Poetry Competition Winners 2025

Overall Winner

“Te Pierdo Twice”
By Alfred Gerada

La niebla sube por Europa Point,
envolviendo tu mente en sombras,
se lleva Main Street,
se lleva mi nombre,
como hojas secas,
que arrastra el viento.

Primero te vas en trocitos,
migajas perdidas por el camino,
una cara, un día, un nombre,
Swept away en la marea del olvido.

Tus recuerdos son fotos mojadas,
sin rostro, sin fecha, sin final.
Como tinta que sangra en el agua,
se desvanecen sin dejar señal.

Ay, granny… no te encuentro.
¿Dónde te has ido a pasear?
Before, we walked por Irish Town,
now you’re lost —
en otro lugar.

Your mind es como una barca,
Adrift, sin faro ni compás,
floating away from Rosia waters,
para no volver jamás.

Un día ya no me llamas,
el otro, ya no me ves.
Y aunque aún sigues aquí…
ya no sé quién eres.

And when at last you leave me,
cuando tu cuerpo también se va,
te pierdo twice —
once, when you faded,
y otra… cuando ya no estás.
…
La demencia
es un barco a la deriva,
una brújula rota
en el inmenso mar…
Con cada ola que rompe,
te vas alejando
a un horizonte…
que ya no puedo alcanzar.

Overall Winner – Judges Comment
“Te Pierdo Twice”

Anyone who has experienced the loss of a loved one to dementia will understand the deep sense of loss - twice - that this poem describes in its eight stanzas. The loss of memory and identity and then the loss experienced again ‘cuando tu cuerpo tambien se va’. An emotional rendering of a sadly universal experience for all those touched by this disease. The mention of Gibraltarian landmarks anchors it firmly in our collective experience, and the heart-breaking ‘granny’ brings the emotion to the forefront. Each stanza skillfully maps the trajectory of the disease using powerful imagery taken from the natural world in dry leaves, fog and the sea to convey the gulf between suffered and those who love them.

Adult Winner

“Delivered Ten Years Ago”
By Kate Julianne Williamson

I sent the text message ten years ago.
It still says “Delivered.”

No reply. No read sign.

Just silence, in a thread that used to mean something.

You were here – once. A heartbeat, a laugh that knew all my secrets,
a name lighting up on my screen at 2 a.m like the stars had service.

And then you weren’t.

The world kept typing, scrolling, living.
But I stayed – in that message,
in those three dots that never appeared.

I reread what I wrote as if grief could be edited,
as if saying it might bring you back.

It was simple: “Are you home?”

You were always home to me.
But now I talk to the void of a phone that doesn’t ring,
a number that still lives in my favourites,
because I don’t have the heart to let go.

Ten birthdays have now passed.
Ten Christmases.
Ten times I’ve almost deleted the thread – but couldn’t.

Because “delivered” is the last proof that something reached you.

That I reached you.

That once, you were just a message away.

But now you are gone – and the silence you left behind
echoes louder than your cheers when you saw me perform for the first time.

No more passionate rants about Liverpool’s last minute goals.
No more liquorice sweets tucked into coat packets,
offered with that grin only you had.

Grief has made a home
in the spaces where your laughter used to live,
and I find myself reaching for you in the small, familiar things –
only to remember that you’re all not here anymore.

But the message remains –
Frozen… unread…
a timestamp of all that I lost.

Delivered - ten ago.

And still,

nothing.

Adult- Winner – Judges Comment

“Delivered Ten Years Ago”

This moving narrative poem explores how grief can remain powerfully present, even a decade later. Its use of everyday imagery, especially the “Delivered” text message, creates a striking emotional impact, grounding the loss in something instantly recognisable. The poet skilfully weaves longing through the familiar digital world of message threads and notifications, using this setting to explore echoes of a relationship that lingers in memory. The extended metaphor of the frozen message is handled with subtlety, while the gentle repetition of moments such as “ten birthdays… ten Christmases” underscores the slow, painful passage of time. The emotional weight of this poem is carried with great control and clarity, making it a well-deserved winner.

Adult Runner Up

“If I Spent More Time With My Two Year Old”
By Tessa Rosado - Standen

If I spent more time with my two year old
I would unseal the ziplocks of my mind
And gush into my senses
I would know the taste of purple
Without jostling for blocks of morphemes
And my language would be laughter and tears
I would hear the heartbeat in the ticking clock
And not know that the moon is only lent to us
But I’d feel the tickle of apricot ribbon lacing mauve girth
As the sun rises behind your eyes
For I would not know where I end, and you start
Or that the bubbles rising in my lungs are rage at the injustices ablaze around me
Because all I would see would be drenched in light
I would bare the melon of my belly
And love its rise and fall without conditions
And above all,
I would move through the thorns of this world with nothing but
Curiosity,
Grace and
Love

Adult- Runner up – Judges Comment

“If I Spent More Time With My Two Year Old”

This poem expertly uses sensory language to convey a childlike fascination with the world. We really get to live a child’s unfiltered experience through this poet’s words. The poet makes us taste colour and see sound as if we were too just discovering the world in front of us for the first time. The poem's structure as one long flowing sentence mimics the rush of sensation it describes culminating in a hopeful vision of moving through the world with “curiosity, grace and love.” This poem made me believe that we may all be happier if we looked at the world through the eyes of a two year old!

Adult Highly Commended

“Maternity Leave”
By Sarah Anne Duarte

Today I washed my hair.
A mundane victory, a small win;
I notice it’s getting thin.
One more thing to add to the changes, I guess.
I’m just trying my best,
Trying to float.
To swim.
Perhaps even, to love him.

Today I washed my hair.
In case you care,
it’s the most alone time I’ve had in around 36 hours,
and still, the door was open.
On high alert I scrubbed,
adding totals,
And ounces,
And considering the chemicals in the baby rub.
The lack of sleep is the least tiring part.
Even thinking this breaks my heart.,
But the thought floats through my mind;
Was this the right time?

Today I washed my hair,
And I’ll try again not to despair;
It’s short lived, it’s lovely.
“You’ve done it once before, honey.”
The nights that roll into day, the rags, the fat, the milk;
you’ll be fine, it’ll be ok.
Because today you washed your hair;
And it was a mundane victory; a small win.

Adult- Highly Commended – Judges Comment
“Maternity Leave”
This intimate and tender poem delicately portrays the early days of new motherhood, capturing both its emotional complexities. Anchored in the repeated, ordinary act of washing one’s hair, the poem transforms a mundane moment into a symbol of fragile self-care. Through an extremely candid lens this poet reflects on exhaustion, doubt, and love. The closing lines offer a gentle reassurance, reminding the reader that even small victories hold immense emotional weight.