Poem of the Week

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Chatting To The Driver

We have recently published a book using winning and other entries from the Poem Of The Week competition.

Click on the picture for purchase information.

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Poem of the Week will now also be judged by a guest reviewer each week

Below are a selection of poems that have been submitted for poem of the week. Each week a guest reviewer will choose the winner and that poem will be highlighted for the following week and stored on the Archive Page. Every three months a special book will be published celebrating the winning poems for that period plus a selection of other poetry chosen by Lin and guest reviewers. If you'd like to be the guest reviewer one week, then please contact Lin here

Submitting poetry for Poem of the Week

We accept poems of all types for this weekly event but do reserve the right to refuse to enter any poem that does not meet up to Mad Jock Publishers decency requirements. To enter a poem, just click on the link below and type the title and body of the poem in your e-mail. You will also need to add this line to your e-mail: "This poem is my poem and is not copyrighted by any other poet." If you would like your picture to go alongside your poem, then please attach a picture file with your e-mail. Submit poem here

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Poem of the Week is administered by Lin Priest.
Lin is the author of 2 Mad Jock Publishers publications.

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Winner Week 32
Guest judge Rols Sperling chose the winner of the thirty-second week's poem of the week as Steph Spiers. See it here.

Winner Week 31
Guest judge Verona Winn chose the winner of the thirty-first week's poem of the week as Mary Merry-weather Travis. See it here.

Winner Week 30
Guest judge Bobbie chose the winner of the thirtieth week's poem of the week as Steph Spiers. See it here.

Winner Week 29
Guest judge Laura Stephenson chose the winner of the twenty-ninth week's poem of the week as Ktarcus. See it here.

Winner Week 28
Guest judge Donna Parkinson chose the winner of the twenty-eighth week's poem of the week as Shelley Lofthouse. See it here.

Winner Week 27
Guest judge Jin chose the winner of the twenty-seventh week's poem of the week as Donna Parkinson. See it here.

Winner Week 26
Guest judge Bobbie chose the winners of the twenty-sixth week's poem of the week as Verona Winn and Donna Parkinson. See it here.

Winner Week 25
Guest judge Angee Edgar chose the winners of the twenty-fifth week's poem of the week as Grandniem and Donna Parkinson. See it here.

Winner Week 24
Guest judge Shelley Lofthouse chose the winner of the twenty-forth week's poem of the week as Steph Spiers. See it here.

Winner Week 23
Guest judge Steph Spiers chose the winner of the twenty-third week's poem of the week as Grandniem. See it here.

Winner Week 22
Guest judge Donna Parkinson chose the winners of the twenty-second week's poem of the week as Angee Edgar and Bobbie. See it here.

Winner Week 21
Guest judge Rols Sperling chose the winner of the twenty-first week's poem of the week as Angee Edgar. See it here.

Winner Week 20
Guest judge Carl Harris chose the winner of the nineteenth week's poem of the week as Sheridan Whitehead. See it here.

Winner Week 19
Guest judge Keith Bickerstaffe chose the winner of the nineteenth week's poem of the week as Steph Spiers. See it here.

Winner Week 18
Guest judge Mary Merryweather-Travis chose the winner of the eighteenth week's poem of the week as Shelley Lofthouse. See it here.

Winner Week 17
Guest judge Sandra Sperling chose the winner of the seventeenth week's poem of the week as Alan Peat. See it here.

Winner Week 16
Guest judge Mick Blamire chose the winner of the sixteenth week's poem of the week as Angee Edgar. See it here.

Winner Week 15
Guest judge Laura Stephenson chose the winner of the fifteenth week's poem of the week as Laura Davey. See it here.

Winner Week 14
Guest judge Bob Kirke chose the winner of the fourteenth week's poem of the week as Laura Stephenson. See it here.

Winner Week 13
Guest judge Jeff Howe chose the winner of the thirteenth week's poem of the week as Doherty. See it here.

Winner Week 12
After counting all the votes the winner of the twelfth week's poem of the week is Laura Stephenson. See it here.

Winner Week 11
After counting all the votes the winner of the eleventh week's poem of the week is Steph Spiers. See it here.

Winner Week 10
After counting all the votes the winner of the tenth week's poem of the week is Ben Shevlin. See it here.

Winner Week 9
After counting all the votes the winner of the ninth week's poem of the week is Philippa Jane Cooper. See it here.

Winner Week 8
After counting all the votes the winner of the eighth week's poem of the week is Pip Travis. See it here.

Winner Week 7
After counting all the votes the winner of the seventh week's poem of the week is Steph Spiers. See it here.

Winner Week 6
After counting all the votes the winner of the sixth week's poem of the week is Mary Merryweather. See it here.

Winner Week 5
After counting all the votes the winner of the fifth week's poem of the week is Claire Seaman. See it here.

Winner Week 4
After counting all the votes the winner of the fourth week's poem of the week is Alan Peat. See it here.

Winner Week 3
After counting all the votes the winner of the third week's poem of the week is Donna Parkinson. See it here.

Winner Week 2
After counting all the votes the winner of the second week's poem of the week is Kazy. See it here.

Winner Week 1
After counting all the votes the winner of the first week's poem of the week is Eddie Lundon. See it here.

