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Local Poem Competition 2006 Winner

Owen Lowery


 

An article in his local paper has left Billinge poet Owen Lowery £1,000 richer. Owen (37) started writing poetry a year ago but when he saw an article about a national competition, he decided to "have a go".

The article asked for entries to a £1,000 national competition, requesting poetry about your home town.

"When I saw the title of Owen's poem – Ode to Billinge – I thought, how can anyone make an interesting poem out of a title like that," said United Press Director, Peter Quinn, who judged the the competition which received over 9,000 entries. "But Owen managed to do it. It's a great poem and just shows what a beginner can achieve. Owen is so serious about poetry that he can go on to even greater things."

Owen, who is disabled after a teenage judo accident, started a creative writing course at Bolton University last year under the tutelage of John Glover, a published poet.

"I did a lot of research for my poem in which I wanted to reflect the fact that Billinge is a small town which has to struggle to find its own identity because of its position between several big towns," explained Owen. "I didn't think a poem about a town like Billinge would have a chance of winning a big national competition but it's my town and I wanted to write about it."

"That's what makes Owen's poem stand out from the rest," explained Peter Quinn. "His subject matter is a challenge but the result is truly impressive. That's what makes a great poem."

   
   

 

ODE TO BILLINGE

Above you, heaven and the seagull’s call.
Before you, a map of imperial fall.
Between you and Ireland, no greater height.
The Armada fled your beacon bright.

Beneath you, miner and quarryman died.
Your heart caught fire when their bellows sighed.
You spewed up your stone to build our homes.
We salved your wounds with suburban blooms.

Within you, seams like capillaries spread.
Your slopes play host to the sleepless dead.
Inside your taverns legends spring to life
Of the royal blade and the robber’s knife.

Refuge of romance, by Saint Aydan blessed.
Blind to all commerce is your ancient crest.
In this land of rainfall and black cloud burst,
For what the greedy fear, the poet thirsts.

Owen Lowery, Billinge, Lancashire

         

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