Left to right: David Cookson (editor), Max Merckenschlager (judge), Veronica Cookson (editor), Jacqui Merckenschlager (judge), Sue O’Brien (Convenor)
Left to right: Stef Rozitis, Elaine Barker, Louise Nicholas, Charlie Madden, Helen Hutton, Meryl McDougall, Rob Ferris, Maria Vouis, Sue O’Brien
FSP is excited to announce that Anthology 47 was officially launched by in-coming Convenor, Sue O’Brien, at the monthly meeting on 1 May 2023.
Edited by Veronica and David Cookson, the anthology’s title, beyond the bend … , takes its name from a line in Torbay by contributing poet, Sharon Foulkes. The collection of over 100 poems thrilled the judges, Jacqui and Max Merckenschlager, who were at the launch to meet the winning and commended poets.
Anthology 47 is available for sale for $20 at any upcoming FSP event or it can be ordered on-line via the form below. [Click here to go directly to the form]
A huge thank you to the editors and judges for their time and commitment that made Anthology 47 possible. Congratulations to the winners whose poetry, in the words of the judges, ‘revealed a diversity of topics which will delight you.’
Congratulations to the winner of the Satura Prize, Helen Hutton for her poem For Grace and winner of the Nova Prize, Charlie Madden for his poem The Fly. You can read the prize winning poems below.
Commended poems for the Satura Prize were:
Elaine Barker: Tearaway
Rob Ferris: W H Auden
Helen Hutton: Washing Day
Helen Hutton: Lost in Oxford Circus Underground
Meryl McDougall: Jack Hurts Too
Louise Nicholas: Freesias
Maria Vouis: Greece — a Quintet
Commended poem for the Nova Prize was Stef Rozitis: The Mental Express
Satura Prize Winner
Helen Hutton
For Grace
Day hums turquoise crimson gold
hands entwined we hold up the sky
arpeggio breezes play on jetty boards —
and you say I’m not to miss you when you’re gone.
Reflections ripple in shallow rock pools
seagulls flap like love notes pinned against the wind
a chorus of clouds gathers round the cove —
and you say you know I don’t believe
but you can see the face of God.
Criss-crossed footsteps shuffle in the sand
late sunshine chases shadows on the dunes
your favourite place where I will not go again —
and you say I must take you home one more time.
Autumn’s final flush swirled on city streets
night rain wailed blue red blue
your last words spread across my cheeks —
I whispered stay stay stay but no one heard.
Nova Prize Winner
Charlie Madden
The Fly
There’s a fly on my knee.
It landed there a moment ago —
no radar, no landing lights
no traffic control.
Now it’s gone,
off and away,
a free soul,
…no one is telling it what to do.
It must have a soul
to be so free
and for that soul to be the catalyst
for all those countless equations
used in those flights,
chemistry, navigation,
geometry and meteorology —
to name just a few.
If I can’t even repair
one of its many joints,
or lubricate the odd wing fulcrum,
let alone begin to understand
how it flies like that,
or lands on the ceiling upside down —
I can’t do that.
What right have I
or what reason —
to swat it?
Order Anthology 47 here…