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TRANSFORMATION POETRY COMP - FEB 2023

THE RESULTS!

This month's poetry competition theme was TRANSFORMATION.

We received 17 entries and you can find them all below.


The results were announced at our special 18th birthday evening held at Watford Museum on 27 February 2023, and it's congratulations to:


  • 1st place: Louise Welland - Legs Eleven
  • 2nd place: Mike Lansdown - We Used To Enjoy Parties
  • Joint 3rd place: Susan Bennett - The Circle of Life; Liz Shaw - Please Don't Come To My Funeral; and Louise Welland - Why Change?


ENTRY 1

BACK TO A GREEN AND PLEASANT LAND by Geoff Brown

T hrowaway culture blights our land

R ubbish is strewn without a care

A pathy stays the moderating hand

N o-one seems to turn a hair

S omeone has to get a grip 

F oul littering should be weeded out

O fficialdom needs to crack the whip

R ouse itself and have more clout

M ake fly tipping a capital crime

A pply the noose to those who sin

T ell offenders they’ll do prison time

I nstil civic pride in kith and kin 

O ur landscape can be made pristine

N aught must blunt the push to clean



ENTRY 2

PROGRESS? by Andrea Neidle

Where

children

played                                                     

rolled                                                        

freedom

filled                                                                                                       

down                                                    

grassy                                                                                  

slopes                                                                                                                      

high rise

blocks                                                                        

now                                                                                     

raise                                                                                              

their   

rooftops  

to the sky.

Behind

a thousand

windows

frenzied

parents

seek out

dots

on the

asphalt

c        h    



                                                i      


                                                           l     d


                                                                              r   e   n

                     

                                                                                                 playing.                                                               



ENTRY 3

YOUTH by Judy Klimt

If Youth were but an armour

That only had been shed,

I’d look for it in every room,

I’d look beneath the bed.


I’d look inside the wardrobe,

I’d look behind the door,

I’d search the loft from end to end

And rifle every drawer.


I’d seek to know what form it took -

If supple or concrete -

And if it left me in the day

Or while I was asleep.


I’d ask the many questions

That Man is doomed to ask:

Oh how could something held so close

Escape from out one’s grasp?


Then if I found it lying

Where it had fallen down,

I’d pick it up and wrap it tight

Around me like a gown...


And if it then transformed me

To how I was before -

Well, there would be a righteous case

Of property restored!



ENTRY 4

LEGS ELEVEN by Louise Welland

The sun’s about to show itself 

So take your razor from the shelf


We’re not just talking sex appeal

Its more about the ‘great reveal’


Need suds and foam and hand so steady

To transform legs to ‘summer ready’ 


Bamboozling choices, Nair or Veet?

Thighs to knees or knees to feet?


Sandpaper or depilatory cream

Or go for waxing? Live the dream!


Don’t forget behind those shins

Imperative for sexy pins


What is it that makes it grow?

For goodness sake! Now Hairy toes 


Moisturise and skin descale 

File rough heels and polish nails


To use fake tan or not to bother?

First one decision then another 


Strappy sandals now, not crocs

Nor knee high tights or Christmas socks


Bleeding calves and Razor burn

Let's pray for winter’s fast return



ENTRY 5

ACTION MAN by Melville Lovatt

The newspaper ad asked, ‘Is your life

marred by unsightly nasal hair?’

A glance in the mirror confirmed the worst:

A dreaded forest was growing there!


He faced the truth. His life was marred.

He decided this was mainly to blame.

His lack of success with women due

to his naughty nostrils not playing the game.


Decisive action was needed now.

Simply no time for further delay.

This nostril shaver – free battery, too –

would herald the start of a brand-new day!


And so, when next he ventured forth,

not a single hair could be viewed.

He felt a new spring in his step,

his confidence fully renewed.


Though women still didn’t fall at his feet,

with this wonderful number one trimmer

the balance was tipped in his favour, now.

He knew he was on to a winner…



ENTRY 6

WE USED TO ENJOY PARTIES by Mike Lansdown

We used to enjoy parties

A long, long time ago

When the only tools that these hands knew

Were shovel, pick, and hoe.


We used to enjoy parties

When the corn grew straight and high

And we could trust that only dust 

From tractors filled the sky.


We use to enjoy parties

And endless summer days

Where it seems we were free to dream

In oh! so many ways.


We used to enjoy parties

When old men sat and smoked

And watched their children’s children play

And laugh, and cry, and joke.


We used to enjoy parties

Before this year of change

When another’s hand, our beloved land,

Turned cold and cruel and strange.


We used to enjoy parties

When the land was ours to roam

Unafraid of bomb or blade

In the place that we call home.


