Read Poetry from Poetry In Motion
Inspired poem wins top prize
A poem inspired by a beach in Cornwall has won a national poetry competition.
Sarah Duncombe of West Bromwich was selected as winner out of thousands of entries for her poem about a beach in Falmouth which she saw on holiday.
“I don’t write many poems but I wrote this on the spur of the moment because I was so inspired by the beauty of the beach and I only sent it into the competition at the last minute,” explained Sarah (31) an academic coach at Menzies High School Science College in West Bromwich, where, coincidently, she was educated.
The competition was run nationally by United Press and, as her prize, Sarah receives £100 and will have her poem published in a forthcoming book “Poetry In Motion”. Peter Quinn, one of the judges of the competition, said, “Sarah’s poem is descriptive and evocative. It paints a picture of an idyllic English day when a poet communes with nature and expresses an inspirational moment in powerful verse.”
Sarah said: “I consider myself lucky to have a job that enables me to work with poetry most days, in particular on the AQA English Language syllabus for GCSE.”
“I’ve been writing poetry for about ten years, ever since I took an A Level in English Literature,” she explained. “I would recommend poetry to anyone. It’s a great way to put your thoughts and feelings on paper and, as such, leave your mark on the world. Often I will look at at my work and tell myself - What a load of rubbish! But I was particularly pleased with the poem which won the competition.”
FROM GYLLYNGVASE BEACH
The morning mist lies heavy on the sea,
And the ships pass the day floating idly on the waves,
Rolling, rising, running to shore.
Time drifts for a million moments or more
As gracefully, the gulls glide, proud as kings.
Today, the air is damp beneath their wings.
Palm trees shiver in the lively sea breeze
Rustling and ruffling their long, pointed leaves.
In the café the atmosphere is warm and friendly.
Tranquility drowns in the storm of laughter, music and the clink, clank ching.
The view, you said, is the most amazing thing.
Slowly, mists thicken and day becomes night.
Ships illuminate the sea with pale yellow light.
Nature laughs at the footprints left in the sand
Of this elemental, this magic, this perfect land.
Sarah Duncombe
Below you can read excerpts of other work from poets published in Poetry In Motion.
THE CYCLE
The birth of the raindrop is lonely
until nursed in a mountain stream,
where it jinks along in the pastures of youth
unmindful of where it has been.
Trained into the river of awe,
trapped in laborious lake,
exalted in wine, abused in sewers,
redundant in factory waste.
Destined for the aged estuary,
spewed into the sea of death,
it stops, no further to go,
like a dying man on his last breath.
Up rises hope, the sun of life,
the spirit of vapour decrees,
wherever the raindrop is lost in the ocean,
it shall be lifted, cleansed and made free.
Ken James
NO ONE
Silent woman at the door clear as any reflection
Unknown figure cold and alone
White, frozen and serene, empty of emotion
Blink in a moment and instantly she is gone.
All is quiet and still in darkest night
Sudden footsteps heard echoing in the hall
Running, rushing, freezing wind takes flight
Gushing past each and all. Weird shadows on the wall.
Small child he waits there or at the window
A naive image from a time gone by
Innocent face sad, sombre and sallow
Lost waiting in time, but why?
There’s the tall, old man above the narrow stairs
Grey and gaunt he stands looking, waving
Eyes cold and hollow he silently stares
Watching all below never moving, yet fading.
How can it be that they are all here trapped in reality?
Never changing, never staying, remaining ageless in time
Always they keep returning, calling coldly
Unknown strangers, unreal, mere fantasy frightening a mind.
Martine Gafney
Dedicated to Trisha. Thanks for always listening and giving your support.
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DOG BEACH
In Freemantle by the yacht club
Is an amazing beach called Dog Beach.
From dawn to dusk doggy people and their dogs
Strut their stuff.
Big dogs and small dogs, three legged or lame,
Dogs run and swim and smell.
Their owners swell with pride, smiling.
The ocean nudges and tempts the canines.
Sea sounds are everywhere - tossed about and fragmented by the breeze.
Dog sounds too, whistled with expectancy.
Some swim in groups like synchronised ladies,
Old dogs are pushed in prams.
Happy humans chat and smile, proud of their canine progeny.
The sea is kind - the waves becoming transparent like lace.
The water, pearly blue and grey, spreads out in enamelled hues.
The day has started.
A crescendo of dry desert heat drags along the sand.
