2010 Poetry Society Stanza Competition – commended poems
Theme: ‘Elsewhere’. Read the winner and runners-up on www.poetrysociety.org.uk
Page 1 of 11
Our judge, Sheenagh Pugh, picked out ten commended poems in addition to the
overall winner and the two runners-up. All ten poems are presented below in
alphabetical order, accompanied by comments from Sheenagh. Sheenagh made her
choices anonymously.
Sheenagh Pugh: “The theme of ‘Elsewhere’ inspired a lot of verbal holiday snaps,
also poems about loss and grief. I did take the existence of the theme into account, to
some extent, when making my final choices, because when I re-read the 20 or so
poems I had set aside as contenders. not all of them struck me as having much to do
with the theme. Simply setting a poem in an exotic location, for instance, doesn't
necessarily make it about ‘elsewhere’. Some poems that I felt were only tangentially
related to the theme did still make it through to my list of ten commended, because
they were too good to ignore, but my three winners are not only poems I rated highly
but also poems that genuinely addressed the set theme of ‘elsewhere’ in some way.
Some general comments which may perhaps be of use to entrants for future
competitions. I would say that easily my most frequent reason for rejecting a poem
was that it didn't trust the reader enough. All poems walk a tightrope in the giving of
information; give too little and you risk baffling your readers, give too much and you
will annoy them and dilute their reaction. What we find out for ourselves makes a
greater impact on us than what we are told; as readers we like to feel we have gone on
the same journey as the poet, and even perhaps reached the end slightly ahead of him.
The great comic Max Miller used to advise comedians that they should not need to
give the punchline of a joke; if they had told it properly, the audience should guess it
just before they got there (which in his case was just as well, as it was generally
unrepeatable). This is very like Hemingway's maxim, ‘Always leave out the wow at
the end of a story’ and the principle's the same, to make it a participatory rather than a
spectator sport. The tightrope is hard to walk, but if in doubt I would unhesitatingly
go for telling too little, or what seems too little, and trusting my readers to be sharper
than I took them for. Many poems have unnecessary last lines that spell out in large
letters what has already been conveyed in the poem, just in case the reader has missed
it. Or they explain in detail some reference to an event or another author that might
have struck us with a little shock of recognition, had we been allowed to notice it for
ourselves. If you're going to make an impact with a poem, there are many things you
must find a way of conveying without actually saying.
I'd also suggest being a bit careful about situations that seem to provide a perfect
metaphor for the theme you want to convey, simply because if the parallel is that
obvious, you can be sure at least half a dozen others will have used it. In this
competition there must have been about that number of poems in which a Western
tourist travels through a poverty-stricken area in an air-conditioned car, while the
inhabitants watch from outside. I can see how this must seem a heaven-sent way of
conveying the insulation of the tourist from the experience of the alien place, and the
non-communication between people of different cultures, but it's just too obvious and
too often done. There are also stylistic tics that seem to come in fashions. Nobody
could predict that bees would be so popular this year; they cropped up all over the
place, and there's nothing wrong with that in itself, but for some reason they generate
hyphenated adjectives; poems were not so much full of bees as bee-laced, bee-busy,
bee-laden – I blame Yeats and that bee-loud glade. It doesn't take many of these
before you read a totally new poem and get a feeling of déjà vu.”
2010 Poetry Society Stanza Competition – commended poems
Theme: ‘Elsewhere’. Read the winner and runners-up on www.poetrysociety.org.uk
Page 2 of 11
Andy Jackson
Vanishing Point
Here is rest, your journey’s end. The welcome mat
put out for you says this is now the place where you belong.
Here is food, and drink. We’re guessing that
you haven’t had a meal in days. Eat up, grow strong.
Here is work, to liberate yourself. No time for chat.
The music of your industry will be a selfless song.
Here is order. Nothing’s overlooked. Your hat
and coat please. Only we decide if this is wrong.
Wilkommen. Witajcie. Dobro pozhalovat.
Stay in line. No talking there. Now, move along.
2010 Poetry Society Stanza Competition – commended poems
Theme: ‘Elsewhere’. Read the winner and runners-up on www.poetrysociety.org.uk
Page 3 of 11
Anne Stewart
The Spanish Islands
‘I’ve booked a holiday village’
she says. I see cockroaches and thieves
and lager louts abusing the pool
but say ‘What date do we leave?’
There’s a purpose to this holiday
neither of us has spoken of.
