Preston Guild Poem Winner: Proud of Preston by Lorna Smithers

(Congratulations Lorna! Here is the Preston Guild Poem for everyone to enjoy)

Belisama*:

Proud of Preston heed my entry
Hear the voice of ancient memories
Hearts purloined by Roman sentries
Like a river shining bright.

Proud of Preston born free traders

Made by commerce and hard labour
Merchants gilded artists favored
Like the Brigantes warred in tribes.  

Mechanics shift the scene of battle

Raise the red brick smog industrial
Cording hearts like twisting material
On the wheels of the cotton lords.

Step the Chartists to the engines

Pull the plugs release the tension
The rioters face the sentries
Dye the river dark with blood.

Grey arise the business faceless

Fake fulfillment for the faithless
Mass the market for the tasteless
Selling life for capital. 

High in the stone fortress

The sentries hold their rule
Beyond the mall and office
Do you hear a river call?

Proud of Preston I have carved you

In my sweeping spirit formed you
Through your veins floods dazzling water
My Setantii shining bright.

Will you hearken to my entry

Drown false dreams in ancient memories
Will the proud of Preston
Like a shining river rise?

*Belisama is the goddess of the Ribble

Jackie Hayes Poem Winner: Dancers, Avenham by Melissa Lee-Houghton

The couple were dancing, under the pavilion, grotty and not

unscathed.  In dark blue and black three figures lurched and held on
to each other like cannibals.
 
The woman held onto shopping bags, only half full,
and with bleached hair and new trainers she scuffed her shoes
kicking at the ground as though to find water.
 

On a Monday afternoon with the sun petering out

In the jaundice rain that could sink a dinghy
there were worse places to be and these three knew it –

an excursion to Avenham park with its lawns mowed so perfectly

And the little roof over their wet heads,
The sky the colour of the flesh of an apple.

The couple were dancing. Grotty, not unscathed. Black and blue,

three figures holding on like cannibals,
the sun receding.  No music, the company of new scars.

Shopping bags and bleached hair, singed eyelashes,

she scuffed her shoes having not worn heels for a decade,
and a can of coke was cheaper than water.

The sun petering out, in rain that

if you were dying, would be magnificent-
she rocked on her heels, looking out –

perfect lawns and shelter; wringing their hair dry –

they could make their own warmth if they danced,
This sky the colour of the bitten flesh of a ripe apple.

Runners up Poem 4: City of Grace by Mike Ellwood

I

Plungington Road and the bucking bus

Is STOPPING at Adelphi Dentists’. In trackie and trainers,

Nike, plastic-black with white tick and wedges,

She foots the buggy’s break and parks it in the aisle.

One hand, tattooed with the Lamb and Flag,

Extended, grips the metal bar. The packed bus lurches,

But the child is safe: Mum holds hard the pram

To battle with the brake-surge. Stopped, the bus exhales

And bows. She struggles off, having thanked the driver.

II

Under the City Coat of Arms she waits for service.

 Hollow-cheeked, buck-toothed, lank grey hair,

 “It’s about a bus-pass,” she begins, leaning on the counter.

“But you don’t look old enough,” kids the man,

Words that will be repeated to a busy stacker

In the aisle at Aldi, and later to a patient neighbour.

At bed-time she wipes the mirror,

“But you don’t look old enough,” she whispers,

And kisses, in air, a sweet face that was younger.

III

Pale disc of sun through drizzle transforms: slates gleam,

Leaves shine out. It tickles her nose and chin.

With a tissue she clears her spectacles of moisture.

That evening at the Centre there’ll be show-time,

Tambourines, the pretty music teacher

And friends and parents to applaud her.

This is her city, a source of grace, a place of wonder.

Her eyes sometimes dwell on the face of the lamb:

Serene, triumphant; she feels love surround her.

Runners up Poem 3: Remembering 1942 by Dorothy Nelson

My father, like me, was a carpenter,

content with his mouth full of nails.
He made castles and soldiers, a house for our Lizz;
she cried when I filled it with snails
tucked into doll’s beds, with rags under their heads,
the floor stained with silvery trails.

He was proud when he built the beech platform

and a banner to show off at the Guild.

In hazy half-light he’d work into the night.

We’d hear him tap-tapping, the banner flip-flapping.

When the news came the Guild would be cancelled

that year, he silently broke up the stage;
loaded the van and took off, a crazed-man.
He wouldn’t let on, but the beech planks had gone.

He took me one day for a walk in the copse

to a sun-dappled spot he had found,
where a tree-house, majestic, sat high in the branches,
where a rope-ladder dropped to the ground.

He left the next weekend for somewhere abroad.