We used to enjoy parties

And we’ll do so once again

From coast to coast, our hearts will toast

‘The Motherland - Ukraine!’


We used to enjoy parties.


ENTRY 7

COLD SNAP by Jan Rees

Frost has scattered diamonds all around.

They glitter, where the winter sun strikes the pavement

The tops of walls and cars are dusted with icing sugar

Grass verges have become carpets of silver spikes with here and there sprays of white lace leaves

They sparkle like a horde of stolen jewellery

The bird bath is a skating rink, but no skaters come

Only disappointed, thirsty birds

Delicate fringes of hoar frost line the slender lattice of a wire fence

And a sheen of ice skims the surface of a muddy puddle

Turning it into a gleaming bronze disc

Some plants are not cheered by all this Arctic beauty 

They bow their heads, longing for the warmth of Spring

Even the green gloss of the holly tree is veiled by a frosty gauze

Like an ice queen hung about with scarlet jewels


The pale grey foliage of the sage and lavender hide their rich scent

From the unfriendly chill, but they will be back

And a regiment of snowdrops marches forward

Their green spears pointing the way ahead

For they are the advance guard of what is to come



ENTRY 8

ENTER METROPOLIS by Ian Welland

Countryside replaced 

by urban sprawl,

The trees, the parks, 

you can count them all


Step out of the carriage, 

onto the platform,

Air you don’t have, 

the smog is warm


Up from below, 

grey streets await,

Enter metropolis 

and await your fate.


Suits and shoes 

brush by on the way,

A quick buck, a deal, 

souvenirs in the rain.


Screeching and squealing

Piccadilly stands still,

Eros looking down, 

nothing surreal.


This London has grown, 

no clear water of Thames,

Enter metropolis, 

for Icarus descends.



ENTRY 9

FROM DAZZLING LIGHTS TO BEYOND by Ilmas Isard

Glittering lights from the plane,

With swimming pools all lit up!


Land in the city with Hollywood sign

&

palm tree lined boulevards!


Catch the sunset from Casa Del Mar

& watch the pier from afar.


Drive down Sunset boulevard in a

topless car!


Down to Laurel Canyon- Love Street

community!


On to Downtown with towering

skyscrapers & smart fund mangers!


Not all that glitters is gold, in LA LA

land you know!


Just take a walk down Skid Row!


Full of homeless people, who get

treated like they are criminals!


Some with mental health disorders,

some out of money, some choose

not to be seen as part of society!


The transformation is plain to see,

in the the land of plenty!



ENTRY 10

FLOWERS by Melville Lovatt

Someone had come before him,

put flowers on her grave.

He puzzled as to who this was…

Her brothers, Chris or Dave?


No, it couldn’t be those two.

They lived too far away…

It must be someone nearer home…

But who? He dared not say.


He’d often wondered how they’d

stayed together through the years.

Just force of habit? No. Not true.

They’d loved through joy and tears.


But the flowers provoked a vision, now:

His son’s face, crystal clear.

The same face, yes, of best friend, Jim. 

A shadow fell, quite near…


Could it be true, he had always known?

Played along for appearances sake?

Had Jim, a married man, known too?

Too much had been at stake?


Through angry tears, he grabbed the flowers,

and threw them in a bin.

A man was closing the cemetery gates.

Better go or be locked in… 



ENTRY 11

FROM MY WINDOW by Andrea Neidle

I awoke and drew the curtains wide

And everything had changed outside!

All that had been green before

Now wore a snowy pinafore.

The bird bath which had looked so nice

Was now glinting with shimmering ice

The flowers were all bent so low

Their delicate blooms all covered in snow.

And everywhere on the snowy ground

Odd little footprints could be found.

Creatures who’d visited in the dark

Had come to play and left their mark.

And there was nowhere to be seen

Not even the tiniest speck of green.

All was quiet and white and still

And had I not been so ill

I would have run to get my boots

And stamped in that snow

With loud whoops of joy.

Instead I heard my mother shout

What are you doing up and about?

If you want to be well young man

Get back to bed as fast as you can!

You'll soon be up and out to play

The snow will keep for another day.



ENTRY 12

ATHLETE by Steve Clifford

He struggles and strains, to cross the street

His feet are slow, that once were so fleet

His brow is furrowed. His face is grey

His chest is a tomb for a heart in decay


He falters and stumbles, and staggers in pain

His life flashes past as he lives it again.

The garlands the medals, the cheers of the crowd

His heart thumping strong, and beating so loud


His pulses are pounding and driving him on

The length of his stride, powerful, strong!

