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Martha Robinson Poetry Competition 2009

The Martha Robinson Poetry Competition 2009.

In addition to the
winners of the poetry competition, the following four poems were awarded commendations by our judges:


By D. Mackenzie

Lay the yoke across my shoulders,
Tie the reins into the plough,
I am the beast of burden,
I am oxen I am cow,
Sign my section papers,
Take me to the ward,
Claim you care for me,
Whilst you put me to the sword,
If I am the one, this process is for,
Then why do I feel such grief,
Why do I have this hatred,
And total lack of belief.

Set me to the furrow,
To work the field for you,
You guide and steer, with no fear,
That the work will turn out true,
I sit and feel helpless,
I cannot stand the stress,
Every moment takes a lifetime,
Which I accept under duress,
If I am the one this process is for,
Why does it feel so wrong,
Why do I have this hatred,
That has been here for so long.

Now my work is over,
A new beast takes my role,
I am put out to pasture,
I am discarded because I am old,
I’m constantly told I’m different,
That I am not the same,
Then I’m forced to change to their ways,
Forced to play the game,
Well, I may be different,
I accept that this is true,
But why must I change?
Why can’t it, be you?


The Daisy Chain
By J. Braddock

The sun shone down through leafy boughs painting patterns on the ground.
The sky had never been so blue and overhead a skylark flew
It’s song the only sound,
Red poppies grew in fields of corn, soft petaled heads they shook.
And golden yellow buttercups grew besides the little brook.
We laughed as we walked hand in hand along the dusty lane.
And in my hair you had entwined a snow white daisy chain.
We stood upon the little bridge, how happy we were then.
Oh! How I wish that sun lit day could come back once again.
I sometimes walk there all alone but I know that you are near.
For I seem to hear you softly say “I’m glad that you are here”.
I see your face, I hear you laugh as you carve our names upon the tree.
And I recall each sweet nothing that you whispered to me.
I loved you then and I love you still as I did on that day gone by
When we listened to the skylark’s song as it hovered in the sky.
Through death has taken you from me, the memories remain
As I drop into the little brook a snow white daisy chain.


Boy Growing up in the 1950’s
By Terry Simpson.

Those grainy films of steel-grey boats on grey , steel seas,
Imminent danger underscored by an unseen array,
Of cellos and querulous violins,
A sudden violent air attack.
Or camaraderie in ruined Europe,
Honour and bravery trumping treachery,
The pale, fierce democrats winning out.
These fading battles coloured all his game,
And always he was hiding,
Waiting to be ripped apart by gun-fire,
Running frantic over open ground,
Fearing the indifference of the unknown,
The capture, the brutal death of friends.
And the fear went on when the games had ended.


The Firebird
By J. Ratcliffe

Diamond mood, exaltation like a
Sparkling fountain Days of bliss mixed with emotional tumult
And a sadness that conquers pain
There heart’s frenzy is now still.

Pain, birds of fire, flies at a distance
The waters of solitude are lit by
Inner flames
And gentle ripples disturb the
Majestic water


More about Martha Robinson here.
Also see this year's winners