Poetry Competition

To celebrate the launch of my new website, I held a poetry competition. Entrants were asked to write a haiku or short poem on the subject of fear or ghosts. Every entry was special. A fellow writer chose a shortlist for me and we worked together to choose the five winners. Finalists and special mentions are in the previous two posts; the five winners are below.

The judging panel chose the following poems on the basis that they expressed a coherent idea about ghosts or fear, with brevity, originality, and in a fresh and vivid style. The panel was especially drawn to the final surprising moments—provocative, chilling or humorous—in these five poems.



On Fear

I fear I'll dream beneath closed eyes
I fear my truths and worse my lies
I fear I'll always be alone
When I wake up and find you gone

Sometimes fears hide honesty
They show us things we cannot see
Yet often, too, they're insincere
What, then, the use of trusting fear?

(Tara, Barooga, New South Wales)


My unquiet heart thrums.
Death reaches my hands,
And I grasp, but he lets go.

(Carmen, Chirnside Park, Victoria)


Eyes thirsty,
searching, scanning...
slamming shut.
Hair standing on end,
hand grasping at head,
toes curling under,
and under,
and under again.
Heart torn in two,
in three, in seven,
in nine thousand and ten.
Finger jabbing
mouse clicking,
ex-ing, ex-ing,
ex-ing out again.
Windows shut,
screens clear,
tentative eyes
blink open,
stolen breaths return
to welcoming lungs.
Fear releases me
from the atrocity
of spoilers.

(Angelica of Burr Ridge, Illinois, USA)


Ghosts – wispy white wonders,
Wandering between one world and the next,
Watching over us? one must wonder—
Or imaginary wonders of what one wants.

(Kym, Eatons Hill, Queensland)


Ghosts:

Drums beat out a slow pace.
The marchers unseen,
Their feet pounded the ground
Beating a drum of their own.
The sound travelled far
Echoing through my skull
Calling me back from distant plains.
I came, but saw nothing.
My eyes were long gone.
The sound just a memory.
I screamed at the living
But they chose not to hear.
Alone and forgotten,
I lay back down
A blackness creeping over my heart.
Resting my head on an earthen pillow
I consigned my soul back into the darkness,
As ghosts walked over my grave.

(Christopher, originally from Malta, but now residing in Sheffield)