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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Caricature

by Lien Cullinane

When I may rise, you may sleepI'll be your eyes, please rest in peace
My day will wander as a prop to those night scenes I replay
the script we followed, the characters we played

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Moments in Time

by Lien Cullinane

Is time just a concept? Age a number? Should we consider the present between now and when we slumber should natural emotion betray the clear thoughts I trust for this beauty I've met once has uncovered a long hidden lust now a tingle unnerves me, unravelled from a dormitory code I count thrice in more years that I've felt such - once bitten - once deceived - and one I messed up Such beauty is simple, a pure complexion untouched Am I naive to frail prevailing opportunities such desired perceptions can cut For now our laughter, a mutually agreeing scene bridges a gap between where we lie I awaken a girl in this women I see You locate maturity in the man he must be As the nights close draws near, we slowly become one, a romantic gesture, a thumb in clasped hands circles another, a gentle kiss that suggests affection as thoughts interweave and stumble across each idea that we utter And then one query to derail all others a barrier we carefully avoided and shuddered 'Is time just a concept? Age a number?' You desire a man with ambition to settle I the other Our hearts do sink for within moments I know I shall not see you again after I blink For in life time defines boundaries within society we keep Is time just a concept?
Age a number?
Should we consider the present between now and when we slumber
should natural emotion betray the clear thoughts I trust

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Spoken too soon

by Lien Cullinane

My hearts rhythm is the beat you bring me to bare The timing skiffles through collective motions our selected channel does air A skip with thought of loss or joy, Flutters to greet, Pounds with love, Melancholic in need, Crashed cymbals of excitement fill a void in me At moments it contracts but not for wrong, Before exploding with instinct, Blood rush courses, A chase is on I run through forests, Briars I pull, Through water I wade and rocks I clear I am both hunter and prey, You are my prize, caught in a tail wind One moment a hawk and then a sparrow, Glorious and vulnerable You could play both shooter or conservationist Shoot me down, or preserve for ever For then and now the drum softens and slows to the chime of second clockbeat You lay in my arms, My grasp, My hue, ….pudum…pudum…pudum it brings life to me, a life I give to you My hearts rhythm is the beat you bring me to bare
The timing skiffles through collective motions our selected channel does air

A skip with thought of loss or joy,

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The Bug-eyed Commemoration Society

by Lindsay Fursland

As the day’s hot, my peepers droop and I dream,
or dream I do... I’m in a wakey wood,
burgeoning trees like buddy, young lungs –
unjadedness – like it’s all to play for.

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Runaway

by Lindsay Fursland

Why I ran away? A circus-shaped
need I suppose…

I was thirteen. I could only

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Valhalla

by Lindsay Fursland

Now the guns and grenades are gobsmacked with victory,
conflict concluded, the combatants sleep…
and only the lifeless lie open-eyed.
Kites eye up those sun-starers, upon whose faces

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Colours that dont exist

by Lisa Gilbert

Orange, Red, Yellow and Blue,
No, These are not the colours of you.

I think of you in colours that dont exist,

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In 3011...

by Lisa Hitchen

Big, fat blobs we’ll be,
limbs surplus with technology.
Just spindly fingers for pressing,
scroll-select or guessing.

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Gathering daylight

by Lisa Hitchen

I gather daylight in the small hours.
Into a bag it goes, in pieces.

Uncertain but clean as ginger

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Port na Ba

by Lucy Alexander

Landscape of lochs
of green trees and heather;
sheep - not in flocks,
ptarmigan's feather;

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