Poem of the Week
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Poem of the Week will now also be judged by a guest reviewer each week Below are a selection of poems that have been submitted for poem of the week. Each week a guest reviewer will choose the winner and that poem will be highlighted for the following week and stored on the Archive Page. Every three months a special book will be published celebrating the winning poems for that period plus a selection of other poetry chosen by Lin and guest reviewers. If you'd like to be the guest reviewer one week, then please contact Lin here
Submitting poetry for Poem of the WeekWe accept poems of all types for this weekly event but do reserve the right to refuse to enter any poem that does not meet up to Mad Jock Publishers decency requirements. To enter a poem, just click on the link below and type the title and body of the poem in your e-mail. You will also need to add this line to your e-mail: "This poem is my poem and is not copyrighted by any other poet." If you would like your picture to go alongside your poem, then please attach a picture file with your e-mail. Submit poem here
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Poem of the Week is administered by Lin Priest.
Lin is the author of 2 Mad Jock Publishers publications.
  
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Winner Week 17
Guest judge Sandra Sperling chose the winner of the seventeenth week's poem of the week as Alan Peat. See it here.
Winner Week 16
Guest judge Mick Blamire chose the winner of the sixteenth week's poem of the week as Angee Edgar. See it here.
Winner Week 15
Guest judge Laura Stephenson chose the winner of the fifteenth week's poem of the week as Laura Davey. See it here.
Winner Week 14
Guest judge Bob Kirke chose the winner of the fourteenth week's poem of the week as Laura Stephenson. See it here.
Winner Week 13
Guest judge Jeff Howe chose the winner of the thirteenth week's poem of the week as Doherty. See it here.
Winner Week 12
After counting all the votes the winner of the twelfth week's poem of the week is Laura Stephenson. See it here.
Winner Week 11
After counting all the votes the winner of the eleventh week's poem of the week is Steph Spiers. See it here.
Winner Week 10
After counting all the votes the winner of the tenth week's poem of the week is Ben Shevlin. See it here.
Winner Week 9
After counting all the votes the winner of the ninth week's poem of the week is Philippa Jane Cooper. See it here.
Winner Week 8
After counting all the votes the winner of the eighth week's poem of the week is Pip Travis. See it here.
Winner Week 7
After counting all the votes the winner of the seventh week's poem of the week is Steph Spiers. See it here.
Winner Week 6
After counting all the votes the winner of the sixth week's poem of the week is Mary Merryweather. See it here.
Winner Week 5
After counting all the votes the winner of the fifth week's poem of the week is Claire Seaman. See it here.
Winner Week 4
After counting all the votes the winner of the fourth week's poem of the week is Alan Peat. See it here.
Winner Week 3
After counting all the votes the winner of the third week's poem of the week is Donna Parkinson. See it here.
Winner Week 2
After counting all the votes the winner of the second week's poem of the week is Kazy. See it here.
Winner Week 1
After counting all the votes the winner of the first week's poem of the week is Eddie Lundon. See it here.
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Week 18 - 28th June - 4th July 2008 - Entries
This weeks guest judge will be Mary Merryweather-Travis
Click by Shelley Lofthouse
Welcome Shelley, a newcomer to poem of the week
Click. Click. Click.
The catwalk, crash lights call.
The Limo arrived around 7-
Fashionably late.
Chauffeurs dressed in green and white,
Angry they clashed with my faded blue and beige.
This pale, fine couture wins critical acclaim.
Pale really does suit me.
Aaaaaah
I have arrived.
“Seventeen inches.”
A picture of porcelain beauty.
Gold gunge flows away me.
Magic.
I catch my reflection on the cold, silver mirror
That I sprawl across.
This is my greatest accomplishment,
My most envied shoot.
They lust after me.
Click. Click. Click.
The only time I have seen this skeletal frame
Is now.
“That will not be heavy, Sir.”
Gentle and delicate.
Please take care with this Goddess.
They nip and tuck.
My heart, liver and eye-lids.
My nose, slightly up-ward turning, a quick lift.
