Cookie Consent by FreePrivacyPolicy.com
Red Line Book Festival
Menu

Poetry Night & Poetry Competition Awards

Winners announced


Past Event
L
L - R: Patrick Deeley, Damien B Donnelly, Linda McKenna, Gustav Parker Hibbit
DateWednesday October 16th
Time 6pm
AdmissionFree - Booking Required
VenueCastletymon Library

Join host Patrick Deeley as he speaks to poets Damien Donnelly, Linda McKenna and Gustav Parker Hibbett about a life in poetry. This will then be followed by the announcement of the winners of the 2024 Red Line Book Festival Poetry Competition.


The 2024 Poetry Competition winners are:

1st Prize  Testimony of Soap  

by Ger Duffy


(i.m. of the women and children held in Mother & Baby Homes 1923 - 1996)

 

“And darkness and worms shall be their dwelling place”

(after Ishion Hutchinson)

 

ashamed soap    birth soap   blood soap   boarded out soap

buried soap   cold soap   child allowance soap   churched soap

confined soap   congenital idiot soap   decades of the rosary soap   

dehydration soap destitute soap   discarded baby soap  

dysfunction soap fallen women soap   Glaxo Smith Klein soap  

human remains soap ironing soap   illegitimate soap  

inferior sub species soap jaundiced soap   keep going soap 

lack of consent soap   laundry soap   lice soap   locked up soap   

marasmus soap mass grave soap   mastitis soap   naked soap

Order of the Bons Secours soap   panic soap   penitent soap

pregnant soap   premature soap   punishment soap

rape soap   rat soap   remembrance soap scrubbed soap

sexual abuse soap   signed away soap   silenced soap

stitched soap   sewage soap   sin soap   skeletal soap

slave soap   sold soap    trafficked soap   unmarked grave soap

unmarried soap   unpaid soap   vanished soap

their nest of bones         our terrible treasure

 


Ger Duffy lives in Co Waterford.  Her poems have been published in PN Review (UK), Poetry Ireland Review, Southword, The Bangor Literary Journal, Under the Radar (UK), The Waxed Lemon, The Sailor Review.  Her poems have been anthologized by The Women’s Press (UK), Slow Dancer Press (UK), Dedalus Press, The Sidhe Press(Ger), Verve Press (UK), Moonstone Press (US) and # Public Sector Poetry (UK).  Her poem was awarded Poem of the Year 2022 by The Milk House. She has received mentorships in Poetry from the Munster Literature Centre and the National Mentoring Board.  She was awarded the Desmond O’Grady International Poetry Award in 2024.  Her poems have been placed 2nd in the Goldsmiths Poetry Prize, the Fingal Prize and Write by the Sea Poetry Competition.  Her pamphlet was Highly Commended at the International Book & Pamphlet Award in 2024.  Her poems have been Highly Commended in the Redline Competition 2021 & 2022, the Frances Ledwidge Award 2022 and the Allingham Award 2023.





2nd Prize: Charade

by Aidan Casey 


 

This is not me ... it’s not me at all.

—Mr Golyadkin

 

The whole fiasco unfolded

slowly, bizarrely,

on a busy street in broad daylight

under the gaze of dozens

of random citizens and the all-enveloping

pell-mell din of a jackhammer

stabbing the pavement

to pieces and pieces of pieces

when a telescopic young lady

stepped like an antelope

round the maze of hazard tape

and looked, quite simply, right past me.

 

I brushed it off. At my age,  

I thought, I am not on her radar.

But under my feet, I could feel

the Copernican grinding of gears.

Behind gritted teeth, I could hear

the meshing of wheels

leveraging ineluctable imponderables,

nudging me, ever so slightly,

catastrophically, off my trajectory,

depedestaled like Pluto, to err

forever in the uncharted hell

of things that are shadows of themselves.

 

I felt like Mr Golyadkin, I

felt like shouting

Well, Madam! Last I heard of me,

I was right here!

But I blinked, and time lapsed

and the scene, by degrees, contracted

into the focal point of my pupil,

flipped on its axis, pivoted

out of Street View, and retracted

into the lizard eye of a spycam

fixed to a Tesco’s. The razor-edged sargeant

paused at my last known whereabouts.

 

Is there anything, however immaterial, 

a cover left off a wormhole? Anything? 

We scrutinized each frozen frame

for a sign, a turning of heads

betraying a path to where

I went moot, erased

from my sum over histories.

