Rialto Magazine Nature Poetry Competition 2013
This week The Rialto magazine begins a call for entries for its second Nature Poetry Competition.
The competition is run in partnership with the RSPB, and will be judged by poet and broadcaster Ruth Padel.
The poetry magazine and Europe’s largest conservation charity are encouraging poets to submit work in response to the competition theme
‘Nature Poetry’.
Prizes: 1st Prize £1000, 2nd Prize £400, 3rd Prize a place on a creative writing course at National Writers’ Centre Ty Newydd in Wales in 2014.
Publication in The Rialto,
A personal tour with Mark Cocker of his most cherished wildlife places in East Anglia.
Entry fee: £6 for the first poem and £3 for each subsequent poem.
The closing date for entries is 30 September 2013
RSPB organiser, Matthew Howard said;
“Poets have always written about the natural world and this competition is a way for them to take a direct step to work
for the wellspring that provides so much inspiration. Creative engagement with our shared environment is ever-more
important, particularly at a time when the state of nature is under such pressures from the way we live our lives.”
Editor Michael Mackmin said;
“The judges will give a very wide interpretation to our theme of 'nature poetry'. The competition will help raise funds to support RSPB.
It will also raise the profile of contemporary poetry and The Rialto with new audiences.”
For rules and to enter visit www.therialto.co.uk
The winner of the first Rialto/RSPB Nature Poem 2012 was Pat Winslow
for her poem 'East Sabino Sunrise Circle – The Visit' .
EAST SABINO SUNRISE CIRCLE – THE VISIT
Not the sudden scuttle towards you along a wainscot,
not the black-as-shoelaces scrabble towards your feet,
but the graceful descent of a hand down the stucco wall
and the tuck of your heels up onto the chair. She was all
fingers, a slight palpation as she encountered each stone,
each plant pot in the yard. The moon was yellow as corn.
The night was thick with crickets. Just this velvet hand
coming silently towards us as we drank our beers and
watched. Neither of us moved when she came quite close
and scoped the orange tree’s base and the barrel cactus,
then brushed past the patio door, though still your heels
were tucked up high and your arms clasped your knees.
She came and then she went and it was like we were stars
breathed into the dust, patterned into the night. Our beers,
the grace of your own hands, the cicadas in the desert heat,
the history of we two sisters, shining, close and complete.
Pat Winslow