As he rounds the last bend the end is in sight. 

He steps up the pace. His feet are in flight.


These memories behind him, he strides to his death

Whilst his body lies wheezing, and gasping last breath



ENTRY 13

A WAVE IN THE OCEAN by Sumi Watters

Picture the ocean if you will 

See the sunlight dancing upon ripples 

Feel the salty breeze brush against your cheek

Hear its roar in your very core 

A boundless 

mysterious 

wonder 

The very essence of life.


Now picture a wave in the ocean

See it in your mind’s eye

A powerful arm rising out of the sea 

Reaching up towards the sky

See how the light refracts as it passes through

Feel its spray as it gains height

You can see it 

hear it

feel it

taste it. 

It’s a wave

Emerging briefly as a separate entity

Before it crashes on the shore

And returns to its watery form

As it merges back into the sea

Where it came from

Where it belongs. 


You, too, are a wave

You may be the most 

beautiful

powerful

awe-inspiring 

remarkable 

Wave in the ocean

But one day your wave 

Will merge in the ocean of existence

And return once more 

someday

somewhere 

On a different shore. 




ENTRY 14

PLEASE DON'T COME TO MY FUNERAL by Liz Shaw

Please don’t come to my funeral

Come to a party instead

Because if you come to my funeral

I’ll know that I’m definitely dead


For I plan to be there as a shimmer of air

To hear what you say about me

Remember the years as you smile through the tears

And I’ll live once again in your memory


I know that you’ll miss me now you can’t kiss me

But remember the laughter and love

I’ll be in the breeze that flutters the leaves 

My spirit will float up above


So please don’t come to my funeral

Come to my party instead

Hold me in your heart and we won’t be apart

And I’ll never really be dead



ENTRY 15

CIRCLE OF LIFE by Susan Bennett

Pudgy legs kick the air

A little fist grabs my hair

Giggles and gurgles

In response I burble

To my new born child


Baby teeth and broken sleep

Crying frenzy makes me weep

Scraped shoes and grazed knees

Minor bumps climbing trees

A baby no longer, my child


Laughter and cuddles disappear

Empty tins of supermarket beer

Dirty washing and dirty plates

‘Don’t bother I’m with my mates’

My monosyllabic teenage child


A few years pass and now at work

Shorter haircut, good shoes, smarter shirt

Money in his pocket, pretty girl on his arm

No longer needed to keep safe from harm 

My one and only child


He doesn’t forget me and calls with news

Which one day chased away my blues

‘I’m getting married Mum’, he phoned to say

Get a new hat for this my special day

No longer alone, my child


Life moved on and there he stands

Welcoming with outstretched hands

A little bundle clasped close to his chest

‘Oh Mum’, he said, ‘isn’t this the best’

As he showed me his new born child



ENTRY 16

WHY CHANGE? by Louise Welland

I want to become a new man

But not sure I'm getting much closer

I ring up the gym

To book myself in

Then find myself sat on the sofa


I'm doing my best to make changes 

By eating more salad and veg 

But my head soon gets turned 

As I find myself  charmed

By the smells that come wafting from Greggs


I'm trying so hard to stop drinking

Sup diet cokes night after night 

But it makes my hands shake

And that keeps me awake

So I nip down the pub for a pint


I really want to stop smoking 

Because lung cancer’s one of my fears

Though I cough and I gag

I still have a fag

Cos I'm hooked and I have been for years 


I think that perhaps I'll stop swearing

It’s the easiest thing to give up

But I can't find my smokes

It's gone past a joke 

Oh sod it, I don't give a fu..


Perhaps it is time to stop gambling 

It's a terrible waste of a life 

And I still feel the scars 

Of selling my car

But I’m glad the debt lost me my wife!


So what is the point of transforming

To just becomes miserable as sin?

Need takeaway grub 

Then I'm off to the pub

Where I'm comfortable in my own skin



ENTRY 17

NICE BY NUMBERS by Judy Klimt

Abigail is nice by numbers

Really has herself in hand,

Maybe isn’t good by nature

Yet’s been made to understand

What is right and wrong behaviour

What’s acceptable to show -

Acts as she has been instructed

Goes where she’s been told to go.


Abigail has gone for counselling

Which she’s been advised to take

For her marriage, for her children,

For her reputation’s sake;

She’s too wise not to have realized

That it really doesn’t work

To give way to temper tantrums

Lose control and go berserk.


Abigail is work in progress -

She’s a soul that has been saved

From addiction, dereliction

Leading to an early grave.

Some of us are blest with virtue

Some have harder work to do:

Abigail is nice by numbers 

But it’s really seen her through.



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