Adult
The overall winner of the 2019 prize was Rebekah Miron for her poem The red moon
The red moon
For the autumn equinox
In the smoky half-light, a red moon is rising high above the
peached canopy of cloud that drops gold across the sun dusk.
She is round and halved as a pomegranate, suspended on the cusp
of spilling her seeds, a tingle of moths, fluttering soft and strange
through the evening. The red moon beams, drunk on her own
blood wine, she floods the bonfire night, the fox and russet leaves,
a twitch of mice who hurry the dirt
and quiver beneath dandelion stars. As the trees catch fire and
the season shifts, the night is spilt with heleniums.
The red moon turns over the sky, she breathes, then moves a purple
dark bruise to gather and mute the horizon.
Shortlisted Entries
Bittersweet by Sue Marlow
(A poem about the coffee berry)
Your smooth skin slides easily
On the palm of my hand
As I rotate your deep blood red flesh
Will you stain my hand
As you have the world’s?
You, the source of wealth, of poverty
Of pleasure and exploitation
Unconscious victim and perpetrator
I, the sentient being seeking sense in a bean
Hastings Sojourn by Charlie Bell
I went to be alone, but you were everywhere.
In the very pebbles where we often walk,
in the fishing boats, and net shacks,
in Love Café and the Kino,
in the crying gulls and the whispering wash.
You were in the multi-coloured underground car park
and the smugglers’ caves and castle.
I found you at the Jerwood and in George Street
and at the crazy golf.
The kids and grandkids were there too,
their memories threaded with ours.
Wherever I went you were imprinted there,
countless years of pleasure and escape
wrapped in chip paper, marked by endless cups of coffee.
I walked and walked, and the more solitary I became,
the more you kept me company and eased my pain.
What the Goldfinch Knows about Nigella by Peppy Scott
Love blossomed in a mist for one steamy season,
softening the summer light.
Kissed with ragged modesty,
it swayed with a delicacy
belying its endurance.
Its appearance was short-lived.
Cool beauty soon matured,
no longer waved to be admired,
she let herself go.
Slow, swellings began to grow
within the droops of faded heads
as Love attended to the task
of making her untidy bed.
Life burgeoned out of view through the next season
in drab parchment parcels
hung among the fog,
a dreary disappointment to the eyes.
But the goldfinches knew the secrets concealed,
seeing beyond the dull disguise,
recognised the hidden force
which drew them flocking in.
They feasted on the source
of Life’s black peppered energy
and warmth of the sunlight they missed.
Scarlet-flushed faces lit the grey days,
flashes of gold lifting the cold light
as they fed on the fire of last summer’s Love,
leaving just enough
to flare in this year’s mist.
Smoke by David Smith
Dad plays piano,
ripples dancing across the surface of his G&T
in time with his flying fingers.
Notes swirl in the air like wind-blown autumn leaves
falling on deaf ears...
We'd rather watch A Christmas Carol on the tiny black and white TV
or play with the toys we haven't broken yet
that we found gift-wrapped at the foot of our beds
in that magic hour between five and six
that belongs to children alone on Christmas morning.
Smoke spirals from the ashes of his thin cigar,
resting in the ashtray on the upright's polished lid,
stirred by the breeze from the open kitchen door
where mum labours over turkey and trimmings.
It curls through clouds of paper-chains and bright balloons,
a Will-o’-the-Wisp dancing towards heaven,
staining the white sky of polystyrene tiles
with his presence.
He left that summer, his departure unforeseen.
I woke to the sound of my mother's pain
And crept downstairs to find her weeping in the kitchen,
tears staining the single sheet of paper she clutched in her hand
while my sister hugged her close and stroked her hair,
whispering words of comfort.
Two decades pass. Uncertain glances on an evening train:
'Excuse me, but are you my father?'
'I think I might be,' he says,
and we smile as he steps to the platform below,
puffing on his inhaler.
We’re still smiling when the train pulls away.
he is smaller than I remember.
Ten more years: my own sleeping child stirs in my arms
As a ringing telephone cuts the morning silence.
Later, in a garden peopled with strangers,
I hold my weeping sister close and stroke her hair,
whispering words of comfort.
We stand aside as the strangers melt away
our eyes lifted to heaven,
tracing the trail of spiralling smoke
that stains the sky with his presence.
Children
The winning childrens entry was Blackberry Plunder by Evie Williams (aged 10)
I stumble past a mushroom fairy village clustered on a soft stump
Splashes of clear bright light break through the trees
Sun soaked leaves gleam golden with remnants of summer green
A hollow log is decorated with sparkly green velvet
White patches of my dogs fur flash brightly as she leaps in and out of the light
I crouch down to spy my prize
Cautiously reaching through the nettles
Avoiding the peril of the brambles guarding their treasure
I steal a blackberry from where it huddles
Bursting in purple explosions of sharp flavour on my tongue
My loot softly lands in my basket leaving blue stains of evidence on my fingers
I look up through the canopy of glowing leaves; dark where they overlap
The whispering of my feet through the undergrowth
Gives me away as I retreat with my bounty
Shortlisted Entries
Recipe for Harvest by Lucy Harper (aged 8)
Grow, grow big and strong
Seeds from earth big and strong
Bake some hefty potatoes
Cut some bright red tomatoes
Grind some golden wheat
Let the potion give off some beetroot pink sparks
Sprinkle some black soil
Grill some yellow hay
Boil some plump corn
Let the potion give off a few hay yellow sparks
Sizzle some kindness and happiness
Scramble some love and community
Grow, grow big and strong
Cool it with some fresh water
That is harvest just for you.
Amazing fun in the night by Annabelle Marcham (aged 6)
Amazing fun in the night.
Unusual sounds of birds.
Traffic light of the shimmering stars.
Umbrella-tastic in the wet rain.
Magnificent time in the soggy leaves.
Night shines with the moon.