We’d wait in our look-out for spies,
for parachute drops, or the sound of a plane;
didn’t know then we’d not see him again.

Runners up Poem 2: Score after Score by Tom Hicks

The merchants of Preston are still on a roll
All thanks to King Henry the second.
He recognised vision and purpose and soul,
A future through which glory beckoned;
Believed that that future would virtues define,
Would underpin commerce with values divine,
Keep priest town and Preston linked firmly in line
Which works out today as he reckoned.
 

Saints Walburge and John point heavenwards each spire,

Both markers for faith in the city
Whose history, industry, culture inspire
Its citizens, hardworking, gritty,
We boast about Cromwell who battled nearby.
Of spinning and weaving; remember the cry,
‘Come on Finney!’ Alas, retire, so we sigh,
‘Harry Duckworth please soothe with sweet choir!’
 

Close hugged by the Ribble and beautiful parks

Where Easter eggs roll by the river,
Where concerts and pageants have all made their marks,
Trees backing with shimmy and shiver.
Here we bask in the sunshine, cool in the shade,
Give thanks to our forbears for all they have made,
Thank God for the glorious world there displayed

For joys these dear places deliver.

 

So each twenty years we will let down our hair,

Rejoice with King Henry our donor;
With mixed population together we share
Celebrations – none be a loner.
The Mayor leads the way with a calendar filled
With marvellous goodies which keep us all thrilled,
‘Hooray’ then for Henry; our wonderful Guild,
Bless our city, Proud Preston the fair!

Runners up Poem 1: Street life in Preston by Joan Yates

The sun rose with little enthusiasm,
over the Preston skyline,
tinting the anaemic dawn a rosier hue.
In the late spring of ‘thirty-nine the
threat of war hung in the air, thicker than
the mist that hovered over the River Ribble.

Hooters wailed their melancholy tune,

summoning dockers and factory workers

for the early shift; their clogs clattering

over uneven cobbles, a staccato sound,
gathering momentum, as millworkers
tumbled out of terraced houses, joining the exodus.

Women in metal curlers, resembling alien

invaders, gossiped in a huddle on the corner.
Some, heavily pregnant, wore floral smocks
with coats that didn’t quite meet at the edges.

Boys, wearing ragged breeches and

‘hand me down’ jerseys, played marbles
and fired catapults in a back alley.
A battle scarred tom-cat, nine lives fast
diminishing, dodged their missiles.

Chimneys belched thick smoke into the air

as tubercular scarred lungs coughed up
threads of scarlet, paying, in painful
instalments, the heavy price that the
industrial north demanded from its people.

A child, too small to see over the hood,

pushed a pram, jiggling its noisy occupant.
Born into poverty, they shoulder a precious
burden, their parents’ hopes and dreams.
A fragile link to a better future.

Publications galore!

Quickly first off the new newsletter is available to read here and also the usual place on the right hand side. It includes details about publications from various members of the society. I will quickly list here , as you can read more details in the newsletter!

Terry has had poems published in Orbis, Equinox and The Interpreter's House

Dorothy has recently created a website which you can find here which includes details about her books including the new one

Martin has published a new collection of poetry called Decelerations (published
by Lapwing ISBN 978-1-90727-667-5)

Good to see all these publications and more details can be found in the newsletter!

Getting Published - Part 2

Part 2 of the talk given by Terry Quinn

Pointers about Submitting

Where and how

You can be published in a range of places including: Poetry Magazines/Parish magazines/neighbourhood magazines/emagazines/vanity press ( not just books but anthologies)/competitions/local publishers like Universities e.g. Ceth Anthology/Litfest, Word Soup do an Anthology. (Editor: Poetry magazines website maybe of some use)

Magazines:

Read the style of the magazine/comps/know the name of the editor. I once called the editor of a magazine Pat instead of Patricia and got a stinging letter back.

Length of the poem:

Depends on the magazine but if an editor has 500 poems and has room to print 50 then short is better. There are Magazines dedicated to long poems.

Subject:

A vast majority of submitted poems are about love/death – so they have to be exceptional to catch the eye of an editor.

Country:

The Internet has greatly expanded the market for getting your work published. Web sites like the Poetry Kit will list magazines in countries such as America and Australia.

Do not....

