Here are the results of the Inaugural Charm Poetry
Competition.
Six poems were placed in the highly commended category.
These were
- · Someone’s nicked my children’s t’s by Stuart Blair
- · The Closest I get to Flight by Katriona Campbell
- · Love Number 1 by Tom Clarke
- · Parentheses by Doreen Hinchliffe
- · The Okapi Malarkey by Amara Seabrook
- · Teacher by Clair-Louise Walsh
Third prize
The third prize of £25 was awarded to John Ling for his poem
‘Anti-viral’.
John writes “I have been writing poetry most of my life and
have had over 30 published in various anthologies over the years. I have two
published poetry books - "Alice the Healer" (2010 and 2nd ed
2021) and "People pie" (Orton, 2021). Two books of social stories for
autistic children, and two short story books, "Paper aeroplane
man" 2016 and "Mrs Loud and Mrs Quiet" 2020. All available
via Amazon. I work as a mediator for families with special needs children,
couples and neighbours in conflict. My website is www.johneling.co.uk.”
Anti-viral
Last night alone soon after you had gone
I found myself just laughing yet again.
Not laughing at you, though for
sure
that’s what you often say you
think I do,
but laughing at the laughter that
we share.
A laughter that just waits to be
released
by twinkles in the eye and saucy
touch.
And once it’s out it cannot be
suppressed.
It bubbles up just like a happy
child,
a joyful dog that jumps at sticks
for fun.
And should we look for reasons
there are none.
Our lives apart predictable and dull.
But together we grow colourful and
free.
You are my health care, my
vaccine.
Come lock me down and chuckle me
to death.
Second prize
The second prize of £50 was awarded to Victoria Sherratt for
her poem ‘Sound Supermarket’.
Victoria writes “From reading A A Milne’s poetry as a child
I have long had a fascination with words and how they can be put together to
form stories in rhythm and rhyme, but it was about five years ago, and not
until I was in my sixties, that I took the time to work on my creative skills.
I found a poet mentor to help me, went on a couple of excellent writing
retreats and joined various local groups to encourage me in both appreciating,
and writing, poetry.
I have been published in an anthology produced by my local
Poetry Society Stanza, shortlisted in a poetry competition run by Shelter,
and recently won second prize in the national u3a poetry competition.”
Sound Supermarket
At the music counter I ask for fat
rashers
of jazz, half a kilo of opera,
several packets
of sweetened incidental
music.
I need a click for the
kettle
to let me know it has boiled
and a clink of spoon that
stirs
in milk and sugar, a little
sigh
to accompany my sitting down,
a sachet of crunches for my ginger
biscuit.
I want some conversation, long as
spaghetti,
but with more substance, and for a
treat
a few phrases of Italian to go
with tonight’s pizza.
Here’s assorted birdsong, loose in
big tubs,
to scatter throughout the day.
I’ll take three.
I’m not going to buy any barking this
week
for the neighbour’s dog, nor the
motory noises
of Sunday afternoon lawn
mowers,
chainsaws chewing wood, no roars
or revs for speeding motorbikes.
I choose familiar noises for my
house -
the creaks, a softly closing
door,
your footsteps coming down the
stairs.
First Prize
The first prize of £100 was awarded to Andrew Wilson for his
poem ‘Once upon a Llama’.
Andrew writes “I've been writing for
a couple of years but have only recently discovered poetry. I love the variety
within poetry and the freedom it allows to play with form and rhythm and words.
I am dyslexic and therefore reading and writing don't come completely naturally
to me. For that reason, shorter form writing such as poetry is wonderful
because I can create something short but with impact. And, as this competition
shows, poetry can allow you to let your hair down and create something truly
silly and joyful if you are so inclined. I've never had anything published and
I've never won anything for my writing either. This is the first but hopefully
not my last success in poetry.”
Once Upon a Llama
The phone rings, I answer “Hello,”
“Hello,” comes the reply, “I’m
sorry, I don’t want to alarm ya,
My name is Alana, Alana Sharma and
I’m a llama farmer.”
“A llama farmer?”
“Yes, a llama farmer, don’t worry,
I mean you no harma,
It’s just that life is lonely as a
solitary llama farmer.”
I pause and think, quite
mystified, “How did you get my narma?”
“It was easy,” comes the reply,
“you see, I’m quite the charmer,”
“I don’t have time for your
games,” I say.
“Don’t worry, I won’t keep you
much larna,”
“Okay,” I say, what the hay? I can help a
llama farmer.
“How can I help? Don’t let it
simmer, let’s take your enquiry farther,
But before we do, let me ask you,
is it hard to farm a llama?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never tried, I
couldn’t farm a llama,
I wouldn’t feel right, morning
noon or night, knowing I’d farmed a llama.”
“Come again,” I say, “Did I not
hear right? You said you’re a llama farmer,
I’m sure you said, the words stuck
in my head, you’re Alana the llama farmer?”
“Yes, that’s right my name’s Alana
and I’m a llama farmer,
But how could a llama farmer farm
a llama? Your logic causes alarma.”
“I beg your pardon,” I say, “Don’t
accuse me of drama,
You called me up, you introduced
yourself as Alana the llama farmer.”
“Our wires are crossed,” came the
reply, “I understand and now feel calmer,
You thought me a farmer who keeps
llamas, but I’m a llama who’s a farmer.
Imagine me, with cages, see, lined
up and stuffed with llamas,
That wouldn’t do, imagine Auntie
Sue, I couldn’t farm a Sharma.”
“Right,” I said, “We’ve put that
to bed, so your name is Alana,
You’re a llama and a farmer but
you couldn’t farm a llama.”
“That’s it,” said Alana, “I’m glad
you understana, it really couldn’t be sampler.”
“Fine,” I say, “But if you’re a
llama and a farmer but you couldn’t farm a llama,
What do you farm with all that
charm that you previously explainallamad?”
After a pause the reply came.
“Alpacas.”
