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2008 SEGORA POETRY COMPETITION

 

THE WINNING POEMS

Click to see: First Prize; Second Prize; Third Prize; Judge's Comments

 

First Prize

 

Mike’s Word for the Day

 

Christopher North

 

The first one I remember was ‘stipendiary’ –

in flooded roast beef, the puddings of Pudding Lane,

hurled pies and for some reason

the rhythm of a bicycle pump filling a tyre.

 

The next day ‘pip’ led to “For God’s sake get a grip Pippa!”

shouted across a cold morning lake – a brown lake

with various dark, litter filled side ponds

and a terrier yapping frantically on the bank.

 

Then came ‘moist’: delivered after considerable hesitation.

Uncertainty was unusual. On Monday he was absent:

a vacant chair, drawers emptied, desk top cleared –

all we were left with was Friday’s ‘moist’.

 

As the week crawled on we tried ‘crumpling’,

‘crunch’ and, the last I remember, ‘vulpine’

but the magic was gone. Another took his chair.

Sucked boiled sweets. Spoke with a lisp.

 

Christopher North’s first collection ‘A Mesh of Wires’ was short-listed for the Forward Prize in 1999. He co-founded then chaired the Metroland poets for their first 100 meetings. He and his wife Marisa are now resident in Spain where they run courses and retreats at their writing and arts centre, the Almassera Vella, in the mountains north of Alicante (www.oldolivepress.com). He is currently engaged in writing a monograph on the Poet’s Notebook.

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Second Prize

 

A Welsh Man Singing Alone in Town

 

Leah Armstead

  

Is he crazy?

Even in the Land of Song

no one sings like this.

 

There’s a time for it.

 

A pack of young drunks

might bellow a tune,

chantlike, late at night

after drinking is done.

 

And you can sing

sometimes in groups –

at a sports match, rave,

church, in choir.

We sing in public

when others do,

when it’s the thing

to do.

 

Sure, sing in the shower,

or in cars,

or in the privacy

of your own home.

 

But this man is singing

in broad daylight

as he walks alone in town

and we’re shopping.

 

We stare – or ignore him

pointedly.

Anything could happen.

He could have a gun.

 

A man is walking in a crowd singing.

A man is singing in public. Alone.

A man is singing.

 

Leah Armstead lives in mid-Wales surrounded by sea and hills. She has been a medievalist and a mental health advocate.  Recently she has taken up poetry writing again and has had several poems printed in magazines such as Obsessive Pipework and Purple Patch. Also, she won 1st Prize, Northampton Literature Competition 2008; 3rd Prize, Earlyworks Poetry Competition 2007, and commendations in several contests in the past two years.

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 Third Prize

 

Charlotte Place

 

Duncan Fraser

 

Cognitive dissonance

is the most unsettling thing.

People won’t stay in their pigeonholes.

 

My wife and I had to split up

when we realized we were both parasites

who had mistaken the other for a host.

 

The banks used to think

I was a person

who would repay their loans.

 

I take Amitryptyline tablets.

They don’t cure my depression

but they illuminate its subtext.

 

In this society, illegal drugs surround you.

Authority figures say they’re bad.

Your peers say they’re good.

 

But I don’t have the fashionable taste for the illicit.

I get no pleasure from driving while disqualified

or from committing sodomy in Tajikistan.

 

People in online forums dislike me

despite my being more open with them

than I am with my friends.

 

In my next life I want to be

a big wave surfer.

It’s less dangerous in the ocean.

 

I had a manager once

who always claimed to be approachable.

But he wasn’t.

 

T.W. Adorno said that after Auschwitz

poems can no longer be written.

There is something in that.

 

Duncan Fraser was born in Inverness in 1954. He graduated from Stirling University with an honours degree in Religious Studies. He is a Customer Service Adviser in Perth. His poems have appeared in various anthologies and magazines including First Time, Pulsar, and Other Poetry. In 2006 he won the Colloquy Bonhoeffer Centenary Poetry Competition. He likes to play with philosophy, modish ideas and aims to take the reader on an exhilarating ride. 

