Released: 07.05.09

UCP Marjon recently held their first Poetry Competition, which was judged by the Creative Writing team at the University College, who are all published authors.  The competition targeted students in Further Education and aspiring writers in the region with a view to identifying, encouraging and celebrating talented writers of poetry in the area.

The winner of UCP Marjon’s Poetry Competition 2009 is Samantha Fraser, currently at Tavistock College, who received her winning cheque for £100 from the judges for her poem ‘Shrapnel’; second place was Nicholas Chow, currently at Stoke Damerel Community College, who received a cheque for £60 for ‘A Tale of Love’.  Third place winner Amy Brownlee, is currently at Tamarside Community College, and won a cheque for £40 for her poem ‘Deceived’.

The judges especially liked the winning poem’s effective use of detailed imagery to represent and personalise the historical figure of Henry Shrapnel, and the way it links, evocatively, general childhood experience – to which many readers will readily relate – with specific fact.

Our winner Samantha Fraser said:

“Winning the competition has been a real confidence booster in terms of my own writing and that perhaps English grades are not the best judges of abilities! I would like to thank my English teacher who set the homework to write the poem and to say that if you enjoy something then stick with it!

“UCP Marjon will now look to follow up the success of our first Poetry Competition with a Short Story Competition for 2010.

Winning poem:

Shrapnel

The sun shines, caressing her hair as it
Blows innocence in the wind,
You remember playing here, as a child on the Wiltshire hills,
Your heart swells as your daughter
Smiles at you, father.

The sun does not penetrate the place you work in,
An inventor’s labyrinth of tools and oil, no place for a child,
Skilled hands creating a weapon
To pierce the flesh
And make your name immortal.

A child, her red stained hair blows
Shattered innocence in the wind,
Crying tears that cascade through time,
A mother’s wails, echoing throughout history.

When you later receive money in recognition
Of your skilled hands’ labours
Does the paper turn to blood
And run through your repulsed hands?
Or, are you proud? for you are immortal.

But at what price?
Your name is not that of a boy playing on the Wiltshire hills,
And a father loving, loved,
Your name is pain,
Shrapnel
Henry Shrapnel.