpected ways. Though many of the poems dealt with difficult subject matter
and highly complex themes I came to most <a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=5419896225642419772" name="_GoBack"></a>admire poems
that found ways to express meaning with the clearest and simplest of language. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Amongst the highly commended, two of the
poems featured women driving cars. ‘Ana’s View’ is a beautiful portrait of a
woman whose tired cancer-ridden body has come to mirror the aged rust-afflicted
red Fiat car that she loves. Their final parting at a favourite seaside
destination is a powerful and moving demonstration of letting go. In ‘Night
Ride’ there is a different kind of vulnerability as a pregnant woman drives
through a blizzard to make it home. I liked both ‘Gorilla’, a clever critique
on the perils of rhyme, and ‘Encounter at the tea tent’ which pokes fun at the
British tendency for caricaturizing clergy, for their wryness and wit. To write
an elegy that works convincingly without gushing is one of the hardest things
to do in poetry. ‘A Voice from England’ and ‘John – In Memorium’ both succeed
exceedingly well in this respect. The former, written in the voice of a young WWII
soldier returning home on hearing news of his mother’s death, manages to
combine a conversational tone with some quite formal poetic imagery which feels
absolutely right for the subject and period it is written about. ‘John – In
Memorium’ written about the poet’s brother, is a tenderly drawn portrait of
sibling relationships and childhood memories which uses humour to good effect. And
finally, ‘Early Flowering’, is a sonnet which uses its form and language
extremely well to paint a picture of hope and success that is dashed by
disappointment and the pain of redundancy. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Though quite varied in their subject
matter, the three winning poems all share a ghostly quality. They are poems
that leave a trace of themselves behind after reading. There was something
discomforting and unnerving about all of these poems and that is what made them
strong. A good poem should attach itself to the reader, get under the skin, and
connect to partly known or remembered experiences. A good poem has you nodding or sighing in such
a way that says ‘Ah yes, I knew that!’ even when the poem is about something
you might never even have dreamt of before.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In third place, ‘The Hidden Boy’ is a
deliciously mysterious poem that somehow manages to be delightful and
heartbreaking all at the same time. On
the surface it is simply a poem about a photograph, one of those pictures that,
if you look closely enough at, suggest things are present that might not really
be there. In this picture a family is having a picnic, that is clear, but there
is some kind of trick of light perhaps, a ghostly outline that <i>is faded into a huddle of gorse bushes</i>
that seems to be a boy watching them. Within this impressively spare and held
back narrative the poet lets us know that both the boy and the group he is
watching are, or should be, related but will always be at a distance. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Second prize goes to ‘Mussel’, a visceral
poem with real <i>muscle</i> that describes
the finding and opening of this shelled sea creature, but does so much more
than that. For me what makes this an expansive poem, one that is much larger
than the subject matter itself, is the way that discovering and getting inside
the mussel seems to work as a metaphor for childhood, loss of innocence,
maturity and growth. The whole of life is contained here in the <i>Ming in your grandmother’s cabinet</i>… <i>scrunch of rock on shell… the jingle of
pearls in your pocket.<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And finally, ‘Missing’, the first prize
winner, is a deceptively brief poem written in two parts. It looks wispy, even
inconsequential, on the page because of its brevity perhaps, or because it is
split in two or maybe something to do with the quality of the title, but reading
it leaves one with a deep and inescapable sense of longing and regret.
Something or someone is missing, as the title suggests, but we can’t quite
decide whether it is a person, a lover or maybe just a bird that has flown. There is a breathlessness and an urgency in
the language, <i>Frantically he searched
their hotel… If only he’d looked up… Had he still been awake… he would have
heard</i>... The overall effect is one of a beautiful sadness, a feeling of
having loved and lost, and the image at the end of the first part is one that,
so simple and perfectly realized, will never leave me - <i>one small white feather/sashaying earthward.<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Cheryl Moskowitz, August 2012</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Warmest thanks to everyone who entered this year. Poetry Space Competition 2013 will be judged by Martyn Crucefix and will open for entries on November 1st 2012. </span></div>
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Susan Jane Simshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288997964411380551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5419896225642419772.post-9282038121930331552012-07-01T10:40:00.001-07:002012-07-01T10:40:10.408-07:00Competition updatePoetry Space Competition 2012 closed at midnight on June 30th.<br />
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Winners will be notified in the last week of August and the results published on this blog and at <a href="http://www.poetryspace.co.uk/">www.poetryspace.co.uk</a><br />
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Thanks to everyone who entered. We had well over 100 entries from the UK and overseas.Susan Jane Simshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288997964411380551noreply@blogger.com0