Results of June Poetry Competiton

JUDGE'S REPORT

The vast majority of the 237 poems entered interpreted the subject of FAIR as JUST and wrote of injustice. Fittingly therefore, most poems were in free verse since injustice is about inequality, the random or deliberate meting out of favours or privileges by luck or corrupt law being irregular. There were a very few organised forms, mostly rhyming quatrains, and there was one villanelle.

The winning poem, Are the Young Fair? by Sylvia Telfer, takes the surely universal theme of the cruelty of children in appropriate free verse. The later regret is lightly handled in the final couplet with the pathetic image of his empty desk. I did not like the title actually, thinking it too explicit. I think perhaps When We Were Young would have matched the poem’s sensitive lightness of touch. Apart from the truly inspired word ‘flint’, the language of this poem is the simple language of children.

By contrast, the language of the runner-up, Fair Is the Measure by Anthony Greenman, is more adult and I particularly liked ‘skewed’. The use of rhyming couplets presses the point with the rhymes impressing like nails hammered home. The poem explores a multiplicity of occasions where fairness is called for and this makes for a simple but excellent poem.

Though the poems are a delight to read, I ask please that competitors do not ask me for feedback on their poems. The sheer volume of work makes this impossible.

Dorothy Pope

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Are the Young Fair by Sylvia Telfer

I remember a boy. He goes way back.

‘Jungle Crow’ we called him: black slick

of hair, almost ‘spick’ in the brown eyes,

the hint of moustache so early.

𝘑𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘊𝘳𝘰𝘸! 𝘑𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘊𝘳𝘰𝘸!

𝘎𝘰 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵

𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵!

Oh, so witty and our homes were airy,

‘accepted’. He was from a slum: flint

of a dad always smashed, the odd bash

to Crow’s skull, and a mum who stole

his paper-round cash. We didn’t care.

Jungle Crow didn’t deserve fuss.

𝘉𝘺-𝘣𝘺𝘦 𝘑𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘊𝘳𝘰𝘸, 𝘣𝘺𝘦-𝘣𝘺𝘦!

𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘩, 𝘨𝘰 𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘧𝘭𝘺!

was our farewell when GCSEs nigh.

‘𝘏𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬’. ‘𝘎𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘢𝘳’.

Funny how we always kept his desk,

hoping he’d come back, survived.

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Fair Is the Measure by Anthony Greenman

Fair is the wind that knows no side,
It sweeps the moor both far and wide.
Fair is the sky, when storm is done,
A hush that follows setting sun.

Fair is the deal struck hand to hand,
Not skewed by gold, nor rank, nor land.
Fair is the child who dares to share
What little joy they’ve breath to spare.

Fair is the bloom that does not stay,
A petal bright, then blown away.
Fair is the fight when all are heard,
Each voice a weight, each truth a word.

Fair is the law when it is blind,
And yet can see with kinder mind.
Fair is the game, with rules upheld,
Where skill is shown, not stealth compelled.

Fair is the day not bought nor sold—
The dawn not marred by blood or gold.
And fair the soul that walks upright,
Though none may cheer, and none may write.

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