In Still This Need, published by Heaventree Press, Michael McKimm explores the complex beauty of the world we live in, and how we try to understand our place in it. Michael has read at Ledbury Poetry Festival, Scotland’s StAnza Festival and the Féile na Gréine in Co. Kerry. He won an Eric Gregory Award in […]
Winning poems are to the right of this page. 2001 was the first year the Foyle Foundation sponsored the Young Poets of the Year competition. The judges were Amanda Dalton and Stephen Knight. Commended Poets Liz Adams, Showkat Ali, Amy Ashcroft-Jones, Amber Austin, Steph Barry, Gemma Batty, Anna Bessenich, Katie Boswell, Imogen Burne, Sarah Carlin, […]
“Every Singaporean Matters” –government slogan The woman at the mouth of the MRT station is hard not to notice. We want to hold her hand, drift towards her siren-voice wailing in Hokkien. Her with the withered white hair, with crumpled face and clothes. But we turn away, too embarrassed to buy her garish kiddie […]
I have never worked on grass so sharp that it cuts into my feet like glass. under a sun so hot that the soles of my trainers melted welding me to the ground hanging in a sky so empty so spotlessly bare that I can see solar systems wood pigeons are still, […]
for Bill and Ben On a normal day, you’d see my stalk quiver towards the moss-free flowerpots which I live behind. But underneath, there’s the legful haze of my crazy roots encountering worms. The furious tingle, of spread-eagling round bricks and buried stones oval and sea-formed in perfection – my treasure. My ambition? To […]
Spring 2001 Was it just sea cows peacefully suckling? When scurvy set in they carried on, until even the captain lay below, his gums red and swollen in his dry face. And then the wind died. Long, long days of the sail sagging. Thin and weak they sprawled on the deck dreaming […]
And next door At number 30, A pig-tailed six year old, Freckled and “angelic” Thinks of dolls houses, Chocolate, And a world take over bid…… The moon, Hangs in the sky, As you walk, Through the sheeting drizzle, Glinting in the light Cast from pink streetlights, Suspended down the nameless street They live, […]
“Go and catch a falling star; Get with child a mandrake root” –Song (Go and catch a falling star), John Donne He spends his days working in the fields, sweating in the wheat’s pale gold. When I go to the well or call the children from their play, I see his back dipping and […]
We have lived here for centuries, Ginger and me. Pressed close between the dust-sheets, We wait for my Robert to return. I pretend to make tea at six. Pretend. Just think about it, In case, by chance, he might Walk in find me unprepared. Ginger chases spiders, he Crushes and crunches Their black ooze […]
A humming bird treads an invisible thread researching the leafless ground below; a dissertation on silence. You send balloons up, haemoglobin bubbles in the sky dispersing sudden thoughts like Apollo’s limbs – maybe you do not want to be alone now, (after that first fatal wish) wait for the card to be returned; […]
He’s sitting in his comfy chair, Shouting orders at unsuspecting young cargo workers He hides me in the double bunk, Behind the freezer, With the cans of tinned beans, Me, 7 years old, Listening to his great “Boogie-Woogie” CD, At 6 in the morning, His old Teddy Duck, Sitting faithfully on his […]
I need to change the sheets on my bed. They are thicker, less soft, than they were. I need to brush my hair and go for a walk, and I need to put the plastic bag in the bin to a recycling place, and I need to put ample milk on my breakfast, staring at […]
it cannot be denied that the fields and forests have their minds – after all, morning dew does mix with earth, and they are fields of rain. and the hens and cockerels, they have to defecate somewhere. it is also true that such simple happiness here is often found in thatched houses (that […]
Today’s homework: write your life story. Well I was born in Langdon, Essex. July 13th, almost fourteen years ago. My name is Patrick, although, my Dad preferred Darren. That’s about it. The detention room is like a greenhouse. No windows open, just glass letting the June afternoon heat toast us.
Luke’s pamphlet The Pair of Scissors That Could Cut Anything was published by The Rialto in 2013. He has been published in The North, THE SHOp, Smiths Knoll and The Rialto among others, and on the London Underground. In 2015 he was named a winner of the Poetry Business Pamphlet prize, with The Flemish Primitives. […]
Charlotte is a page and performance poet whose work has featured in The Cadaverine, Staple, The Frogmore Papers and elsewhere. Her audio collection Body Politic was published by Dead Ink in 2012. Charlotte was a Foyle Young Poet of the Year in 2001.
Helen Mort was born in Sheffield. She is a five times winner of Foyle Young Poets of the Year. Her first full-length collection, Division Street (Chatto & Windus, 2013) was shortlisted for the Costa Prize and the T.S. Eliot Prize and, in 2014, won the Fenton Aldeburgh Prize. In 2014 she was chosen as one […]
Caleb Klaces’ pamphlet All Safe All Well was published in 2011 by Flarestack. He was shortlisted for the 2011 Crashaw Prize and won the inaugural Melita Hume Poetry Prize in 2012 with his book Bottled Air, which will be published in 2013. Caleb’s poetry has appeared in Granta, The Manchester Review, Stand and Eyewear Publishing’s […]
Judith Huang is a winner of Foyle Young Poets of the Year 2001, 2003 and 2004.
It sweeps on for miles, it seems, This creature, of green depth, Green shadow, and green gold, For miles, its bulk, heavy with pines, And lightened only by snatches of pale sun, In clearings, and in the movement of branches, Seems to stretch…. There are places, Near the heart of this creature, Where you […]
A large muffin of a man Leans against a grimy signpost Swathed in a toffee coloured duffel coat Speckled with tears of rain, His coal black hair is slicked behind scarlet ears And a thin snake tongue licks pursed lips. Slitted eyes narrow dangerously as, Glancing at a silver watch Strapped tightly around his podgy […]
Who would think that you, a lazy gambler, could hide those sort of secrets in your curled black hair. Dusty roads, trodden by those who would stab your honest son and burn down your farm, forged from blood, sweat and tears. From under the wiry mosquito nets, I remember stumbling out and knocking from you […]