Do not Write an intro telling the Editor that they have the first chance to take these poems

Do not give life story

Do not say your friends and family think the poems are wonderful

Do not write back to editors pointing out their mistakes

Records

Do keep records or a database to keep track of where you have sent poems. You may think you will never forget that acceptance from your favourite magazine. You will. If you’re juggling with anything over 50 poems ( my guess ) then you will mix up dates and where you have sent them. I’ve come across a database called Duotrope , it’s available from the internet. I use Access to keep mine up to date. (Editor: of course there is also Open Office available which is free)

Presentation

Presentation of your poems is of major importance, and it is advised that you spend some time doing this. The following points, although not true for every magazine, are intended as general guidelines you should check before submitting your work:

• Make sure that your poems are typewritten on a separate sheet and that they look clean and presentable

• Do not send more than six poems unless the publication asks you to do this

• Include a short and polite covering letter to the editor

• Always be sure to send a stamped addressed envelope with your poems, for the editor/s to make their reply

• Always keep your own copies of poems in case the ones you send go missing

• It is usual to have to wait for a period of time to get a response.
Depending on the magazine, the Editor/s may be inundated with submissions and need time to get through this

• It is unlikely that you will be paid in money for having your poems published, but it is usual to at least receive a free copy of the magazine. It is not usual to have to pay yourself to have your work published

• Do not use Jazzy fonts

• Do not indiscriminately centre-justifie poems

• Do not send simultaneous entries

• Check restrictions on line length

• Check whether your name needs to be on each sheet

• Email – check whether the poem needs to be in the body of the email or as an attachment

Part 3 next week about specific poetry magazines

Getting Published - Part 1

At the start of the year Terry Quinn gave a talk about Getting Published at one of the Poetry Society meetings. He has kindly sent me a copy so I can put it on the blog along with links etc, and so it will appear here over the next few weeks.

Introduction

In the Preston Arts Festival 2010 Alan Dent gave a publisher’s view of receiving submissions for publication. These notes are written from the viewpoint of the poet thinking of submitting work.

1). Read contemporary poetry – it’s no good submitting rhyming poetry about flowers in the park to an experimental poetry magazine.

2). Buy poetry magazines or get your library to subscribe or get an idea of the content from the internet.

3). Read magazines like Writing Magazine

4). The National Poetry Library ( Morpeth and National on the South Bank, Scottish in Edinburgh and Welsh in Aberystwyth ) are interesting to visit and are in wonderful places. (Note by Editor :Also poetryireland maybe of interest for ROI and NI)


The Bad News

Acceptance to rejection of 1 in 10 is a good ratio

The Good News is that there are hundreds of ways to get published – it just depends what you want.

So what do you want from being Published?
Tim Love writes ( check his website it’s very good ):

Money - Unless you regularly write articles, you won't get much, but it's nice to get paid for something you enjoy doing (especially if you get paid £20 for a haiku). I still treasure the £1 cheque I once got from the BBC.

• Fame - It's easy to be a big fish in the little pool of poetry or short stories

• Participation - Ever read something and thought "I could have done that"? Going from being a reader to a writer is a big leap, one you've already made. The next step is to become part of the writing community. It's a big step, like progressing from taking music lessons to becoming a public "performer". By going to workshops and sharing your work you're already well on the way to being a public performer. Now it's time to take the next step and get published.

• Improving your writing - Even if you're just writing for your own enjoyment, getting published can help. Writing without publishing is a bit like talking to yourself.

o Angela Carter thought the writing process incomplete until the piece was published.

o Poet Don Paterson wrote that "the poem begins with inspiration and ends in publication, not just completion"

o Jane Holland (poet and editor) wrote in April 2008 that "people learn most about writing poetry from actually seeing their work in print. ... Contrary to popular belief, new writers don't learn as much from sitting in workshops ... To see a new poem in print is the best way to learn, because you are far more likely to spot your mistakes once a poem is set against others in a public context, and suddenly realise how to fix them"

• Because if you don't, others worse than you will!

(You can continune reading Tim's article here)

To Tim nowadays publication is an integral part of the writing process. The only unpublishable pieces are those that aren't good enough - though some are harder to publish than others

Define for whom you are writing.

Is it your religion?
For people at work?
Family?
The World?

(editor: An important thought. As stated at the start of this article "it’s no good /em> submitting rhyming poetry about flowers in the park to an experimental poetry magazine").