Who speaks of broken years?
Mothers of daughters lost?
I look up local festivals and foods,
advice for tourists, hire a car.
She buys new crossword books
and tops her list with decks of cards.
And that first night, the rhythmic
wash of sea interrogating land
will tiptoe with us in the dark
uncertain of the shifting sand.
2010 Poetry Society Stanza Competition – commended poems
Theme: ‘Elsewhere’. Read the winner and runners-up on www.poetrysociety.org.uk
Page 4 of 11
Emma Danes
The Lonely Places
They weren’t to know. I’ve taken years
to track a safe path through my head
those tricks like tussocks of heather
to skirt unreliable thoughts
the soft suck of all the lonely places,
their deep throats, quick swallow.
Out here, a fistful of earth bleeds
water, fields wear a shroud of rain.
You can see the ploughed ribs poke through,
the grass like straggled hair, the gulls.
2010 Poetry Society Stanza Competition – commended poems
Theme: ‘Elsewhere’. Read the winner and runners-up on www.poetrysociety.org.uk
Page 5 of 11
Janice Flynn
Upon Feeling Homesick
In my home town stuck
in a traffic jam on Pulaski Road
I suddenly feel homesick.
For a year I stayed away
and didn’t think of this road once.
Though when I’m stressed
my dreams always bring me back
to Chicago’s streets.
Now I’m actually here waiting
for the traffic to move watching
the ComEd workmen lay cords
below the street at 57th.
Unfashionable people wait for buses
and cross the street. Polish delis
nestled next to Mexican taquerias.
A squad car zooms past, an ambulance
and fire engine follow. Gang warfare marks
the garages with graffiti:
the Latin Kings’ high art.
A train passes with cars
filled with things going elsewhere
its steady clank, clank and horn warning
at the intersection. Midway’s planes
rock to their descent at 75th
barely five hundred feet above us.
To miss something
is to love it still. So many come
from so far away and I have the nerve
to forsake it. This city will not free me easily.
I relent so it may let me go.
2010 Poetry Society Stanza Competition – commended poems
Theme: ‘Elsewhere’. Read the winner and runners-up on www.poetrysociety.org.uk
Page 6 of 11
John Elinger
The Laodicean
‘Unto the angel of the church of the Laodiceans write: … I know thy works, that thou art neither
cold, nor hot: I would that thou wert cold or hot. So then because thou art lukewarm, … I will
spue thee out of my mouth.’ The Revelation of St. John the Divine III 14-16
There used to be seven cities of that name once.
Mine was the one mentioned in Revelations,
one of the seven earliest Asian churches.
Laodicea, in my time, was wealthy:
located by a river on a trade-route
connecting the Euphrates, Pergamum and
Ephesus (to the north). Our sheep were famous –
or rather the soft wool their fleeces yielded,
which made us money; and we learned that money
breeds just like sheep. Rich cities create culture:
we built a temple and a school of medicine –
you know the image of our Zeus Aseis,
remember the Laodicean sceptic
philosophers, perhaps admire the ruins?
(The city was destroyed by Turks and earthquakes.)
I sometimes wonder whether all that money
made us so cool (St. John said we were tepid!)
or if our coolness – moderation, call it –
was what had made us rich? Gold, and white clothing,
make men take care; and carefulness engenders
wealth. (Is that circle virtuous, or vicious?)
An old man, I no longer see the wretched
beggars across the street, or hear the urgent
knock at the door. I live alone, drink lukewarm
water alone, and share my meals with no man –
content, and proud, to be Laodicean.
Why should we seek extremes of cold or passion,
commitment or detachment, ice and fire? I
will sit here in the shade, expecting nothing,
until the Turks invade, or the earth trembles.
2010 Poetry Society Stanza Competition – commended poems
Theme: ‘Elsewhere’. Read the winner and runners-up on www.poetrysociety.org.uk
Page 7 of 11
Julie Lumsden
Christina The Astonishing Arrives in Covert Crescent
to Prepare The Faithful for The End of Days
Oh Lord, where am I?
Where is my narrow cot, my book?
Who is this man following me from room to room?
Yesterday I let him guide me to the Health Centre –
the five wounds of my stigmata sparking fire, eyes
blinded by visions. The Paschal Moon began it.
The Friday Passion sent me cawing to the rafters
in front of a congregation shifty with embarrassment.
Only the anorexic child understands
and suggests building me a hidden hermitage
in trees behind the playing field.
