September's Theme is Limericks (brought forward from the cancelled May competition)

There was a Young Miss from Srood
(Srood is next door to Rochester, Kent)

There was a lovely young miss from Strood,
Whose sweet stuffed-up nose was misconstrued.
She asked for Cherry Tunes;
Received a tin of prunes;
I can't quote her response, it's too rude!

Andrew Hider

Alter Ego
 
There's a mad old bat lives on our street
With thirteen cats her home can't be neat
But she's kind, she's funny
Her mood's always sunny
She's always such a treasure to meet.
 
infannity

There was a Young Man from Kent

There was a young man who lived in Kent;
His pride and joy grew rather- erm- bent.
His wife she espied it,
She couldn't believe it;
So she gave up all talking for Lent!

Andrew Hider

So-So

There was a Cunard White Star sailor
Who was a real miserable failure
Every time he left home
To set sail and to roam
Seasickness gave him have a seizure.

Andrew Shiston

Naughty

There was a nursery grower from Leeds
Who swallowed several packets of seeds
His hair turned to wild grass
Flowers grew from his ass
And he was always covered in reeds.

Andrew Shiston

Hmmmmm

There was an old seaman from Boston
Who always collected old flotsam
One day down at the beach
Floating just out of reach
Was a mermaid without any top on

Andrew Shiston


Ah Well

There was an old seaman called Andy
Who was always feeling quite randy
One day at the seaside
He paid for a horse ride
And came away with legs that were bandy.

Andrew Shiston

October's Theme is
Poetry Walks

Recipe to Break a Heart

Take one level measure of pain,
Apply it again and again.
Enough salt for too many tears,
And mix them slowly over the years.
Peel away the dream; discard the hope inside,
Crush out of existence any remnants of pride.
Blend grief and disappointment, then leave to stew a while.
Add a final twist of bitterness, and serve it up in style.
When life offers me this rancid cup, I vow in wordsunspoken,
I'll drink it and come back for more, for this heart can't be broken.

Celia Naylor

Tightrope

I step out,
nerves taught,
arms outstretched.
Giddy...
Stomach churning
as the ground falls away
from before me.

Mustn't look back.
Don't look back.

Just look ahead.


Karen Harvey


'LOVELY'

'Lovely'
they called her
i think they felt sorry for her.

She was so young
yet in her mind
so old, too old even.

The burden of each day
had taken the sparkle
from those once shining eyes.

The long desperate struggles
to clear the cobwebs from her heart
suddenly ended today.

Though tired, she did not give up
and fought one last time
despite knowing her opponent was too strong.

Goodbye my dear friend
at least i always knew it to be true
you were so lovely.

Sarah Elsdon

Haiku for Courage

You wish for the end,
But take courage for loved ones;
And so keep living.

Andrew Hider

December's Theme is Christmas - well, why not??

Explaining Pantomime to a Foreign Visitor



'Why is widow Twanky so tall, and why does she have such a deep voice?

'Well… that's because, 'She… is a 'he.'

'Couldn't they find an actress to play the part?'

'There was a lovely young lady that turned up for the audition, but she was picked to play the principle boy!'

'What! Next you're going to tell me that the Wishee and Washee are bouncers, just in case the audience gets restless.'

Something like that. (Big shrug) Come on. Let's go. I'll treat you to some good old 'fish and chips.'



Karen Harvey

The Song of the Last Robin Redbreast

Snow white Christmas softly settling
on the far-off forest of fir trees
and the lonely song of the last robin
redbreast ...
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Listen my child!

You may hear the silent footfall
of the reindeer
and the gentle shake of bells
in the falling snow
when you drift to sleep.

On a snow-covered moonlit rooftop
in John O'Groats
the jolly red man is already stuck
in a chimney
with a sackful of mobile phones
with jingle-bell call tones
and a 12-speed bicycle
with a Brooks saddle
stamped
made in England.