 

There was only the haze

of dust, the girl side-stepping

the work-gang in hi-viz vests

and some crazy old tosser

waving his arms & raving among the apocrypha





3rd Prize: Magic Tricks

by Finola Cahill

                                                                            


I died here, before.

 

First plasma and platelet disassociated. Sodium

swooned into the spit of rain, chased January

down the drain – wanton. That said, the real primary

 

indicator had been stasis, the flattening of personal

spaces into metered trajectory from kitchen kettle

to bedside table to phlegmatic mirror to phone’s

 

peephole. But, given that it was December,

it could not be rightly determined if this was an acute

or chronic symptom. So then, the skin chipped,

 

in February, lace bits, volant, losing the run of themselves

in the jump-scare of fake Spring’s cold. Consequently,

my stuffing was left out to air, hardened to lumps

 

and came away like stones from the mountain, like

the beach in Achill I washed, absolute, back out

to sea. In the between I lost voice, hair, peripheral

 

vision, my taste for tomatoes, the stock pile of lines

I used dating online and muscular conditioning

in my lower back. However, the return was quicker

 

than expected. Unfortunately, there was no reincarnation,

I am still absolutely a specimen of the human condition,

rounded corners, fresh teeth, fleshy dents and damp

 

pleats. I do fight to retain memory of my last

death, because the opportunity for renewed fatality

feels livid with potential, I smell it in the trash bags

 

I take out and the stale opening and closing corridor

doors, the loamy friends who reappeared out of sleeves

and top hats once I’d Eastered myself back to this life. I keep

 

the receipt for the priest’s time in my wallet and I’m sure

the pals, deserved, though kindly discrete, still carry

souvenirs of my canny trick somewhere on their persons—

 

feats of endurance, speech, speed and mind reading, it’s too easy

to forget to remember the reeling carnival of losing a season.


 

Patrick Deeley is a poet, memoirist and children’s writer from Loughrea. Keepsake is his eighth collection of poems with Dedalus Press.  His previous collections include The End of the World, Groundswell: New and Selected, and The Bones of Creation.  His work has featured in many anthologies and literary journals worldwide as well as being translated to French, Spanish, Italian, Ukrainian and other languages.  He received the 2019 Lawrence O’Shaughnessy Award for poetry, and his other awards include the Dermot Healy International Poetry Prize, and the Bisto and Eilis Dillon Awards for Children’s Literature.  His best-selling, critically acclaimed memoir, The Hurley Maker’s Son, was published by Transworld in 2016.  


Damien B. Donnelly is the award-winning author of the poetry pamphlet Eat the Storms, a Stickleback micro-collection & the conversational pamphlet In the Jitterfritz of Neon, co-written by Eilín de Paor, all published by Hedgehog Poetry Press who also published his first full collection Enough! in August 2022. He’s the host & producer of Eat the Storms, the poetry podcast and EIC of The Storms, a printed journal of poetry, prose & visual art. His work appears in various journals, online & in print. His second collection, Back from Away, was published by Turas Press, May 2024.


Linda McKenna is from Kinsealy in North County Dublin but has lived in Downpatrick since 1995. Her debut collection, In the Museum of Misremembered Things, was published by Doire Press in 2020. The title poem won the An Post/Irish Book Awards Poem of the Year in 2020. Her  second collection, Four Thousand Keys, has just been published by Doire Press in Autunm of this year (2024).

She won the Seamus Heaney Award for new writing in 2018 and the Red Line Festival in the same year and has had poems shortlisted for other awards.

She has had poems published in, among other publications, Poetry Ireland Review, Banshee, The North, The Honest Ulsterman, Crannóg, Acumen, Atrium, One, The Stony Thursday Book, Ink, Sweat and Tears, Abridged, Skylight 47, The High Window, Raceme, The Poetry Bus, The Lonely Crowd, Causeay/Cabhsair, The Waxed Lemon and has undertaken commissions for the Community Arts Partnership’s The Way It Is project  and Poetry Jukebox/Quotidian’s Ambiguities and Lexicon curations.


Gustav Parker Hibbett is a Black poet, essayist, and MFA dropout. Originally from New Mexico, they are currently pursuing a PhD at Trinity College Dublin. They are a 2024 Djanikian Scholars Finalist and a 2023 Obsidian Foundation Fellow, and their debut poetry collection, High Jump as Icarus Story, is published by Banshee Press in 2024. You can also find them on Twitter (@gustav_parker) and Instagram (@gustavparker).