Father Feeney emails the Vatican about my knowledge
of twelfth century Latin, he cocks his head to one side
that way he has, eyes bluer than Mary’s robe,
I’ve tried not to always let my eyes
return to him even in the bits he sits out.
The Mass is not what it was –
during what they call their Sign of Peace,
an elderly woman, attempting to embrace me,
was blown the length of the church
by my reluctant sigh. Dear God, how may I
prepare these people for the shattering?
I’m not so much sickened by the stench of sin
as shocked by the paltriness of their concerns.
How do I deal with them? How may I endure
the ordinary stuff of days, who have flown elsewhere
so strangely, skimming these dormitory roofs,
high, fast, out of bounds?
2010 Poetry Society Stanza Competition – commended poems
Theme: ‘Elsewhere’. Read the winner and runners-up on www.poetrysociety.org.uk
Page 8 of 11
Kate Compston
Working up
Hear this. In my old town house,
genteel and shabby, tall-storeyed,
phrases loiter in the scullery, waiting
for promotion above stairs,
there to be liveried, delivered
into sentences, sentenced to public scrutiny,
sentenced to breath.
I am holding mine, but do not advocate
lung-burst on your part: the old bells
do not ring in the modern city. Service
is not what it was – such want
of dignity! It’s instant-everything: none will wait
for a gradual working up. Sound-bites crash in
unceremoniously. My truth comes in too late.
2010 Poetry Society Stanza Competition – commended poems
Theme: ‘Elsewhere’. Read the winner and runners-up on www.poetrysociety.org.uk
Page 9 of 11
Margaret Haig
my journey
my journey has been filled with trees and deer and rabbits and
pigeons and cows and sheep and flooded plains and hills; rolling
rising and falling like a man’s chest in all manner of green: lime and
moss and lichen and oak leaf and fern and grass and ivy, all fed by
water, by rain and river and tributary and flood and channel; all
crossed by bridge and footpath and railway and road; and houses and
ruins and churches and cottages all line the way, provoking thoughts
of holidays and saints and pilgrimages and above all the thought of
the sea – but not yet.
first there are cities and suburbs and towns and villages and hamlets
and farms and steam trains and dogs and sewage works and buddleia
and blackberries and nettles and cows and pylons and hedgerows and
crops and meadows and gateways and pathways and highways; and
time passes slowly while landscape passes swiftly, and hillocks and
inclines and valleys and dips are so different from the city, so luscious
and verdant and alive and I am alive and wondering at the weeds and
trees and blossom and the country, and the escape and release from
the city and the grey, to see green and growing the plants and trees,
the grazing cattle and the scudding clouds.
but I want to see the sea – not long now, to see hills become cliffs,
and gulls and red stone and pebbles and waves eternally lapping on
the pebbles and memories and nostalgia and the future and the sea,
immense and powerful and beautiful and that part of me locked
safely away until this journey, now bursting out and longing for salt
and the sea…
2010 Poetry Society Stanza Competition – commended poems
Theme: ‘Elsewhere’. Read the winner and runners-up on www.poetrysociety.org.uk
Page 10 of 11
Robbie Burton
Eternal Plane
London, 24 July 2010: The UK-built Zephyr unmanned aerial vehicle is officially the first 'eternal plane' in
history.
i
Way beyond wind and weather
a new sensing
powered by solar panels and fuelling
the interviewer’s gabble...
...surveillance platform... always there...
ii
Way beyond eye and knowledge,
sand grains lit by the sun.
Grains that crunched under
sandalled feet way back when
the bush - you know the one – the bush
blazed loud with undying fire.
iii
Lost in the dust of her husband’s armchair,
a widow considers
timings of almond tree blossom,
the grasshopper dragging himself along.
She reads down the text past
man’s eternal home to mourners
going about the streets. This,
she thinks, is what happens next
2010 Poetry Society Stanza Competition – commended poems
Theme: ‘Elsewhere’. Read the winner and runners-up on www.poetrysociety.org.uk
Page 11 of 11
Sarah Westcott
Afterlife
The marshes have filled themselves
with wetness and bird song
since they were left alone.
The Basran reed warbler breeds
deep in Mesopotamian banks,
the original garden of Eden.
Each dusk, birds with dark eyestripes
flash amber shadows low
over lakes and gleaming mud.
So many species are flourishing,
the African darter, the sacred ibis one day women in libraries, flocks of singing girls.