Crabbe

Crabbe

Crabbe entry

Caterpillars - Caroline Price

The George Crabbe Memorial Poetry Competition

1993 Crabbe Memorial Competition - First Prize
Adjudicators: Andrew Motion, Anthony Thwaite

It is the season. They are on the move
again, an emerald army shrugging glutted bodies

from the fields of old rape opposite. For days
they cross the road, undulating, like slow water;

penetrate any needle's eye in your neat hedge.
And close in on the climb of stippled white-

While you, inside, are gradually possessed,
seeing wherever you turn the groping prolegs,

Ode to Dr Peter Mark Roget - Marjorie Carter

The George Crabbe Memorial Poetry Competition

1992 Crabbe Memorial Competition - First Prize
Adjudicators: D.J. Enright, Elizabeth Bartlett

I love you, Dr Roget......
no, that's not right, you don't deserve cliché.....

I'm partial to you, value you, hold you dear,
I'm nuts about you, got it bad, I dote —
or is that taking things a bit too far?

I only know life would be incomplete
(inadequate, half-baked) without you near,
and can't imagine (fancy, fabricate
or improvise) a world where you aren't here.

The Wasps' Nest - Joyce I Watson

The George Crabbe Memorial Poetry Competition

1991 Crabbe Memorial Competition - First Prize
Adjudicators: Jon Silkin, William Radice

The last leaves drift to settle on the field,
I walk the sodden orchard melancholy.
High in the branches of an ancient pear
A papery, pale, lantern shape's revealed &emdash;
A wasps' nest, visible now twigs are bare:
The old queen's palace and abandoned city.

Housing Aid - Joan Galwey

The George Crabbe Memorial Poetry Competition

1988 Crabbe Memorial Competition - First Prize
Adjudicators: Donald Davie, Ronald Blythe

Oh God, it's Miss T., flouncing through the waiting room.
Gasp and cluck follow her."Well I must say!"
"Who's she? The cat's mother?" Mix of pee and powder.
Uninterceptible. "Where's Mrs J ?"

Jewels - Francis Engleheart

The George Crabbe Memorial Poetry Competition

1957 Crabbe Memorial Competition - First Prize
Adjudicators:
John Hadfield, T.R. Henn

Half in the lake I pause and stand.
I may not move to launch away,
But in the shallows stare and stay
Between the water and the land.

Here, where the floating lily lies,
Where grasses bend above the pool,
The air is lustrous with the cool
Fragility of dragonflies,