Stand aside Keats and Byron, here comes George

24 Aug 2018

Limericks and ballads, rhyming couplets and blank verse.

It was all on offer at National Poetry Day on Friday 24 August when our poets came out in force to contest the first Christ’s College annual poetry competition.

Judge Conor McGillon, English tutor and Oxford University graduate, had the tough task of choosing from the meaningful verse and spirited performances fittingly delivered from on top of the book in Upham Quad, to an appreciative and vocal crowd.

With entries exceeding expectations, the field was split into student and staff sections, George Gearry taking first prize with his story poem “Fear”, second going to Joshua Stevenson for “Ode to Winter” and third to Thimeth Wijesinghe for “Bound.” Ms Emma Bracken won the staff section with “W308 Sunday Afternoon.”

HoD English Sian Evans congratulated all entrants for taking part.

“Poetry allows us to engage in a new way. It’s the oldest form of literature, and a unique language form that allows us to say things we might otherwise be embarrassed or reticent to say. It’s not easy to bear your heart and soul and I applaud all who took part.”

Judge Conor McGillon said it was privilege to judge the first College poetry contest, whose entries were of the highest quality.


by George Gearry

Rising tides, crashing skies
An ocean made of lead
The Russian doll screams
Screams within his head

The ocean pulls, an evil rift
At last! a boat in sight
But nesting doll is at the wheel
And storms forth into night

Vicious cycle, endless ebb
Round and round he goes
A carousel of yesteryear
The hopeless horror of flows

With every twist and every turn
A new horror evoked
And watching on is the doll
Enjoying every choke

Mercury swells, lifts him up
Above the pounding seas
Nesting doll is waiting there
Perhaps, a chance to seize

Reaching out, pulling strong
Off the layer comes
A shield of ice forms within
The fear begins to numb

Seize the moment! try again!
The voice inside him cries
Focusing all his inner strength
Away the layer flies

One to go, he stops to breathe
And steels to make his move
With one last roar he rips it off
Nothing left to prove

Within the shell an infant lies
All the fear could be
And with a thought he ends the babe
Quiets pounding seas

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