Santa comes in answer to a million prayers
letters
e-mails and faxes
sent to his cosy brandysnap log-fire house
conveniently situated
somewhere
up there
in the icicled arctic circle.

Up there, even now, tireless overworked elves
with tiny wooden hammers
and fretsaws
are working away;
building wooden train sets
and pencil boxes
that nobody wants
anymore.

Listen my child!

The last robin
is singing his final song.

Gwil Williams

Christingle

I sit here in this old church,
A church full of souls;
Of brownies, rainbows, guides,
With parents, brothers, sisters, friends;
And the door of my mind opens,
And I wait for the words to walk in.
I do not firmly believe,
Nor disbelieve;
But like to leave my windows open,
To let in the sunshine of possibility.
I am not religious,
But nor do I scorn religion.
Better that,
Than the new fake religion,
Of profit and loss,
Retail sales and brainwashed, grasping hands.
Which gives so much to take the very souls of humankind;
And ignores the violent prisons of poverty.
So I sit in this sacred place;
Which I find comforting,
With the holiness of years;
And allow these words,
To be ushered through my door,
Onto this page;
As yet unseen,
Except in my mind.
I hear voices of the young,
And also the not so young.
The fading daylight glows,
Through magic colour of stained glass;
Old stone arches,
Hold the vaulted roof in their ancient hands.
A baby in front of me grins;
She is keen on the paper songsheet that I hold,
So she could see how it tears up,
If she could.
I feel safe here,
If just for this hour.
And the world of crap and plastic,
And of stress and pressure,
Is shut out,
Although the church door remains open;
And Christmas turns into Christmas.
We are given our Christingles,
Oranges with candles within.
The candle,
Christ's light;
The orange,
The world,
For which his light shines.
As after all,
Christ begins the word Christingle;
As he does Christmas.
But this light can give love,
And hope,
To all.
For all religions and creeds;
For believers and non-believers alike.
The love of the world;
The hope for the world,
For peace for the world;
The magic of the world;
A gentle, flickering, sacred flame.
As children stand around the church,
They sing,
And hold these symbols of love.
They are the nearest I will probably get,
To seeing angels;
As these little flames dance
To their voices,
And glow in their innocent faces.
Flickering flames,
As though moths have become angels themselves,
When at last they join the light they seek;
And shine and flutter with life,
Golden wings in the darkness.
As the service ends;
My wife, son, daughter and I,
Walk out into the graveyard,
Bathed in twilight;
To say goodbye to an old friend;
To read the message his beloved family left,
When he was taken so suddenly away.
We find his grave,
Where the graveyard ends;
Some distance from the church,
Where the precious earth cares for him.
A mighty beech tree stands guardian here,
Living in the earth,
As the candle lives in the orange.
Lights peer from the church,
Donating a pale gleam;
And watching hills are the congregation;
As golden leaves,
Ghostly on this great tree,
Sing songs as one flame;
In whispering breeze.
As Autumn survives,
To embrace Winter,
And see this holy evening;
Mother Nature's own Christingle.

Andrew Hider
(Boxley Church, December 2005)

December for Me

Cold Icicles not niceicles
In December cold and bleak
Show how cold it is outside
A pavement skating rink
Slipping, sliding everywhere
In December’s northerly wind
Lets stay by the lovely fire
It’s such a nicer friend
Cold icicles not niceicles
In Decembers freezing days
Until the snow Where child go
Snowball fights they play
Shivering yet quivering
Excited screams we hear
Christmas comes then it goes
Which brings a brand new year

Gordon Allsopp

Christmas Day

Wrapped up warm against winters foolish cold
Huddled in the warmest corner of the veranda
Outside once again with the old oak tree
Listening to the creaking branches
Watching fluffed up greenfinch steal a peanut
From underneath a trembling squirrel
Waiting for Christmas to rise above bare branches
And see the distant lights flick on
As sleepless youngsters sneak an early present
This quiet early day before excitement and the noise
Gives time to greet the day and say a quiet prayer.

