It is our great pleasure to be releasing this today, Chapbook 2, featuring the work of our three prize winners chosen by Irish poet, Kevin Higgins. The thrill in publishing this work is all the more for us, as each of the winners is a debutante.
We give you the work of Anne Walsh Donnelly, Akshaya Pawasker & Bobby Sparrow.
Chapbook contest three is now closed and winners will be announced in the next few weeks. Details of Chapbook contest 4 which will offer an increased prize fund, will be announced in our first print issue due out on September 15th.
Welcome to the Blue Nib’s second chapbook, which showcases the prize-winning entries to our second Chapbook Contest, The Winter/Spring Chapbook Contest, 2017/18. The Blue Nib is a not for profit small press and online publishing platform run by editors Shirley Bell & Dave Kavanagh.
In The Blue Nib magazine we offered the 3 winning poets, in first, second and third places, chapbook publication, along with cash prizes and their copies of this chapbook. The contest was open to new, emerging and established poets from any country but at least one of the three winners was to be a debutante (with no chapbook or book published previously). Again, we were delighted to find that all three winners were debutantes, so we are proud to be the first publisher to introduce these new poets into print.
We are introducing three very strong female writers, all writing with passion and conviction, but all having their own very distinctive voices.
Our judge was the fine Irish poet, Kevin Higgins. ( See his biography at the end of the chapbook).
We are very pleased to be able to showcase these emerging talents.
Born premature, with a hole in the heart, on 15 October 1954, to Polish-German, delicatessen-running parents in Melbourne, Australia, Peter Bakowski fell in love with the map of the world and reading at an early age. Peter and his wife, Helen, a clothes-maker, travel to Europe annually, particularly Paris and most recently Berlin. 2019 represents
WHALE BONE LAMP Annabelle Obscura wears a widow’s bun Knotted ‘round a hook of whale bone That her young Captain had Carved with the marks of saints In a peculiar kind of Braille That felt like the lost promises Of a forgotten summer land Her fingers leave red marks Like the phases of the moon
IN THE GARDEN Searching for a herb named solace; they say it grows in hard ground; I am sure it used to grow here, somewhere. It goes with nearly everything. Perhaps it is nowhere to be found. Better than heart’s ease, growing among honesty and patience. THE HUNGOVER FOREST (In memory of naturalist Gerald Durrell,