Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2010


by Owen Lowery

A sharp day, thin-blooded, bright lipped,  
and with the line melting towards the rear,  
sharing spit and whisky from a hip-flask.   

A woman, young and pretty, smiles 
beneath the cover of her legion poppy, 
a scarlet beret at a saucy angle.  

She bounces on the spot, claps along to
the marching bands, a whistled tune
learnt young with playground words.  

Her coat’s perfect, smart and black,
edged or lined with plush fur,
the muffling in a pair of matched gloves.  

An immaculate fringe in bronze
and brown peeps from the petal of her brim,
catches drizzle and pale sun,  

and when the bells and the silence come
trembles a snow of poppy-dust.    

Added: 29.11.2009

Judges' comments on this poem


The descriptiveness of this poem is the most powerful part. I could see all, sense all and smell all.


Wonderfully written