Results of June 2026 Poetry Competition

The judge of our quarterly poetry competition is Dorothy Pope, the Society’s Poet in Residence, who also sets the theme for each competition.

Judge’s Report on the June 2026 Poetry Competition themed ‘Statue(s)’

The theme of Statue(s) was variously interpreted as a snowman, a man keeping perfectly still or children doing so in the game of statues, stone, clay and wooden statues, statues hated, destroyed, cherished, prayed to, and Ozymandias which featured twice.

A disappointing entry in terms of quality this time. There were just two which were clearly better than the rest. Praise therefore goes to ‘Passer’ by Terry Jones and ‘Company’ by Sebastian Marziano.

In ‘Passer’, ‘Statue’ is interpreted as self standing still so as not to disturb a house sparrow (Passer domesticus) while it drinks and bathes at his birdbath. I question the American spelling of ‘grey’. Also, the slang phrase “come clean” jars with me and diminishes the poem’s grandeur. I liked “baptismal”, especially as it was preceded by “ritual” and “prayerful”. The poem finds an echo in every reader’s experience, I imagine.

‘Company’ by Sebastian Marziano would have been an English sonnet had line 6 not lacked an iamb. Why? I particularly liked lines 3 and 11 and 12. I saw the snowman, rebuilt annually, not just as a companion but also proof of man’s repeated trying again after setbacks.

Please note that because of the sheer volume of work, I am unable to provide feedback other than on the two winners.

Dorothy Pope

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Passer winner

That sparrow who visits the bird-bath —
however irregular his intervals,
his methods have a ritual consistency:
a prayerful bow into the stone bowl,

replenished more by us than by the rain;
watch his quick swigs and the baptismal finish;
he is, between sips, his own security
detail, eyes everywhere, till with no tell

he is gone, flicked away; but let me
come clean. It may not be the same bird
each time, but his doppelgangers

who fail to spot me, as I pause myself,
assume a gesture of permanence, hold it
in a stone figure, lined, weathered and gray.

Terry Jones

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Company runner-up

I built him from the weather I was in,
I rolled the heavy cold that wouldn't melt,
and pressed the whole white silence into skin,
a man the size of everything I'd felt.

I wound my own scarf twice around his throat
and turned him to the window square,
then buttoned him inside my outgrown coat
and went back in to lamplight, fire, and chair.

It wasn't spring that took him in the end.
The mild days came. The hard ground gave. He sagged
and all I'd built to stand for me now thinned
to sodden wool, spent coal, a heap of rag.

And still, each year, the cold comes back around,
my hands begin to build him from the ground.

Sebastian Marziano

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The next poetry competition will be announced here and on the Society's social media platforms on 1 September 2026.