So here feels a good place to end Part 1. A breather so you can think about why you would want to be published and who for. Part 2 (next week) continues with pointers about submitting

Estonia #20

A Poet's dream is impossible
the dream
the ultimate task

to describe something
so perfectly
precise

but yet never achieving

it's like writing about
the snow
every word
every letter
is a step away from that blank page across
the landscape

by ian (train from Rakke)

photo by Ian in Tartu Toomemägi 2010

Finland #16

I struggled through
the deep snow
with more following fast

i struggled through
the bitter cold and
with more following fast

I struggled through
hunger and tiredenss
with more following fast

eventually arrived at Walhalla
and what's this to say about my journey
it was closed!

poem and photo by Ian

Many a Bright Star

Another one of our Poets, Paul Wilkins, has produced a book of his poems: "Many a Bright Star". This is a collection of his poems that include poems that he has written for special occasions. I will let Paul explain more:
"Hi to all you great poetry book readers; here is a book with a difference – profile poems of famous people. I started doing poems of famous people and have kept an eye out for any special occasion these people have had to mark with a special profile-like poem and have done many over the years. I have sent each of them a copy of what I did for them and all who replied expressed pleasure at what they read. Enjoy reading the large selection in this book."

For more details you can find his website here, some of the replies he has had here and the link to the book here

Preston Poets Calendar 2011

The Society has created a lovely appointment style calendar for 2011. It contains gorgeous photos from blankets of snow to deer and lovely countryside. Every photo is accompanied with a couple of lines of poetry, all created by the Society members.

It is a calendar that I am sure that can be enjoyed by all!


For only £3.

It can be bought at the Preston Tourist Information Centre and at the Harris Museum. Otherwise please ask a Society Member or email vsmith@pagehall.idps.co.uk .

Iceland #16

like saving an ice cube
in the sun

youth and beauty
may melt away

but the important part remains
like the life giving water

photo and poem by Ian

*Star Haiku*

If you concentrate
the dark sky will show Venus
and two shiny stars

by Ian F
written in a tent in Iceland

Estonia Poetry revisit

Just to follow on from Ian's speech on Estonian poet Gustav Suits here is a small article on the poem on the Independance Monument in Tallinn.


The Poem on Eesti Vabadussammas
The poem in full can be found here ,but only...

The first part of the poem on the monument :

Tõsta lipp! Las aja käänul
lehvib tõotus tuulte väänul
üle mandri, üle vee:
tund on tulnud vannet vandu,
ei iial enam andu
ikke alla rahvas see!

quite untranslatable
word by word.

the main idea
that this (see)
nation (rahvas)
will vow
(in the poem 'tund (the hour)
on tulnud (has come)
vannet (the oath in 3rd form)
vandu (to vow)')
never (iial)
to be occupied
by anyone
any more
('andu ikke alla'
- really old
and poetic
way to say
'not be occupied').


Thank you to Katrin for this and her blog and more poems and such like can be found here

Why am I here?

Why am I here
they keep asking me
and I have asked myself
so many times

And I have asked myself
in many places
looking in each corner for the truth
but if there was any it had seemingly gone


I once tried looking in Valhalla
but it was snowed up
and it was definately closed
what can that tell me about life?


Another time viewing beauty
in all the scenic landscapes
but the loveliness soon escaped me
fading like a dreamlike memory


And yet again trying to find "the zone" in cities
with the bustling busy backstreets
which are full of tourist facts and figures
the only meaning told through friendly faces

I thought maybe I was here to spend all my money
I tried that once
buying ice lollipops in the snow
but still hang onto 5 EEKs in my wallet

Maybe I am here to keep a promise
Something that would hold me duty bound
but even a this has no meaning
without a currency behind it

Finally it occured it was a subconcious thought
the mallard duck's wing flashing
its colours of here and now
but surely one would be foolish chasing birds?

So why am i here?

A friend asks just before I leave
If I had done everything I wanted
and Yes.

I saw you again.

by Ian (mallard in helsinki)

The Poets Laurete

Twenty poets have held the post of Laureate
Since John Dryden was the first to have the honour
Bestowed way back in sixteen sixty eight
Thomas Shadwell came next, a political choice
Chosen to give the Protestants a voice.
Not much of a thought provoker
His work was mainly mediocre.
(not helped by the fact he was a prolific opium smoker)
Tate was next, he was fairly bright
Remembered mainly for his carol about ‘Shepherds watching
their flocks by night’.
With the arrival of Nicholas Rowe the post changed somehow
Less political now was the aim
More to raise the profile of the ruling sovereign
Laurence Eusden and Colly Cibber did the minimum required
At best it was said their work was uninspired
Whitehead, Wharton and Henry James Pye each graced the office
But sadly to say didn’t live up to their promise.
Robert Southey stepped in when Sir Walter Scott declined
And for thirty years did the job he was assigned
William Wordsworth the oldest accepted under duress
After all, at 73 he could do without the stress
Alfred Lord Tennyson, well what can you say,
His biggest success we still quote from today.
Hugely popular a great impact was made
Remember from school ‘The Charge of the Light Brigade’
To Austin and Bridges we don’t give much thought
Nothing of significance to say or report.
John Masefield, now here’s an achiever
Mostly renowned for his popular ‘Sea Fever’
Cecil Day Lewis embraced the post and was quite enthusiastic
His works tended towards the melancholy or romantic.
Sir John Betjeman, accessible and humorous
His ‘Bombs on Slough’ appealed to the masses.
Ted Hughes, Yorkshire born, brooding, introspective
Often misunderstood, but generally respected.
Andrew Motion, first Poet Laureate to retire or be retired,
(not counting John Dryden who was fired)
Brought a breath of fresh air to a post he was unsure of at first
Forward thinking, promoted poetry among the young, tried to create a thirst.
Carol Ann Duffy, the first woman Poet Laureate in history, takes up the post
for ten years.
She’s claiming her sherry, so it’s bottoms up, cheers.
So folks, a new face – watch this space.
Joan Yates

