March Poetry Competition
ππππππ πππππππππππ - πππ Β£ππ-Β£πππ
We are delighted to announce our next poetry-writing competition to be judged by our Poet in Residence Dorothy Pope. The competition is open to all and entry is free. Each entrant may submit two poems not previously published or currently submitted for publication elsewhere. Please keep copies as those submitted will not be returned.
The theme of the competition is 'Music'. Poems should reach Dorothy Pope by 15 March 2026, by post to 10 Runnelfield, Harrow on the Hill, Middx HA1 3NY, or by email to
dorothy.pope@hotmail.com
Results will be announced on 6 April 2026. Poems sent by post should each be typed on a separate sheet with contact details on the reverse. Each emailed poem must be in Word or similar format (no PDFs, please) and must be sent separately with contact details well separated from the poem. Every poem must be headed 'Kingβs English Society Poetry Competition' and must be a maximum of 20 lines in the authorβs choice of form.
The author of the winning poem will receive Β£100 and the runner-up will receive Β£50. Both poems will be published on the Kingβs English Society website and social media platforms, and in the next issue of the Society's quarterly magazine Quest.
Though she finds the poems a delight to read, please note that due to the sheer volume of work Dorothy Pope is unable to provide feedback other than on the two winners.
Dorothy Pope is the author of three books, The Fourth Man, The Summerhouse Poems and A Mile of Kite String. A retired English teacher, she started writing poems at the age of 53 and has since had 530 poems published, about 20 of them prize-winning including several firsts, notably the Poetry Societyβs Hamish Canham award. She is Chair of Herga Poets.
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For inspiration, a poem below by Dorothy Pope:
Boy Musician
It is a joy and mystery
to me just how a boy can be
so talented at what he plays
but unaware in other ways.
Take Rory.
With instrument like upturned sheep,
he skilfully contrives to keep
control and masters, makes his own,
the bagpipes, fingered, squeezed and blown.
He makes the most impressive din
and smiles the most engaging grin
beneath such hair! Β Oh Lord! His hair!
With just what does his hair compare?
Burst mattress? Β Or at very best
last yearβs abandoned heronβs nest?
A forest after Force Ten gale?
The shop floor after Harrodβs sale
or litter at a football match?
Apprenticeβs first go at thatch?
A wilderness, an untamed glory -
beneath which blooms blithe, thriving Rory.
.