So if you’re also a poet…
May 3, 2016
No poem today, but I thought I’d share information about some great poetry prizes.
Firstly, the Australian Catholic University has a competition on the theme ‘Loving Kindness’. When I first heard the theme, I was less than rapt, but the more I thought about it, the more a poem wriggled out from between the words, until it demanded to be penned in the seedy corral of a poem. This contest is open to Australian citizens, permanent residents, and overseas students studying in Australia. Here is the link. Closes early June. There is a nice, really well catered, ceremony held in Melbourne at which the (generous) prizes for this are awarded. I was placed third last year and read my poem there. A book of entries was produced too. Entry is $20. And, no, you don’t have to be Catholic, or of any other religion (although you can be!).
Secondly (and this one is open to all poets writing in English) there is the University of Canberra Vice Chancellor’s International Poetry Prize. There is no theme for this one. Again, there are great prizes, including a tidy $15,000 for the first place getter. However, some may quite reasonably baulk at the entry fees for these prestigious competitions ($20). There is a discounted rate for university students, and there is also a separate free competition for students in Year 11 and 12 at an ACT or NSW school. There are also cash prizes for this one, and ‘winners will be invited to attend the IPSI Poetry on the Move festival where they will be invited to read their poem and a chance to meet some excellent poets.’ And possibly some mediocore ones! That is not compulsory though.
There is yet another competition being offered through the University of Canberra too. This is the Health Poetry Prize, which is only open to Australians, and the poems must be on the theme of ‘Living Life Well’, which also sounded vaguely off-putting to me at first glance, until I noticed that the poem could also deal with barriers to ‘Living Life Well’. So there is no need to use that foul word ’empowerment’…This one is $10 to enter, and seems like a great initiative.
Of course, everyone who has ever written a poem in English, and their more literate pets, will enter the international Uni of Canberra one, which makes it the most competitive. (Given that ‘everyone’ has a credit card with at least $20 left on it.) These things are a bit of a lottery (however well qualified the judges are), but if you get a decent poem out of the process, it may be worth it.
My own view of poetry competitions is that if the topic catches my eye, I’ll have a go, but I won’t force a poem out because there is a competition. I have written about the whole economy of competitions elsewhere. (At Overland.)
Have fun!
Tuesday poem: Third in a long series of nasty little poems
April 25, 2016
Third in a long series of nasty little poems
Her stilettos so sharp
her brain the chewing gun
beneath one heel;
occasionally a thought sticks.
P.S. Cottier
Image by MOs810, CC-BY-SA-3.0
I may take a break from all this nastiness next week and write a Lovely Poem About Puppies. Or not. Particularly after I just read Of Mice and Men.
Tuesday poem: Second in a long series of nasty little poems
April 18, 2016
A ‘brilliant young man’ from Sydney
Unfortunately ruptured a kidney —
For his black jeans won’t zip
Round the tenure of hip,
Which perplexed our ‘young’ man from Sydney.
I am the last person in the world to suggest that people should dress in an ‘age-appropriate’ way, which for women seems to mean a sudden desire for demure suits and mousy blonde bobs past the age of forty. Neither am I inclined to judge people by their size.
But when you see a fellow who is sailing into late middle age rigged out in a grungy something that would challenge a very fit twenty-two year old, well it’s not good, my dear. It’s not good approaching, and it’s infinitely worse from behind. Mental vanity can sometimes be expressed in inability to see the body, let alone to mark its changes. Play and pastiche in clothes are one thing, but black skinny jeans are quite another.
Next week I promise a return to my normal politically astute observations of the world. Either that or more dodgy style tips from one who tends to favour Rorscharch blotches in neon colours.
This series is proving great fun and shows no sign of ever ending. This poem was actually the fourth one I have written, but as the first one was also about a woman, I wanted a man to feature as well! And the third is so toxic (and identifiable) that I may keep that for my own amusement.
You can see which other poets are posting on Tuesday by checking out the sidebar here.
Tuesday poem: First in a long series of nasty little poems
April 12, 2016
She would surely
free the refugees —
but mostly those
with nice table manners.
P.S. Cottier
Based on overhearing a conversation at a café about how ‘we’ could take in more refugees if only they would ‘assimilate into mainstream society’. I said nothing, but write this in true esprit de l’escalier. It’s almost an aphorism, rather than a poem, isn’t it?
The poet contemplates the inescapable nature of the class system
A Richter moment of tectonic rock came
when I heard the voice of smug middle class
speaking through me. A mythic, conceited Volvo
blonde used me as her blank-eyed dummy,
stuck lovely manicure up me and made me say
‘The guinea pigs don’t like asparagus!’.
My ears could not believe my mouth’s betrayal,
the change marked by that simple recipe.
The seesaw tipped, sudden rodeo bucking,
swung away from student furniture of bricks,
stray cushions and ideas, towards clogging
superannuation of risotto and good red.
Class catches us like butterflies, or half-frozen slugs,
which we pick, so carefully, from our organic greens.
P.S. Cottier
No telling who that poet might be, but I used to have guinea pigs…And how’s that for a catchy title, by the way?
Muffet cc licence 2.0 (Wiki Commons)
PS Cottier 