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Glenwyn Peter Evans
Celebrations Winner!


 

Celebrations

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Celebrations

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Celebrations Winner

Glenwyn Peter Evans is our


Glenwyn won a Harrods Belgravia Hamper for his poem 'Of Phantom Shadows'.

Even now I still find it hard to believe that my poem, Of Phantom Shadows, has been picked as a winner amidst many of my contemporary, poetic peers. I am elated.

I am 48 years old. My wife and I met on 4th October 1972; we got married in April 1977. In all 34 years of ups and downs we have endured. We have four children and six grandchildren.

I started to write poetry at a very early age, eight or nine, if my memory serves me correctly. Later on, I started to write lyrical songs; some, so my friends thought, were good; some laughable. A lot of stuff I wrote I devoted to my girlfriend, fiancée, wife. Believe it or not, I nearly cracked the big time back in the seventies, with song writing and stage performances. So, poetic rhyme has always been there, as has the ability to tell stories.

The big change came over twelve years ago, when, due to illness, I lost the job I loved the most. I wrote a few ideas for radio advertising, but, due to costs, got knocked back. I wrote a few story ideas that I had developed while my children were growing up, got knocked back again! In September 1996, I received an acknowledgement from Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, via Her Lady-in-Waiting; a kindly letter thanking me for a special poem I wrote entitled The Monarch.

This made me think of taking poetry a little bit more seriously; as poetry were a kind of ballad, I realised it came to me quite naturally, that is not to say I don’t get things wrong, because I do. I think, being a poet in today’s world (unless your name is framed-famed) is very tough indeed; my biggest teacher in writing poetry has been Forward Press itself. They are the only publisher that I know that allow you, the poet, to be artistically creative in all endeavours, based on literally, over the years, many, many themes.

Over the years quite a lot of family and friends urged me to keep trying, until, through correspondence I wrote off to Forward Press. Triumphantly I never looked back, which brings me to my winning entry. Before this, I’d like to quote to you what an old, bur friendly English teacher once said to me, ‘Your grammar’s atrocious; your punctuation lacks terribly; you’re a bit fickle concerning sentence structures, but, with a little luck, you could make a story teller … one day. Remember our school motto,’ he added. ‘If at first you don’t succeed, try and try again, until you do!’

ENDEAVOUR! That was our school motto … and it’s been mine ever since.

Of Phantom Shadows, is a grand dedication to all those who have come and gone, loved and lost, who gave me hope and encouragement and have been a cherished inspiration throughout my life. I wanted to write a poem that gave honour to all those that inspired me; from my old headmaster/teacher, Mister Thomas, to the greatest story tellers that ever lived, Aesops, Hans Christian Anderson (whose stories I have always cherished from an early age), JM Barrie and, of course, recently read, JRR Tolkein. So in way of dedication I wrote:

The chasing of ancient rainbows,
An enchanted crock of gold,
The passing of phantom shadows, 
Of every story ever told.

Poetry, story poems and stories have always been my pragmatic way of dealing with life’s stresses and, what’s more, I enjoy reading them just as much as I do telling them. Thank you.

Glenwyn Peter Evans


Here is the Winning Poem

Of Phantom Shadows

Passing phantom shadows
Undulate before my eyes,
A youth of pleasant meadows,
Celebrates the early morning rise.

The chasing of ancient rainbows,
An enchanted crock of gold,
The passing of phantom shadows,
Of every story, ever told.

In verdant isolation,
Metronomic time ticks hollow,
Bland of decoration,
In the land of phantom shadow.

Fascinating paths,
Dance the phantom shadows,
Time skips, cries and laughs,
In the land of phantom hollows.

Whence the twilight wails,
Amidst a kaleidoscopic dusk,
A waxing moon sets a sail,
Spiralling phantom shadows dust.

My glass, is half empty,
Some argue: surely, but half full?
But life I lived and loved a-plenty,
And tried to be, optimistically, never dull.

Of phantom shadows
Undulating before my eyes?
Golden memories of golden meadows,
Unforgotten treasure, in celebration of everyone, 
Throughout my life.

Glenwyn Peter Evans


The Harrods Belgravia Hamper



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