1st Prize -
Kaleidoscope
The flavours of the world are sticky
sweets in Newham’s pockets
Three miles from the City of London
in the womb of the East End
Newham sits on the bend of the River
pregnant with 365 languages and dialects
Bengali
Greek
Yoruba
Patois
Cockney
Watching her belly swell each day
a shifting scene
Today I walk
through East Ham High Street
Travel the globe in an hour
smelling the fresh aromas of
Dhal
Falafel
Jollof rice
Jerk chicken
Pie ’n’ Mash
I flare my nostrils to take it all in
like a hippopotamus yawning
Eatery lights flash at me
sunlight on silver and gold
I buy into them all
burning cultures on my tongue
This kaleidoscope swirl of tastes
holds nations in my mouth
as if my saliva were the Oceans
Jamal Msebele ©2006
2nd Prize -
The Cliff
Where the pink thrift
Bursts out from the bristly grass,
Where the jagged rocks cut the smooth surface of the sea,
As it stretches out to the darkened islands,
With the sun dipping behind, its orange rays exploding around them;
In the light of the setting sun a cove is uncovered,
Its treasures revealed as the oyster catchers with their orange beaks go home.
The one-footed gull takes off to escape the incoming tide,
The fulmars settle into the cliffs that fall into the sea.
A wave of salty air crashes over you as you sit there.
A great black-backed gull rises,
Its sharp eye looking for something to eat.
Its hard cry pierces the cold air.
Some more circle like vultures
They too are looking for food to feed their hungry chicks.
If you take a step back you can hear the skylark's song.
Out to sea a fishing boat is bobbing up and down in time with the waves.
Flashing out from the cliffs comes falcon.
Speeding upwards through the air currents
Its pointed wing tips seeming to hardly move.
When it sees what it is looking for - a pigeon -
It folds up its wings and dives.
Before it hits it starts to spin
Catching its prey in the air with its talons
Then trying not to let go
Then within a second it's gone into the rock.
People walking by, not knowing, not caring,
Maybe thinking it's a kestrel.
The falcon is so secretive you'd be lucky to see it once in a lifetime
Let alone once a day.
But when you finally catch a glimpse it's worth it.
You see the rock that looks like a face
Well it's just to the right and up a bit.
It's there! It's there!
Sarah Stewart-Watson ©2006
3rd Prize -
My Bike Jumps
8 hours a day, 7 days a week
Under the thick leafy green
With gaps filled by blinding blue
At my bike jumps.
All my friends arrive
After a long almost endless chain
Of phone calls.
Then the day really begins.
We talk of many things,
Like, the vicious barbed wire fence
And the way it seems like
Another horizon between us and the Rest of the world.
From there on is unknown
A “no man’s” land.
But one day we will venture on,
Far on. And no one will stop us.
Looking around you see
The tricks of earth.
A massive gap in the land
Seems to have disappeared.
Then WHOOSH down
Into the supposed nothing and almost
Immediately they emerge on the other side.
A dip can confuse the mind.
The smooth curves of the jumps catch the eye,
Standing out from the surroundings.
Over one some one goes not creating a sound.
Swooping round the berm he comes back
For another attempt.
And so the day goes on,
Until the gaps in the trees
Start to be filled by a dark grey.
As the hours of light vanish
We have to flee.
But we will be back tomorrow.
Michael Deeks ©2006