Gabe Atkinson

The challenge was to write a brief poem including this line from The Revealer by Edwin Arlington Robinson: A shadow falls upon the land.

Napier’s Ken Carmichael writes: A shadow falls upon the land,/His heart is full of sorrow,/No more footsteps in the sand,/It’s back to work tomorrow. Gail Johnson of Auckland has a remedy: A shadow falls upon the land./ The sun is sinking fast./With all my strength I pull the cork./It’s wine o’clock at last.

From Motueka’s Sheila Pitman:

A shadow falls upon the land/and the grey-backed curlew cries/as rivulets form on the golden sand/and the wind in the tussock sighs. Trish Bishop, Hamilton: A shadow falls upon the land./A wave rolls high across the sand./Sea at our backs, our fronts, our side,/ This is the sliding, rising tide.

Bruce Rogan describes a grim future: A shadow falls upon the land/Cast by a herbicidal drone./ The drone flies on,/ The shadow stays, and darkens. Troy Ross, Wellington, spies a man-mountain: A shadow falls upon the land./It pleases maids and madams/ To chase this sevenfoot-tall man:/ The hulking Steven Adams.

But Blenheim’s Keith Davidson’s tale of celestial frustration wins: A shadow falls upon the land/But misses most of God’s Own./ The clouds obscure this wonder, and/We’re stymied by the time zone:/No super blue blood moon for us,/ Roll on sesquicentenary;/ Then we’ll revisit all the fuss/With Peter Beck’s machinery.

Next contest is for a brief poem (rhyming optional) about an ordinary but cherished possession. Read William Carlos Williams’s The Red Wheelbarrow for inspiration. Entries, for the prize below, close at noon on Thursday, March 1. Submissions: wordsworth@listener.co.nz or Wordsworth, NZ Listener, Private Bag 92512, Wellesley St, Auckland 1141. Please include your address.