Week 41 – entries and results

Monday, 16 February 2015

Photograph by Eleanor Bennett

Week 41 Eleanor Bennett

Voting is now complete and you can read all the short-listed poems (10 from a submission of 26) with their creators’ names added. The winning poem is Poem 9 – Renovation by Sam Payne. Congratulations to Sam, a new name I think to the challenge.

 Poem 1


Grandma’s Allotment

I stand on the allotment

Looking at the shed.

The paint around the window

Peels back to show the red.

The stripe around the door frame

Is peppermint and white.

My grandma likes a mixture

Of colours, nice and bright.


She spent a happy hour of two

Planting peas and beans

Heaping up potatoes,

Picking winter greens.

In winter smoke would circle

Like a halo overhead

As grandma raked and tilled

Till all the weeds were dead.


The flowers were her pride and joy,

The roses, peonies too,

She’d cut and bring them in the house

For Gamps to have a view.

She’s dead now,

Dear old grandma

And now the shed is mine.

What colours shall I paint it?

Shall I grow a vine?

No, I’ll grow another peony

Some mint and feverfew

And keep her memory living

With another rose or two.


Rachel Thompson


Poem 2



too close to the light

she floated wanting so much

so much too soon


Diane Jackman


Poem 3

The Fall

Autumn heralds the end
Mission accomplished
Their short life over
Buffeted by the breeze
Somersaulting they twirl
To a final resting place
Decided by fate
Even as they die
Vibrant colours remain
Their final gift to the world


Carol Mills


Poem 4

All Too Short

Georgie boy is first with a toy
champagne glass glitters
golden liquid waterfalls
over rich fingers.

Thin lad who taunted terraces
hypnotised the thousands
held the Stretford End
on puppet master threads.

Hips swayed, left, right
minimum effort, maximum effect
Irish wit, snake charmer
Bobbie and Jackie watch on.

New society girl giggles at the drunk
she will sleep with you but not keep with you
coma deepens, charm fades…






Andrew Scotson


Poem 5



In the ice puddle

is a clear, shabby lunchbox

with endorsed cracks too.


Johanna Boal


Poem 6

Why try to make sense of it

dissect, measure, cut it to size

to fit the box you’ve chosen.


Some things are what they are

complete in incompleteness

all they ask is to be seen


a blue-green mystery

a silent shout

‘see me for what I am’


Jenna Plewes


Poem 7



a conversation


do you see

only the darkness.?


the blackness growing,

reaching into corners,

searching for the unaware you,

spreading, insidious, a power, a weight,

over powering,

weighing down?


you must search for the light,

put the colour back in,

choose to find

the other half of the picture, the part

where you can breathe again.

search, search,


I can help you,

I have been there.

write the words,

share the pain, acknowledge

the bleak blackness

the paper will wait,


it is there for you now

when you are ready.


Angie Butler


Poem 8


Beauty in abstract
Like love’s deepest mysteries
Beyond description

Martin John


Poem 9



My father lent us

the deposit and from yours

we got paint brushes and the

words, it’ll take more than

just paper over those cracks.

Paint was heated, melted and

peeled away, layer by layer, we

scraped and stripped but for every

crack we found and filled,

tiny fault-lines began to appear

within the foundations of us.

I grew tired of the paint scraps

in my hair, you grew tired of the way

the dust settled everywhere like a thin layer

of discontent and sometimes

I’d see you nodding your head like you were

agreeing with someone I couldn’t hear.


Sam Payne


Poem 10

Path through Quest


Forlorn hope left me too,

I lay still in a dark abyss of dejection,

Realisation ceased to dawn.

Time rushed, when a beam of light smilingly flickered, signing me to crawl up, troubling thoughts stood silent.

I climbed,to reach a peak,

Lanterns of choices in diffusion gave me calls, I wore a smile on my naked lips, grabbed the tiny choice, to start to end it big, to live again.


Denim Deka