Today augers hot and breathless.
Kelpies and labradoodles sink in the sand, heelers home in and pant.
We start at dawn, they sigh to each other, time to withdraw until dusk.
Vicki Naylor
RAILWAY VIEWS
The train slowly travels along the line
Over the bridge above the flowing river Tyne
Down the embankment track for the first mile
On it’s journey from Newcastle to Carlisle
Gateshead metrocentre is the first station
Passengers carefully arise at their destination
Trees and bushes gently sway in the breeze
Road traffic moves with orderly ease
The whirring wheels go clickety-clack
Grazing sheep scatter away from the track
Rugby teams tackle each other down
Then we arrive at Hexham Town
The Tyne valley presents a panoramic show
Cloudy shadows traverse lingering hillside snow
Scampering wild rabbits enjoy their run
The rippling river glints under the sun
Haltwhistle hikers calmly wend their way
Brampton farmers strew feeding hay
The train speeds on until the last mile
Then glides to the platform at Carlisle
Thomas Conlon
Dedicated to Katarzyna, her family, friends and the staff at the Royal Station Hotel, Newcastle-upon-Tyne.
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POEM TO THE WIND
Two young people named Sally and Simon
Sat together on clifftops high
And watched for miles at every day life
As war planes prepared for battle
There were soldiers in uniform
Men and women of all ages
Saying goodbye to loved ones, family and friends
Living for today, with no thoughts for tomorrow
They wrote a poem and expressed their devotion
And vowed to be true to each other
They wrote about peace and the good times ahead
When war was over and grey skies are blue
They embraced and kissed
Their tears flowed freely
And then they set free
Their poem to the wind
Simon went to war and never returned
And was killed for love of his country
Sally grieved and died of a broken heart
Now together united, in the garden of our Lord
Jim Carlin
PALE HORIZON
To crash through the silent thought - as snow fell.
Thundering, yet normal pitch,
Shattering the comfort on that June day.
What makes the human need embrace the silence
With its voice, as though in greater pain?
Unconscious, sub-conscious uttering,
To break the eternity with its very impulse
And take us far away, yet here and here alone
To die despairing without rest.
In this lies hope of light and kindliness,
With all the shoals of little fishes
That swim in the sea towards life.
Ann McNair
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YEAR END
A lone, grieving fruit falls, fingers of trees
Reach upwards to search for
The reluctant sun.
Earth tilts her tearful face, blanching white,
Pausing in enforced rest;
Hoping, dreaming, knowing he will
Return to her with his neverending
Gift of life.
Walter Jacob
Dedicated to my two sons and to all the members of their respective families.
FAST FORWARD
It started with a look, I don’t like what I see,
An unfamiliar face staring back at me.
Greying hair, wrinkles, a mouth turned down,
A well-worn face with a permanent frown.
This can’t be right, it can’t be true,
But the mirror reflects the real you.
When did it happen, was it overnight?
Have I been blinkered, am I losing my sight?
Realisation is sinking in fast,
Youth and beauty never last.
It is said wisdom comes to the aged,
Reserved for when your bloom has faded.
Suddenly life’s lost its sparkle, wails begin,
Then the image I see is not what’s within.
So I’m older, but not yet over the hill,
I’ve hopes, dreams and ambitions to fulfill.
Smile, stand tall, all five feet two inches,
Look to the future without any flinches.
Out of fashion, wear and tear showing,
Onward relentlessly, positively glowing.
Marysia Proctor
VOYAGE
Poetry in motion or are you staying still
Busy getting nowhere like a hamster on a wheel
The beginning is the start, the end is the finish
You grow, develop, mature, age, then diminish
Do you appreciate the view or try to win the race
Comforts of home or bold adventures you embrace
Change the circumstances or change your attitude
Glass half full and showing all your gratitude
Glass half empty and full of resentment
Or happy in a bubble of cosy contentment
What path do we tread, what road do we travel
As time marches on the truth will unravel
Whatever the voyage the truth is universal
You get just one crack, life ain’t a dress rehearsal
Diana Hunt
Born in Redbridge, Diana Hunt has interests ncluding travel, film and going to the theatre. “I started writing as a release,” she explained. “My work is influenced by conflict and I would describe my style as cynical. I would like to be remembered as an unpredictable person.” Aged 44, Diana has an ambition to get a book of her own work published. She has four poems published to date and she has also written short stories.
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