Prince Charles Is Now 60

Prince Charles has been around for a while
Bringing to many people in this country a smile
It’s his 60th birthday today
At which we all say hip hip hurray
He’s going to have an influence on the future of Britain forever
Continually bringing people together
He with the Princes Trust awards came out
Helping change young people’s lives no doubt
Also giving a lot of business and charity support
Showing to many a nice kind thought
He’s going to have an influence on the future of Britain forever
Continually bringing people together
Prince Charles loves time at the Highgrove home
Where he does farming, with others or on his own
He’s interested in Architecture too
As are also quite a few
He’s going to have an influence on the future of Britain forever
Continually bringing people together
From all of Prince Charles we have seen
He’s fully worthy of successing the Queen
But not knowing what the future has to tell
We’re still sure for him everything will go well
He’s going to have an influence on the future of Britain forever
Continually bringing people together
Paul Wilkins

Nobody Inn

McDade Trophy First Place
I’m losing track of the times you’ve been
to study the Perpendicular screen
at quaint little Dunchidoke.
So I followed you down, as I’d secretly planned,
and now I’m beginning to understand,
for here you sit with the country folk
at the Nobody Inn, and I hope you choke
on your Winterman slims and your peppermint crush;
no wonder you fidget, no wonder you blush,
and shuffle about on your bar-stool perch,
for you never went anywhere near the church
at quaint little Dunchidoke.
And unless I’m mistaken, the tower I saw
when I glanced just now through the open door,
is elegant Doddiscombsleigh.
Famed for its fourteenth century glass,
which you’ll hardly match and you can’t surpass
in a British church, you keep telling me,
to excuse your visits, but now I see
that to learn its mystery your only hope
is a seat by the door and a telescope
on elegant Doddiscombsleigh.
Your subterfuge was a tour de force,
so I’m not in the least annoyed of course,
but in future, I’m coming too.
From humble churches we’ll shift our sights
to collegiate, cathedral and abbey heights,
but chosen to be, as your favourites are,
at their most impressive when viewed from afar,
or merely imagined, like Dunchidoke,
(assisted, it seems, by Bacardi and coke,
pommes frites in the basket and café noir,
with yellow Chartreuse and cigars from the bar.)
But I think that a four star (or five) accolade
would more properly fit with the status and grade
of cathedrals and abbeys, I know quite a few
with a splendid cuisine and an excellent view.
You’re flushed with excitement already, I see,
let’s map out tomorrow’s itinerary,
and I’ll show you what I can do.
7
Exeter – what better place to start,
splendidly Dec in its greater part,
as I think your Pevsner says.
We’ll start at two, for conveniently,
the Clarence Hotel does an afternoon tea
which lasts all day till aperitif time,
when we’ll sit in the bar with a gin and lime
and study the close with a reverent gaze,
admiring the Tudor and Georgian bays,
the iron bridge and the cobbled court,
unaltered in any material sort
since early Victorian days.
We’ll stay for dinner and when that’s done,
with coffee and cognac we’ll watch the sun
dipping below the trees,
and silhouetting the Norman towers –
we’ll order more cognac and sit for hours.
In plush red velvet we’ll take our ease
overlooking the close for as long as we please.
And perhaps we’ll book a room and stay,
and with morning tea at the break of day,
we’ll lie in bed with the curtain raised …
Are you feeling well? Your eyes have glazed,
and your colour has passed through red and green
and finished a sort of ultramarine –
of the kind you find on twenty pound notes.
Better pay the bill while I fetch our coats,
and we’ll get away from the fumes and smoke
and take a stroll down to Dunchidoke.
A hazy sun and a healthy breeze
will clear your head, but one moment please –
I think I could manage before we go,
a gin and Italian, Blackforest gateau,
and a little more Camembert cheese.
Vincent Smith