MAG Poetry Competition 2011 - search for new poems

About 44% of the participants in the 2011 poetry competition wished their poems to remain viewable on the website. Check these out here:

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A Rustic Scene

by Janmejoy Gupta

A babbling brook chides stone chimneys
Smoking into the blue in a rustic scene,
Rain-washed rainbow shades touching
The horizon in blue, red and green;

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Extra-ordinary Girl

by Jasmin Shaw

L is the kerosene that sets the stars alight and eclipses the sun.
She entraps me with her snipsnap wrists and hummingbird fingers.
She swallows lionfish and candyfloss because then at least her insides can be beautiful even if her outsides aren't.

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How to Listen

by Jennifer Wilson

Arrange to meet in a crowded bar;
browse the wine list as she starts to talk.
As the truth starts to come out,
scan the menu for a bite to eat.

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by Jerome Krammes

Cool beats set against a dark arena. I can feel passion and dirt mixed with sweat and tears to exalt everyone who opens their eyes. I could scream ten-thousand times but they would all end up here. The chaos void where I drift to free myself from this world of inferno. In here all of my secrets are safe. I couldn’t hide even if I wanted to, because I’m naked and covered with shards of crystal emanating from the hole that’s torn itself open in the sky. Feathers for my blind side made of white soft light still heavy enough to weigh down a cross. I could say don’t knock, but a knock always comes. Faster than flight…more brilliant than summer. I am engulfed by the wave I used to swim against. I’m home.

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by Jerome Krammes

Where are you my love? Can’t you hear me screaming through these shapes and solid colors that never repeat? The wind across wheat blades making the field seem like an ocean. The bird songs can’t keep up so they dilute into the scenery. Perhaps the breeze means change…but to what? Peace is the sole plateau which we look down from…so what beckons…or shall we dare even ask? The wind may blow but change is not for sure. Maybe this shows there is something more there…something that manifests itself as a relentless being that will show the road to sanctuary once balance is restored. The chirp of a small wren while feeding as though it’s stomach is barren…that is the sound of a fire to go on. Once more like always the crowd grows wearier and night begins. Slumber acts as a healer and as a curse. The more missed the more empty you feel inside. Till the dawn breaks the mist and white caps engorge the blue demon they’ve been threaded through. Whether it is within home, or temporary shelter from the harsh winds I pray you my love…sleep.

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by Jo Thilwind

My son, my child,
so tall and strong when once
I carried you so easily in one arm,
permanently slung on my hip,

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by Joanne Cooper

Wandering around i begin to see shapes that start forming into a clear kaleidoscope
whose melted horizons take form in a strained freedom, shadows of mesh, palms up with parachute colours escaping and wipping around, enchanted,
my sordid consciousness anchored to its mesmerising mystery, the only way out is further in. In, looking with an oblique projection is a matrix of sound qualities that brings the subconciousness to surface,
the maze, i contemplate, a living organism reflecting my dispositions.

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Her breath is gone

by Joanne Rigbye

Quiet sheets settle on the ground
Breaking like lead pellets.

The midnight revolver hangs loose in my hand

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Wallow Beast

by Joe McBride

Wallow beast
slick and musty
take a moment's pause
tomorrow isn't on

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The Bubble

by Joe Worthington

That’s what he needs. Escape
From this bubble he has resided in for the past sixteen years.
His sanctuary of loneliness and desolation

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