Here are the results of the November 2013 Competition. It has been a difficult task judging this as there were so many good poems sent to me this time and entries are getting more. I will be sending congratulations cards to all the entrants in the top 6 as well as the prizes for the winner and runner up.

Here are the top six poems in order:

Winning poem – Seamus Harrington Rovaniemi ’72 A really original idea here and engaging writing to bring it to life.

Runner up – Jonathan Cweorth Tulips

3rd Tim Harvey A Pale Print

4th Jo Roberts The Pitman Painters

5th Noel King Comics

6th Peter Lyons Seaside

The shortlisted entries were as follows: David Mackenzie If I Could Choose, Hannah Rose Bicknell Lignum Vitae, Jem Clear A Life In Coffee , John Ward My Island (fallout from a lost weekend) Jonathan Cweorth Imperium, Lucy Berry Cold White Tomb, M Collins The Sociopath, Peter Lyons Staying Out Of Jail, Steve Garrett Match Of The Night, Helena Kelleher Kahn According To Our Time Seamus Harrington – 2 poems My Last Williwaw and Testcement Speed Ramps Ann Palmer 2 poems Mow to Moo River Tree Tom O’Malley The Friend Rev Tear Too Late Helen Robins Floret Carpentry Shirley Ann Cook The Nearly Bird.

It is notable that Seamus Harrington won my May 2012 competition with his excellent poem White Out.  The ideas in his two winning poems are unalike  and it’s good to see an accomplished poet writing poems about differing subjects with such success. Since winning my May 2012 competition he has been featured in Southword Journal.

Rovaniemi ’72
066°30′ NO 25°44’E

Over-sized customised
slouch down street cars.
Transnational plates
lumber jack the lads
low profile alloys
hard men soft tops
flat-bed pickups
big bore chrome pipes
flat blat bark
Check it out baby.

Sonorous Harleys parade
down the avenue
past good time seekers
and onerous logs rafted up
across a silver river.
Supercharged growlers
wide wheel-arched
dragster wannabees.
Bystanders giggle
at  new wealth old sport
copious tongues
just one body language.

News flash! Reindeer parched
Alaskan ice cream
in short supply.

Gazers in gazebos
back pack hikers
I heard it through the grapevine
lone prospectors
window shopper ladies long
haul tourists
Norway vote no!
Crawl around the Motown
one more time
Lapp it all up,
c’mon let’s party
sundown is not
for two months yet.






On Friday I buy five

spike each juicy stem into a holder

bind them strait just below the waterline

dump in some chemical nutrients


and they are perfect.


By Monday morning

the yellow-streaked leaves

are jagged spearpoints

the perfect buds blackened

but still growing

bending awry

dying with fierce vitality


a netful of eels looking for loopholes


the eyestalks of a hunting alien

each with its own mission:

to pierce the wall with x-ray vision

to interpret my computer

to drink from the overhead light

to prove gravity by diving from the table

to aim a luminous black-starred heart

at mine.

 Jonathan Cweorth is a poet and playwright living in Dunedin, New Zealand.  He has had poems published in Poetry NZ and the Otago Daily Times, and his plays have been performed in the Dunedin Fringe Festival, Celtic Arts Festival, and Alexandra Thyme Festival. When not writing, he performs with his early music group, the Rare Byrds.


I am an English teacher, living in West Sussex.