Great Big Green Week

THE Poetry Competition for Great Big Green Week was very successful.

We had a lot of interest in it and people seemed keen to express their views about their love of nature and the importance of caring for our planet.

The standard of entries was very high and impressive so it was difficult to decide on winners.

About 35 people attended the poetry reading and prize-giving event.

It was a very enjoyable evening and the Henley librarians, Keith and Peter, were very welcoming.

The winner of the children’s prize was Edward Robinson, nine, with his poem Tread Lightly on the Earth.

The runners-up were Florence Irvine and Isabella Jones, both 11, Thea Hookham, nine, and Dorothy Locke, seven.

The teenage prize went to Fleur Wood, 15, with a poem called Equilibrium and the runner-up was Naomi Salek, 17.

The adult prize was won by Louise Brakspear with a very powerful poem called The Late Arrivals.

Second prize went to Lynda Hopkins and third to Daisy Smith.

The winners who attended read their poems and co-organiser David Williams read in anyone’s absence.

This year, in honour of the late David Grubb, we had a memorial prize which went to Richard Fortey for his brilliant poem The Soil.

The winners of each category won a £25 book token and the runners-up received smaller amounts. All the children received a prize.

We are very grateful to Southern Plant, which sponsored the event and allowed us to give such generous prizes.

Mr Williams wrote a slightly ironic poem in their honour called Hired Hands.

The winning poems are below.

Sue Turner

Tread Lightly on the Earth by

Edward Robinson, nine

Tread lightly on the earth

Don’t step on the turf

Be cautious when playing out for hours

Try to avoid stomping on the flowers

There are creatures everywhere you see

So remember to treat them carefully

Don’t tread on the soil

There might be worms in a coil

Pick up all the litter you see

It will make the earth a better place to be

Some people — I say with disbelief — are destroying

The Amazon rainforest and Great Barrier Reef

If you don’t want to be a traitor

Remember to take care of

Nature.

Equilibrium by Fleur
Wood, 15

From the flame, we run, the bright that bakes,

The candle that crawls, that we long to shake,

The shade doesn’t cool, the bright sedates,

But without the heat, there is no wheat,

And the plants that thrived, will surely die,

Where is the balance, what is the price,

For the greed that brought us here, the lies,

We told, the truth we denied,

The fear and fragility,

Of life, filthy,

For our planet, the beauty,

The creatures that roam,

The world warms,

Swelling storms,

Tread lightly,

Unlikely.

The Late Arrivals by Louise Brakspear

We’re late to the party,

but then guests of honour

should always make an entrance, and

things could hardly start without us.

Oh, no point closing the door, we say

There are more of us on the way.

We’ll all just have to jam in somehow.

Thanks, is that for us?

We go up for seconds, thirds, sounding

so sincerely regretful we
forgot

our own contribution to the spread.

Bored of scoring

our names into the furniture,

we elbow our way out onto the flora instead.

Turn it up, we insist, and drown

in a siren music of our own making.

With closed eyes, we may realise too late that

we’re the last ones left
dancing.

The Soil by Richard Fortey

We need it so we feed it

Then we bleed it

Dry.

We plough it and we sour it

Then we let it

Lie.

But still it lives and gives

— how long before it

Dies?

We must find a kind way

— less than blind way — to

Care

To gently but intently bring

The precious soil to

Where

Its health and wealth will prosper

And its beauty we all share.

Hired Hands by David
Williams

Southern Plant’s mighty machines hold sway,

Churning turf to ready land for homes.

Transforming meadows that could be hay,

Hired hands moulding nature’s ancient loams.

Yet on “Green Week” we poets gather,

Raising pens to sing of environmental care.

Celebrating earth’s unblemished beauty,

As our sponsor’s bulldozers scrape it bare.

What ripping irony that they should finance our verse

To tread lightly on this terrestrial sphere.

While their diesel-driven workhorses trample

all that Henley poets hold dear.

Southern Plant, we embrace your backing,

And the conflict sheltered in your role.

To build our world might require some fracking,

Leaving ruptured earth for our green prayers to console.

No harsh critique here, merely observation —

of endless planning applications with rare rejections.

You hire the much needed muscled means of construction,

We write for prizes the muscled words for environmental protections.