So fragile.
Wrists as fine as thread,
They all take time to admire.
I can finally relax as they wrap it up.
“18:53.”
That’s a wrap!
No Myron, bulky Olympian here.
I am beyond.
I am God herself.
Death by Bill Moore (poppybill)
Another newcomer to poet of the week. Hello, Bill.
Your time has come
and you arrive in
the valley of lost souls
Lightning flashes splash
across the darkened sky
as if to show the way
The gates are opened
to let you enter
and then they slam shut
Once inside there is
no return to life
and your future is finished
Can this be heaven
or
can it be hell?
On the slide by Steph Spiers
I wrote, On the slide, after helplessly watching the destruction of a good friend. Terrible shame.
Mother’s ruin; wicked gin.
Swigging ale with a grin,
gulping lager is no sin.
Mother’s ruin; noisy bars,
broken glasses, blood red cars,
roadside verges decked in flowers.
Mother’s ruin; broken homes,
wired up jaws, fractured bones,
crushed kids and HP loans.
Mother’s ruin; children gone,
boozy pals hanging on
passing the bottle one by one.
Mother’s ruin; end in sight,
sodden sheets, DT night,
pray to stop with all her might.
Mother’s ruin; now complete,
name tag tied on her feet.
Cold steel slab, crisp white sheet.
A hard call to make… by Donna Parkinson
A hard call to make, I said strong things,
Words that threatened our wedding rings,
Mostly felt for a long time inside,
Feelings that I can no longer hide,
The situation is precarious,
The solutions are various,
But we can’t tread this path anymore,
We need to change direction or close the door,
Words can’t be taken back once they’re said,
Even though you may reconsider them later in your head,
Too late the damage is done,
But I am not the only one,
You too have said stuff in the past,
We try to forget but they last,
So if it’s over I accept my fate,
I opened the can of worms and ate,
You were satisfied to just drift on by,
But I needed to understand why,
Why you make me feel so mad,
Why I am no longer glad,
Why I feel so alone in my life,
Why I am the ignored wife,
Why you do little to change your lot,
Why you are content to accept what I cannot,
Why you are coasting and I’m in a hurry,
Why I am the only one that seems to worry,
I still don’t have the answers so it was obviously a waste,
It seems now that it was pointless to make haste,
Nothing ventured and nothing gained,
Everything lost and my energy waned,
A gaping hole in what used to be ours,
Washed away with the summer showers,
23 years flushed down the pan,
I guess you just were not the man,
We knew it was over that was never questionable,
No point in crying it was inevitable,
The time has come so we must part company,
But I want you to know that you always were the only one for me.
My Quiet Corner by Alan Peat
In my quiet corner of this garden,
Two converging walls, Victoriana’s
Soft decaying brickwork meet;
And well kept lawns
Beneath my feet,
Greets Spring in all its re-discovered glory.
Against the silver birch’s trunk, a wooden bench in dedication,
Creates a tranquil separation from the ordered,
And nature here released, in wild profusion waves its magic wand,
Sweet Rocket, Honesty, and the Garlic Mustard bloom;
For countless butterflies, enticed into flirtatious ritual gather,
Their fragile wings in constant beat mark time;
The passing of an afternoon.
Here then I often sit, alone,
As solitude in unsought correlation inspires solace,
And worldly cares can wave goodbye,
In taking flight towards the sun,
To join the dancing butterflies.
In this my quiet corner.
Beneath the Covers by Jin Robinson
Welcome to another new poet who has lived in South Africa for most of her life. She finds writing poems very therapeutic and helpful. I agree with her – I have written so many trying to iron out the creases in my life!
A child sleeping
Wakes up to find a boy peeking
Zip down on her
Dressing gown
His hand had touched me
How open she felt
She said nothing
As this is the life she was dealt
Years later a letter
To ask her if she was better
Told her what he had done
She kept it hidden
As a part of her liked what he had written
Now when she is in bed
With others
She finds her hands
Go beneath the covers !
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Submit poem here
Archive Page.
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