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Plumstead Poet Laureate 2019



The Old Mill, 1 Old Mill Road, Plumstead SE18 1QG
Tuesday 27th August from 8pm.

Thank you to all the poets that entered the competition and to you, the public, for coming along and voting on Finals night.

The Fourth

Plumstead Poet Laureate




Here is Erik Fuller reading Rob's winning poem, The Modern Conspiracy of Silence.


This year's Runner Up was Geoff Lander with his poem, Memory of Misfortune?

Third place went to Geoff Goodwin with Perhaps This Time

Runner Up Poem

Memory of Misfortune?

In an utterly frightening turn of events a
third of Americans saw fit to plump for
brick laying populist – Donald J Trump
and his running mate, racist Mike Pence.

You know the rightwingers, they won't be out done
they've chosen their darling and turbo-charged fool.
No need to ask where this goon went to school or
moved on to college, you'll get both in one.

For certain this country has gone to the dogs!
The rich old farts' rule. Can you tell how it grieves me? In
truth, I'm relieved, although no one believes me – it could have
been worse – have you seen the Rees-Moggs?

It's blond Captain Bluster, no, don't blow a fuse –
the status quo's front man and comedic stooge
and nothing's beyond him, his ego's so huge.
Memory or nightmare it isn't fake news.

The Winning Poem

The Modern Conspiracy of Silence

Lately they came for the EU,
And I did nothing because I didn't consider myself European.
They came for the Burkini,
And I didn't think I would wear a Burkini,
So I said nowt.
Then they came for the trade unions,
And I did fuck all because
The papers tell me the train drivers
Are lazy greedy bastards.
Then they came for the NHS,
And I hadn't been to the doctor lately,
So I kept schtum.
Then they gave Doctor Who a vagina,
And I went fucking ballistic.

Third Place Poem

Perhaps this time

It has always been one of my greatest ambitions
To win the Plumstead Poetry Competition

The first year I sent in two limericks
About an arty young man and local news topics
They were both fairly good, or that’s what I thought
But the judges fed back that they were too short
So now I know that length is a condition
If I want to win the Plumstead Poetry Competition

The second year my poem was five times longer
And I thought its chances were really much stronger
But the winner wrote about working in care
And working in care
Is a nightmare
The poet was there
He read it with flair He made us all care
About the lack of good care
The result it was fair
I wouldn’t dare
To say my poem was better
So now I know that good repetition
Can help you win the Plumstead Poetry Competition

Last year’s winner went to a metaphysical zoo
It was amusing in parts, but a bit weird too
I started a poem but I couldn’t end it
I just gave up and didn’t bother to send it
Everyone knows you must make a submission
If you want to win the Plumstead Poetry Competition

Now here we are another year gone
I need to get my thinking hat on
I need to try harder to finish this time I need to put clever words in a rhyme
I mustn’t get caught by my own inhibition
If I want to win the Plumstead Poetry Competition

So what do I need, what can I learn from the past? I need to get going and finish it fast
But it can’t be too short or it will get thrown out
And my hopes again will be blown out
I need some, but not too much, expedition
If I want to win the Plumstead Poetry Competition

I need a good subject, an interesting theme
But no bright idea has come to me in a dream
It’s not a question of which one to use
Because nothing at all has come from my muse
I’m starting to think there’s a predisposition
For me never to win the Plumstead Poetry Competition

I don’t have a parrot that says “shut that yat”
I don’t have a practical or impractical cat
Nothing startling has happened to me the last year
Let’s face it I don’t have a decent idea
I don’t think that anything will come to fruition
To help me win the Plumstead Poetry Competition

I can’t wait any more, there’s really no way
The deadline’s tonight, it’s due in today
Another year passes but all is not lost
I’ll rub my lucky horseshoe and keep fingers crossed
I’ll pin all my hopes on old time superstition
To help me win the Plumstead Poetry Competition

But perhaps I’ll look out for a more realistic ambition
Than winning the Plumstead Poetry Competition