L-R: Bronwyn welcomes everyone to University Bookshop; Councillor Marie Laufiso and Caselberg Trust Chair Janet Downs; University of Otago Press Editor, Rachel Scott reads Cilla McQueen’s judge's report; Lily Holloway reads her poem, ‘Letter I will never post’; Claire Beynon reads Brett Cross’s poem, ‘Each blackberry’; Rowan Taigel reads her poem, ‘Catch and kiss’; Peter Hayden reads John Looker’s poem, ‘Conversation with a Sea Lion’; a friend of Tim’s reads his winning poem, ‘Sparrows’; Jane Simpson recites her poem ‘Panegyric, back home from hospital’; Giles Graham reads his poem ‘His name doesn’t fit’; Deputy Mayor Christine Garey announces the winner of the new emerging writers residency; Megan Kitching is congratulated on becoming the inaugural recipient of the Elizabeth Brooke-Carr Emerging Writers Residency.

The Caselberg’s International Poetry Prize Awards Night was held at the University Bookshop on Tuesday 24 November 2020 — and here are the winning works.

First place went to Tim Upperton from Palmerston North for his poem Sparrows

Sparrows

by Tim Upperton

Seven plump sparrows pecking

at something in the grass—

they were having such a good time,

obviously, they were going for it,

and right then the best thing

would’ve been to be an eighth sparrow,

pecking at the ground with my friends,

eating I don’t know what—seeds?

But really enjoying myself,

these seeds are great, just great,

chucking them down, the sun

on my back, earth steady beneath

my clawed feet, and high in a tree a nest

I built myself and a mate to return to.

Giles Graham from Waimate received is Runner up for his poem His Name Doesn’t Fit

His Name Doesn’t Fit

by Giles Graham

Like his clothes, rolled into limbs tucked

Up into crevices, dressed in a heap.

Like the milk that gurgles, drools

And is spit in blobs of fist faced decision.

Like his cry, that washes out of his heart

And tries to rest in ours.

Like the world is too big.

I watch him struggle to pull it all vastly

Through

The five Highly Commended entries were: Panegyric, back home from hospital by Jane Simpson (Christchurch), Conversation with a sea lion by John Looker (UK), Letter I will never post by Lily Holloway (Auckland), Catch and kiss by Rowan Taigel (Dunedin), Each blackberry by Brett Cross (Mangitangi - Waikato)

Panegyric, back home from hospital

by Jane Simpson

Joy for the sun doing a run-

and-jump over the kwila fence,

bouncing up to greet me.

Joy for the sun licking

my face, behind the ears, the nape

of my neck, as I unlock the door.

Joy for the sun, for pins and needles

as I sit out the front in a strapless dress;

for the prickle of healing, the tremolo of clarinets.

Conversation with a Sea Lion

by John Looker

Hey, how you doing? Don’t worry

I’ll sit over here – like you, where the sand is dry.

I'll help you watch the tide.

I’m good thanks. Yes,

I like to come by after work when I can. I guess

I’m putting off getting back home.

You've a nice place here, with the dunes

and the stream from the hills behind.

No, I haven’t forgotten the sea.

Nor the rip that carries you out at your ease ...

I’ve noticed you always swim on your own

and withdraw up here to shelter alone in the lap of the cliffs.

I do have the family, true, and love them with all my heart

but sometimes here on the shore

watching the ocean stirring and arching its back

and the clouds pacing the sky

I begin to sense a thread of kinship with you.

This sound absurd?

It’s more to do with the sense of being, underneath it all, alone.

Beneath the bustle of work and the ceaseless interaction of family life

there's a certain stillness,

there’s a layer of deep undisturbable quiet:

a solitude like your own.

Or perhaps it's a feeling ... pervasive, imprecise ...

of being at one with the elemental world:

air and water; or atoms ... then the timeless aeons ...

But you’ve lowered your head to the slope of the sand

and look as though you’ll doze; perhaps I'll do the same.

We can lie beached like waka

and listen to the riddles of the sea;

there is no hurry to go.

Letter I will never post

by Lily Holloway

I am still grieving the thing you took

so suddenly in that night

when the streetlamps averted their gaze

when my hands got full of fence

when my teeth

were clenched

apartments

where do I place this bouquet of small shame

so diligently gathered?

in your mother’s laundry basket?

in an essay on midsummer night

dreaming?

do you carry a proud bag now

and may I ask what is in it?

a crumbling silk

or

tumbling skylines

or

a child in that

alcove?

Catch and Kiss

by Rowan Taigel

Before a bullrush of boys

she ran, elbows bent, palms

held vertical in surrender

and I followed her

our pathetic zigzagging

a sexy self-sabotage

glancing back over our shoulders

lips glossed pink like secrets

bangles jingling on electrified arms

she “tripped” before I knew it

and as I overshot her mark

my shoulders braced, anticipating

hands, fingers, hot breath, mouths

I slowed and turned, alone.

Arms and legs pinned into

the rucked grass, her throat

giggled as the cutest boy in school

planted his lips over hers

the primal white of her eyes

just like our wild mare’s

in the back paddock before dad

broke her in

after they let her up, we ran

away towards the classroom

away from the backdrop of

cheers and high fives

panting, she told me how lucky

she felt that he’d kissed her

my mouth moved with a girl’s voice

I no longer knew,

So lucky, I said...

so lucky.

each blackberry

by Brett Cross

each blackberry
clump

of tiny plump
balloons
showman holds the strings
hands them to the kid

dot the hedge
some black

some red
most dry and underdone
avoids the cow shit
and reflection

picks what she can
bottom of the tray

barely covered
returns home
doesn’t desire
to stack apple crates

to a mountain
dissect the clumps

beyond the joy
of picking in the dusk
in the spiked hedge
with her old man

READ THE 2020 WINNING POEMS...