Magazine
Latest Issue

There are four hundred poems,” the president of the poetry society said over the phone, “but judging won’t take you that long, because most of them are pretty bad.” The next day the poems arrived in an apple carton, three bundles bound with rubber bands, and I spread them out in the squares of sunshine on my dining-room table. O dining-room table, dear old friend, home of my mournful mashed potatoes. Four hundred poems, enough to fill a bread box, by 93 poets who hoped to win one of four modest cash prizes-modest to you, but no prize is modest…

Register today to continue reading

You’ve hit your limit of three articles in the last 30 days. To get seven more, simply enter your email address below.

You’ll also receive our free e-book Prospect’s Top Thinkers 2020 and our newsletter with the best new writing on politics, economics, literature and the arts.

Prospect may process your personal information for our legitimate business purposes, to provide you with newsletters, subscription offers and other relevant information.

Click here to learn more about these purposes and how we use your data. You will be able to opt-out of further contact on the next page and in all our communications.

This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.

We want to hear what you think about this article. Submit a letter to letters@prospect-magazine.co.uk

More From Prospect