Congratulations to the winners and runners-up of our inaugural Poetry Prize! Thank you to everybody who entered. We were truly impressed with the number of entries and their calibre: there are clearly many poets in our community and we're so glad you shared your insights and talents with us. Heartfelt thanks to our guest judge, poet Ren Alessandra.
Primary Category
Winner: Isolation by Rhashidi Brown
Isolation mek mi black
mi feel lonely widout mi friends
and mi wonder if it will end
mi see chestnut trees
and beetroot leaves
isolation mek mi black.
Mi nah know,
mi nah know,
if this feeling will gweh.
The town is silky grey
and mi can only see a ray
of light
isolation mek mi black.
Gloomy head
pon mi bed,
babies crying inna di night,
tuck dem in tight
isolation mek mi black.
Runner Up: Jane's Day by Bree Wild-Green
Runner Up: My Favourite Kind of Afternoon by Neve Waterson
Secondary Category
Winner: Tired by Samahdi Reed
Heaviness behind my eyelids.
Fogginess in my brain.
Sluggish thoughts oozing.
Like half dried silicon on a window pane.
An opaque curtain shrouds me.
My eyes look without seeing.
Unseen sources draw from depleting energy stores.
Whilst I struggle for something freeing.
I am a battery.
Powering a light bulb.
Powering many.
But soon I will be powering none.
And then it will be dark.
Adult Category
Winner: Oysters by Beth Merindah
Beneath those great birthing trees,
where red river gums spat yolk
on tussock, the Western Highway roared.
Oyster flesh was buried beneath mosques,
temples for oestrogen lost,
and mollusc membranes shed —
hallowed. Their prayers could rest
between the nubile breast,
and sappy breath
of partisans. Chalk pardons from cleft lips:
that bled and bled and bled.
The inheritance of women —
oysters nestled between bent knees. Crying —
‘The world is watching women’s business!’
they grieve and grieve and grieve.
Stillborn, and still
embedded in my folded womb-flesh.
Pressing fingertips into sweetsop skin,
tiny oyster. Cutting teeth,
budding pearl, pitting gums —
blood red.
A sapling took root in the basalt plains,
drinking deep, starving sinkholes
and the riverbed
until all that was left,
(holy holy holy)
oxidised and occidental,
washed into the Yarra.
The inheritance of women —
oysters nestled between bent knees. Crying,
Mother! Maker! Grandmother!
they grieve and grieve and grieve.
Runner Up: I Know What I Have Got by Richard Hauptmann
Runner Up: Fears by Andrew Darling
School Prize: Badger Creek Primary School
