[Jayne Osborn]

I must give a gentle reminder to please read the rules, folks, before you actually submit your entries. This one would be disqualified as it exceeds the '40 lines max'.

[Julie Steiner]

I'm not so sure this is a great idea, John and Jayne.

How would you feel if you entered a poetry contest that had promised blind judging...but the judges had a means of identifying which entries came from folks who were members of the same brass band (or cat fanciers' club, or what have you) to which they, too, belonged?

Even if the judges couldn't be sure exactly which member of their own clique had sent in which poem...wouldn't you object that the judging had not truly been blind, but only myopic?

We've frequently complained on Eratosphere about contests that supposedly had blind judging, but the winner just coincidentally turned out to be someone the judge knows...a former student, say, or the editor of a journal that often publishes the judge's work. This coincidence is probably due to a shared affinity for a certain style of work, of course, but the losers always suspect something more sinister. And a thread such as this one would be considered damning evidence of premeditated intent to keep the prize in the family, so to speak.

If Sphereans should be well-represented in the winners' circle (as well they might), and the judges' participation on this thread comes to light, how do you think the non-Spherean contestants might explain that coincidence?

Just sayin' it smells a bit off.

[John Whitworth]

I see what you are saying, Julie, but the same problem obtains in ANY competition over here, since the Brit poetry world is a small place, and the South East England poetry world - where many of the competitions I have judged are organised, is still smaller. I have quite often suspected (and quite often found my suspicions to be correct) the identity of a contestant. And, frankly, any poem of mine entered for a competition might smell strongly of Whitworth, which might be to my advantage, or might not. As for Spherians being among the winners, I hope they are, but it will be by merit unless currency notes are slipped in my direction and, alas, I don't think that will get under the wire.

Spherians consistently win Speccie competitions and Lucy could often recognise where they come from. She knows all about this thread. But, as far as I can see, she doen't allow this knowledge to have any bearing on her choices.

Have I ever known/suspected the provenance of a poem and given it a prize? Yes I have. Does that bother me? No it doesn't.

And finally, the only Spherian I actually know (I mean I have met) is Sam Gwynn. Whereas I know many of the people who will enter this competition from over here. And some of them I quite like.

[Martin Parker]

I am with Julie in thinking that this is, perhaps, a not entirely proper matter for a thread though perhaps for a different reason.

A poem that has been heavily workshopped surely can no longer claim to be entirely the work of the author (of the rest of it!). This should surely disqualify it from eligibility for entry to a competition -- most of which require that entries are solely the work of he/she who submits it.

People who want to win comps. should learn by reading the work of those who already can and do, and thus develop the skill and confidence to submit their OWN work. Minor suggestions by friends may be ok; but committee-type workshopping of comp. entries is, for me, bordering on misrepresentation as well as being all too likely to produce the proverbial lumpy camel rather than an elegant horse.

I suspect this theory will not go down well on a site which goes in for a lot of serious workshopping. But I have raised my head over the parapet -- with tin hat in place -- and await incoming fire!

[Jayne Osborn]

John and I have, naturally, discussed this very issue, and we're in complete agreement that the poems we award prizes to will be judged entirely on their merit.

There is an elderly lady poet of my acquaintance who wins LOTS of poetry comps. She doesn't own a computer and all her entries are type-written, in exactly the same layout - and honestly, I know I could pick out an entry by her out of tens of thousands! She'll be entering this comp; she always has. If her poem is the best it will win, and I won't be swayed because I know who wrote it.

As for workshopping them, how many poems have been workshopped on the sphere and gone on to win prizes/be published? No-one has ever said (to my knowledge) that they aren't eligible because they've got a word or phrase suggested by someone else.
Come on, folks, stop nit-picking about this.

John and I are full of integrity, which you don't need to question, I promise!
If you don't trust us to do the job properly, then don't enter. On the other hand, if you want to take part, have no worries about posting your poems here, via Maryann (whose endorsement counts for a lot, surely?).

Hope this puts your minds at rest.

Edited in: We'll just steer clear of this thread if you wish; you can always PM with any queries etc. Or just submit your poems directly to the administrator if you'd rather not post here. Do please enter, though - and good luck!

[Maryann Corbett]

Here's another entry. It can't hurt to comment, friends.


Elegy for Brayton


Who can I trade my faking with?
Who knows the label Frankie Lane was on?
I miss (this is nuts!) your yip-yipping squeal,
Your killer sex appeal:
Your blue eyes, true lies, rakish and sweet are gone.

Your spazoid passes, your klutzy catch!
Your piercing gaze: You ladies, come-on!
You drove for us (drunk and screaming)
You—sober--beaming:
Your blue eyes, true lies, rakish and sweet are gone.

Your Everly tenor sometimes cracked.
We tongue picked on Folsom Prison,
Pumping our chests with your rusted weights
To stay the grizzly gates.
Your blue eyes, true lies, rakish and sweet are gone.

I’ve been down rivers and I’ve been down streams,
But, son, you were something, and you flow on,
ki-yi-yippy in that yodeling whine.
You walked a lonely, lonely line.
Your blue eyes, true lies, rakish and sweet are gone.

[George Simmers]

Frankie Laine, surely, rather than Lane.
Strange poem.

[Spindleshanks]

Originally Posted by Maryann Corbett

Here's another entry. It can't hurt to comment, friends.


Elegy for Brayton


Who can I trade my faking with?
Who knows the label Frankie Lane was on?
I miss (this is nuts!) your yip-yipping squeal,
Your killer sex appeal:
Your blue eyes, true lies, rakish and sweet are gone.

Your spazoid passes, your klutzy catch!
Your piercing gaze: You ladies, come-on!
You drove for us (drunk and screaming)
You—sober--beaming:
Your blue eyes, true lies, rakish and sweet are gone.

Your Everly tenor sometimes cracked.
We tongue picked on Folsom Prison,
Pumping our chests with your rusted weights
To stay the grizzly gates.
Your blue eyes, true lies, rakish and sweet are gone.

I’ve been down rivers and I’ve been down streams,
But, son, you were something, and you flow on,
ki-yi-yippy in that yodeling whine.
You walked a lonely, lonely line.
Your blue eyes, true lies, rakish and sweet are gone.

It doesn't hurt to comment, true, but it does hurt to read. It's adventurous, pushes the envelope, and if that's the objective, to my mind it succeeds too well. Sorry, I would like to be more positive and offer something constructive, but it loses me.

Peter