And the winner is... not me

 One returns from the weekly 7 or 8 mile walk persuading oneself that surely now one deserves a tin of lager or two and while I'm not easily persuaded of many things, I'm easy to persuade of that. The racing results weren't good but will be better tomorrow. There were also some kind words from the people who call themselves Portsmouth Poetry, not Portsmouth Poetry Society, about the poem I had put into their Coronavirus-themed competition. It was Situation, which is somewhere below on here, which had already been written and, not being able to not be about lockdown, presented itself.

I was grateful for their words which at least showed they had completely 'got it', which is the main thing. Of course, I felt £100 the poorer for being short-listed but awarded 'no coconut' but, as a Fulham supporter, that is a familiar feeling.

Had I won, I'd be writing about how poetry competitions are such a bad thing. They give one poet an inflated idea of their own talent and significance and depress all the others who entered. The judges can only pick one winner, and other judges would have picked other winners, and so it doesn't really mean a great deal. It's a seaside resort knobbly knees competition or the Premium Bonds. But one look at an issue of Poetry News shows a quarterly litany of competition winners that make such honours less the gilt-edged  glamorous thrill the winners must surely feel but a small amount in a currency that is always being devalued. I know because I've won a couple but winning an end-of-the-pier talent show didn't make me David Bowie.

I would never enter a poetry competition that cost money to enter. Your money is better invested on a horse, like Mogul in the 2.45 at York tomorrow. It's no more than buying a lottery ticket and if the judges, who you probably have never heard of, don't like your sort of poem then you are a firm ground horse running on heavy going from the off.

As it happens, I'm most gratified by Portsmouth Poetry's comments. It would be great if poetry could make one last stand by being the last thing that refused to become a competitive sport, like cricket that didn't even have champions in the C19th or Rugby Union that had no league or professional status when I was a kid but was done for the sake of it. My percentage of wins, placings and short-listings in the few competitions I've entered in the last 40 years is probably quite respectable. But, like Jose Mourinho, it might be better if I keep that record intact rather than ruin it by trying any further in a sport I no longer have a good enough grasp of.  

Top marks to all involved. It was, at the very least, something to talk about.