She receives £75 prize money for her poem 'To Cure a Sad Salmon in Winter'.
The second prize of £15 goes to Angela Bradley for her poem 'Giants of the Sea'.
The authors listed below were also short-listed, and submitted work alongside the winners for the anthology 'Writing on Water' (details below).
Leah Armstead, Sandra Burdett, Christine Collette, Andria Cooke
Daniel Gustaffson, Phil Powley, Keith Shaw, Ginna Wilkerson
Some of the Shortlisted Poems...
To Cure a Sad Salmon in Winter
by Jane Osis
Light a damp basement in Oslo with candles,
despite the dreariness of winter
© Jane Osis 2011
The Remains of the Day
by Keith Shaw
They could be yours or mine, this company
of jocund ganders strolling row by row
along the lane, those at the rear their heads held high,
as if preparing for some festive show,
those in front scooping their beaks, as if
to catch a final sparkle from the crystal pool.
While autumn sunshine gilds the noble elms,
whose unmarked leaves have yet to fall;
the carefree ganders trip into the limpid swim,
not knowing that the ripples which they make
will travel downstream like a punt that's slipped
its bollard, carrying their swansong in its wake.
They do not see that further on, the trees
are bare and splintered, crosses in thick mire;
nor do they hear the strangled cries, the snap
of sudden death, the fearful hiss of raging fire.
They do not see the bits of khaki tortured
by a bitter wind, the pools of crimson blood,
the severed heads, the blown-off limbs, left,
like a toddler's playthings, on a raft of mud.
They do not understand that only steps away,
the crystal pool becomes a stagnant pond;
even the autumn sun had turned its blind eye,
to the slaughter and the grief which lie beyond.
© Keith Shaw 2011
After 'The Watersplash' by H La Thangue, 1859-1929, painted c 1900
by Sandra Burdett
Amaryllis you silly nymph
© Sandra Burdett 2011
Giants of the Sea
by Angela Bradley
Land emerges, mist swathed,
rising from the languor of a sapphire sea,
outlined with a yellow brush,
coloured by the green of fringing palms,
structured with a shoreline of pastel hues.
Into this paradise giants glide
on the morning tide,
sunshine robed, majestic,
appearing as visiting royalty,
to be welcomed with elation
by the waiting inhabitants
of this tiny Carribbean island.
As if released from Noah's Ark,
tourists emerge, swarming as ants
from a teeming hill,
to lie on golden beaches,
explore the mysteries of hidden reefs,
seek the secrets of island culture,
climb to ancient forts to view a panorama
in which their floating hotel
looms, large as Gulliver
over the land of Lilliput.
At sunset a steel band echoes farewell.
One by one they sail, graceful as swans,
leaving an island, flushed with bounty,
disappearing into the darkening horizon,
on their migratory journey
to distant harbours across the sea.
© Angela Bradley 2011
At the Crematorium
by Andria Cooke
Sadness of the day gives way
to shock. The people here
alive make deeper grief.
Time has twisted,
grossly thickened every line.
Heads fade to hoar.
The patriarch appears behind a mask.
Families move outward,
mutate and find new hearts.
The ties that bind will stretch,
slacken, tighten once more.
This is what we, the bridge of generations,
go from dust to ashes for.
© Andria Cooke 2011
* If you are one of the shortlisted authors, please do not click on the Paypal button to obtain copies. Your free copy will be on the way. If you require further copies, contact me to receive them at authors' discount. - Kay G.