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Week 33 - 11th - 17th October 2008 - Entries

This weeks guest judge will be Shelia Close

Rambling Incompetence by ktarcus

Have I stumbled into some twilight world,
that bids me do not enter.
Is it death that's lying on the floor,
like some tired and wasted placenta

Have the crows my eyes relieved me of,
is my rainbow now mangled hues.
Or like whispering shadows of oily skin,
Can I only espy my muse?

I grow wary of incompetence,
my own exceeds them all.
Now off to bed I'll weary go,
I'm likely now to fall.

Against the blood-stained walls of peace
I rattle off my saber.
Let no man sleep sound in his bed,
till we can love our neighbour.

I Want Her Back by Alan Peat

Now that her mourners have dispersed,
In black bound knots,
Each to their separate ways,
I stand alone before this open wound,
Of rain soaked clay,
And take some time to pray.

Please God, if I with pure strength imbued,
Could push the sweeping hands of Time away,
Turn clocks so night would now precede the day,
Make mankind in reverse decay,
Watch old grow young again,
I’d break the bonds that Mother Nature’s made,
Where now her broken body,
Captive lays.

And then, with just a gentle touch,
My moistened lips with tender kiss,
Upon the dry would crush,
Make breath expel from silent lungs into the air,
And sight returned to lifeless eyes,
Which for a while have gazed upon eternity,
Would now look into mine once more.

Or maybe I could pay a ransom due,
Buy back her life,
Move Earth and Heaven too,
Prostrate myself before the stars,
Make vocal my appeal against the fortunes of mortality,
And testify the dedication of my cause,
To bring her back for just one hour,
This gift my one reward.

With futile resignation I raise my face,
Let tears and raindrops mark this place,
Where depths of utter grief
Have tested my beliefs,
And found all vestiges of consolation wanting.
To say again as shadows fall across my path;
I want her back;
I simply want her back.

Plastic Bag Blues by Steph Spiers

Who’d have thought carrying a plastic bag
could be as anti-social as having a fag?

Rejected like a Tibetan prayer flag
flapping in the branches of a tree,
while all they ever do is nag
on about having to pay a wretched 5p.

Who’d have thought carrying a plastic bag
could be as anti-social as having a fag?

Spare a thought for the humble plastic bag,
a pariah for doing its bit for landfill.
Giving its all with handles that sag,
Struggling ’n mauling shopping up hill.

Who’d have thought carrying a plastic bag
could be as anti-social as having a fag?

Suspended from a thousand pushchairs,
’n ridiculed by artwork from many a Wag
in advertising, displayed on moving stairs,
while the butt of wisecracks from men in drag.

Who’d have thought carrying a plastic bag
could be as anti-social as having a fag?

Superseded, replaced by stout canvas and rag
an end to eco-loathing from night until morn.
No more rips and tatters from every jag,
a fitting end to being crumpled, sworn at and torn.

Who’d have thought carrying a plastic bag
could be as anti-social as having a fag?

A Special Journey by Bobbie

Three wise men followed a star
It guided them through lands afar
They travelled by day and night
Guided by that shining, bright light
The notion came in a dream
To visit a newborn King, who always reign supreme.

Then suddenly, the star's movement stopped
It rested over an inn's stable block
The men presented the baby with special things
Which foretold what the baby's life would bring
It was the best moment they'd ever know
Although their journey would cause such strife
It was one they would remember all their lives.

Now, we are like those three men
At our birth, our star rises
And brings with it plenty of surprises!
We follow our star wherever it goes
But there is something I really want to know
When our star finally falters and descends
What will we find at our journey's end?

Morning's Yawn by Christine Doyle

Clear dewy crystals cling to silken strands,
precariously hang in patterned grace.
Untouched, this masterpiece of nature stands,
yet soon it will be gone without a trace.
Should lone incumbent of this dwelling, wake
and stretch his many legs in morning's yawn,
then from fine threads the dewdrops he will shake,
thus disappearing into forest's lawn.
If he should sleep quite motionless abed,
the beauty cast between two boughs will stay,
at least until the heat from sun is bled
and vaporises droplets clean away.
How glistens pearly web in picture fine;
a miracle upon a silken line.

Controlled by Jin

No one really knows
and if I tell – no one would believe?
There's nothing I can do
Coz this is me and not you

It's better this way
coz the pain inside
is only mine

And if I tell
the pain is shared
and this heart of mine
Will be loud and heard

For my life is not mine
And soul no mould
My life is told by others
And so much controlled

I ask but one thing
And that would be
please hold me
In your arms so caringly
So I can feel not so cold

Essence of Angels by Grandniem

Here in this stoic place of quiet
peace, exists emerald green lushness,
within a sphere of leafy dense forest
and a floor of verdant delight, just
beneath it's canopy. Beyond the trees
is a dazzling radiance, that shines
through their very branches. Every
tree is as though it were a dancer,
standing perfectly motionless with
their backs arched and heads held
high, while their arms are held
loosely behind them. Facing the
most exhilarating white beams that
seem to form around their shapes,
it gives them an overwhelming
essence of angels. Light is cast to
the ground just past them, as if,
in great benevolence to a deity.
This
beautiful sight is truly
magnificent to behold.
A chapel of living green
foliage with pure radiance
streaming through open
portals, kissing the
earth,
in exaltation!

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Submit poem here

Archive Page.

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Other pages:

Poem of the Week

Bob Taylor And The Alien

Dead Relics

God Speaks - No - God SHOUTS In This Book