Andrew Shiston

January's Theme is "Design a Poetry Postcard" the prize will be for the best one to have it made up into real postcards.

February's Theme Love and Sex - and all twists and variations on the theme.

To submit for the themes page from September to June use the
'Submit Poetry' button in the navigation panel to the left.

We need all the theme entries by the last weekend in the month please. Winners will be published in the 2005 anthology, and there will be an engraved plaque presented to the first place in every themed contest at that books launch party. Winners also accrue publisher points if they are members.

Why do we have themes?

Well, simply to attract poetry from people with a particular life experience angle, or to throw a subject into the air to get some creative juices flowing.

The prizes for the contest each month will be an engraved plaque, publication of your poem, a copy of the anthology that your work appears in, and a share of whatever royalty payment we make for that edition. We are currently planning a presentation evening for the prizes.

Themes List 2004/2005:

September theme is Limericks: This was for May but as the theme for May was cancelled due to relocation, I have brought this forward to September 05. Andrew Hider has asked for more Limericks please! He thinks that you Limerickicists don't have a fair chance among the more serious poems and he has asked for this month's theme to be dedicated to the Limerick. Please see our poetic forms page for details.
October theme: Poetry Walks - let's have a theme to get the book project finished. Please send in poems suitable for the poetry walks book and we will complete it in time for the spring. - still open for submissions until the end of December.
November theme: Courage - Thanks to Celia Naylor for this theme idea - still open for submissions until the end of December.
December theme: Christmas
January theme: Design a poetry postcard - please feel free to include images but be certain that you hold any copyright for them. We might be able to produce the best ones! A6 size please. Please send as jpg images or word documents, pdf files or Indesign documents.
February theme: Love and sex - please feel free to elaborate on this theme or twist it to suit you!
March theme: Short Plays - we have had some short plays submitted, so a theme for them has been created. No more than 2 sides of A4 please.
April theme: Outdoor Poetry Installations - ok it's now Spring so let's get outside and create poetry installations for the unsuspecting public! Photographic evidence please!
May theme: Mobile media - please email/MMS in a film clip or digital image to go with a poem, or film yourself reciting a short poem on your mobile phone - I bet lots of you had new phones for Christmas and are dying to use them! Please note that all films will be shown online so they must be appropriate! And you are giving us your consent to display them online by sending them in to us. If you don't have a suitable phone, sending us a digital image or film from a digital camera and text via email will be fine. Or you could simply scan on a photograph and email that with text if you prefer.
June theme:

Winners: the most recent winners are detailed on the Web News Page

Structured Poems info page

Tell Us! if you are intending to enter the themed contests, or we will not be aware that that is your intention.

Submit by email for the themes via the submit button to the left from September to June and they will appear online, to be judged by the panel at the end of each month.

Journals: have changed to print projects for a first collection for a writer. There will shortly be an e-journal for members in addition to the print projects.

Please let us know if you would like to guest-edit an e-journal.

Journal submissions may be sent to the person guest-editing the e-journals.

Summer Community Magazine came from our writers and new writers from Nigeria and was the past saddle-stitched (stapled) journal..

Summer Journal 05 has been replaced by a special limited edition chapbook The River Swam.

Autumn Publication 05 was Sonnets to Let by Stephen Laskey

Winter Publication 05 was The Blood of Others by John Barclay

Free extra publication 05 was Poems & Profanities by Marcus Smykowski

Spring Publication 06 will be 4 Liners 4 London by Martin Brett - now complete and proofed for text - awaiting cover design to be completed and proofed.

Summer Publication 06 will be The Mansion Gardens by Alan Morrison - text being corrected and cover in design

Autumn Publication 06 is decided and work will commence soon. It will be a bit of a surprise for those of you who have been around the site for a looong time :-)

David Savoury is going to be editing a Journal at some point, when he is feeling better.
Email to submit to David