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 Judge's comments by Gordon Simms

The Second Segora Open Poetry Competition attracted entries from six countries representing a range of taste and style – and, of course, subject. I was variously intrigued, amused and moved by a good number of them and, ultimately from the group of poems vying for the top places, there were some that managed to evoke all those responses. Additionally, in their styles and different uses of language and tone, they all demonstrated that poetry is very much a medium through which we may reflect on our times. By coincidence all three poems are concerned with the theme of communication.


Mike’s Word for the Day by Christopher North is a deceptively simple poem which ultimately became my clear favourite. It contains several intermingling strands to leave the impression of a very full experience.

It conveys a fond affection for a tutor who was inspirational, giving intriguing glimpses of the creativity he engendered. We are given enticing snippets that were part of the results of the process he encouraged (we eagerly await the full story of Pippa). Then is the profound sense of abandonment by the mentor, followed by the futility of trying to continue in the same manner without him, and finally the dissatisfaction with his replacement.

The last three short sentences, two lacking a subject, are testament to the substitute’s incompetence, at the same time echoing the brief phrases which describe the desk after Mike’s departure. They contrast with the more rhythmic and colourful language of the first two stanzas.

None of these elements are fully explored, the poet allowing the reader space for his/her own creativity. Mike’s crisis is hinted at, just as the imagery of the written exercises, surreal or otherwise, is used to spark the imagination.

The poem may also be viewed as a comment on dumbing-down in the educative system – but this poem already has me speculating sufficiently without taking on that issue.

I found Welsh Man Singing Alone in Town a delightful poem. The writer creates a sense of shock in response to what, in another society, might be a perfectly normal occurrence. Her short lines in themselves convey this reaction, almost as if one is unable to quite catch one’s breath. There’s a sense of indignation at the invasion of one’s comfort zone, while the lists attempt to justify having been affronted, to present oneself as a reasonable person. I mean, there are limits . . . We’re shopping, for heaven’s sake; we don’t expect an outrage like this.

The language of everyday speech, sometimes a drawback, is here an affirmation of normalcy. The man singing, seen as bizarre, himself provokes a bizarre reaction. He could be a madman. He could be dangerous. Thus the poem reflects our alienation, our fearful suspicions, our paranoia; yet Leah Armstead manages this with humour, our response being perhaps far less sympathetic than the act which occasioned it.

We are left with repetition, used effectively, as if in an attempt to convince ourselves that this is not only taking place, but that it is the most unnatural event imaginable. Or, conversely, it allows the possibility of a sea-change: the poem’s ending could seem a celebratory peal of bells in admiration of such spontaneity.

Charlotte Place contains enough black humour for a lifetime – enough disaster, too. Unpredictable swings in subject, changes of tense, variation of long and short lines and of flowing and brief sentences: all these elements are admirably used to elucidate the erratic ruminations of our dysfunctional subject, who continually meets with conflicting, and therefore confusing, interpretations of the world around him and of the effect he has on others. At the heart of this malaise (possibly both symptom and cause) is the inability to hold a conversation.

Duncan Fraser’s direct, at times sparse, writing draws us in to a disturbed world which, whilst bleak, is also amusing in its self-deprecation.

Adorno also observed that when concepts fail us, art comes to our rescue. Perhaps, having tried poetry, our anti-hero should take up singing in shopping centres . . .

Highly Commended:

Eurostar by Christopher North.

I would like to mention in particular:

Near Penryncoch and The Quick and the Dead, both by Leah Armstead, Blackthorns by Roger Elkin, Libretto by Charles Evans, The Music Room by Richard Hassell, and The Knife by Christopher North.

My thanks to all the poets who entered, making this competition most absorbing. I wish them success and satisfaction from their writing. Finally I would like to express my indebtedness to Jocelyne, who once again ensured the competition’s smooth administration


In 2010 we hope to publish an anthology of poems and stories from both Segora competitions. Meanwhile the deadline for the Second Segora Short Story Competition is 29th May, 2009.

Gordon Simms

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