Connecticut Poetry Society Poetry Contests
CPS/NEBT Collaboration
In October Connecticut Poetry Society collaborated with New England Ballet Theatre on NEBT’s first production of their 2021/2022 season, “The Myth and Madness of Edgar Allen Poe,” based on Poe’s poem “The Raven.” CPS members were invited to submit poems inspired by Poe/Poe themes to be judged by NEBT’s Artistic Director Christopher Fleming. The winning poem, “The Mysterious and Unfortunate Incident at the Grave of Eliza Barrow,” was written by CPS member Ed Lent. Ed read his poem at the October 30 performance of the ballet.
CPS Member Ed Lent, a “poet for people who think they don’t like poetry,” publishes under the pen name Ezra Lovecroft. In 2020 he won the CT Arts Hero Award from the Cultural Alliance of Western Connecticut. He published his first collection of poems, As Above, So Below, in 2018.
Read Ed’s winning poem here:
The Mysterious and Unfortunate Incident at the Grave of Eliza Barrow
by Edward Allan Lent
They’d never understand
How things became so out of hand.
How handsome prince
with velvet glove, fine lace for collar,
became the twisted madman from once learned scholar.
Born to noble family
with lineage displayed
by a legion of statues
lining an ancient colonnade.
Unimaginable how
this golden prince so sweet
became a monster by deceit,
turned ill-starred, would be betrayed,
by the callous act of a simple maid.
The new maid, a Miss Eliza Barrow, was never told,
when ancient texts get wet
they chance to mold.
The morning was bright with scattered sun,
but that afternoon became quite a different one.
Storm clouds appeared,
that day she started,
the sun became timid,
then soon departed.
Lightening cracked, thunder boomed,
the maiden screamed,
then suddenly swooned.
With simple mind, (oft underused), she quickly ran, became confused.
They’d never understand
How things became so out of hand.
How handsome prince
with velvet glove, fine lace for collar,
became the twisted madman from once learned scholar.
Born to noble family
with lineage displayed
by a legion of statues
lining an ancient colonnade.
Unimaginable how
this golden prince so sweet
became a monster by deceit,
turned ill-starred, would be betrayed,
by the callous act of a simple maid.
Howling wind
ran wild through trees,
sent a chill, caused unease.
Dispatched to shut
the library windows,
traced beneath the castle’s towers,
she gazed outside to see the flowers.
Ripped from garden and broken limb,
this frightened her so,
and a sky so grim.
Abruptly distressed,
she forgot her task in those towers,
allowing wind and rain
inside for hours.
Early the next day she woke
with quite the jolt,
dashing to the forgotten chamber,
sliding the bolt.
The room was drenched,
the walls still wet,
she wanted to run
but remembered her debt.
The dripping shelves,
she quickly polished,
all clues mopped up,
her fault abolished.
She locked each window
from left to right,
causing the room to be
silent and air tight.
Last, the curtains were drawn
with all her might.
The room now strangely pleasing
in this look of dark night.
Fearing loss of wage,
perhaps punishment
or distrust from her master,
she silently shut the doors
on her disaster.
To her relief she heard,
he was to travel that season,
go away, far abroad,
but this is where her trick
unraveled and became rather flawed.
An unseasonably hot June, then hotter July,
sealed his fate, brought forth her lie.
A curious odor was mentioned by those oft walking past,
but oh, she was a clever lass.
Making fragrant arrangements with flower and herb,
she filled the room, for the odor to curb.
Perfuming books with lavender and different sages,
she pressed flowers, placed torn leaves between the pages.
Sweet smelling roses, now calmed their noses.
It wouldn’t last,
her plan soon thwarted,
the rot took hold, already started.
The spores brought in by wild plants, soon attracted hungry ants.
The damp decay, the growth of mold,
black death began, she soon looked old.
The maid, she died by that September,
but no one knew or could remember
what would cause her death so quick, or question, why she became so ill,
no answer comes from silent grave down by lake or up on hill.
Upon return, the masters cough and wheeze at first had doubt,
his voice now a whisper, no longer able to shout.
Blood from his nose,
soon lungs, caused worry,
then his vision became all blurry.
The headaches were thought a cause from sun-light,
it was suggested he stay in the darkened library from mornings till night.
Reading book after book, verse after verse,
(licking his finger, turning each page), ingesting more poison,
he soon got worse.
They’d never understand
How things became so out of hand.
How handsome prince
with velvet glove, fine lace for collar,
became the twisted madman from once learned scholar.
Born to noble family
with lineage displayed
by a legion of statues
lining an ancient colonnade.
Unimaginable how
this golden prince so sweet
became a monster by deceit,
turned ill-starred, would be betrayed,
by the callous act of a simple maid.
The scent that rose
from mold and by dust,
began to be confused by him as a feeling of lust.
He tasted her love,
from his finger tip and saliva.
Hallucinating each a kiss from
the love smitten Eliza.
Being told how she spent hours,
had kept the room with fragrant flowers,
made it a tribute of her love,
stroked her face with his glove,
dreamed herself to be near his side,
fancied herself, one day his bride.
Madness from these visions, with every joint in strain,
he smashes his head through stained glass window pane.
Not a feature left of princely face,
the monster ran without a trace,
leaping from his tower room,
obsessed with her, determined to be her groom.
Through the garden,
his blood dripping on every bloom,
he stumbles through field to find her tomb.
Howling now and full of madness
His loss of love, this painful sadness.
He finds her grave and starts to dig
Ripping away root and tangled twig.
In he climbs, the coffin narrow,
swearing blind love to Elizabeth Barrow.
A rattle rises from the last breath he took,
As he finds her hand upon on book.
They’d never understand
How things became so out of hand.
How handsome prince
with velvet glove, fine lace for collar,
became the twisted madman from once learned scholar.
Born to noble family
with lineage displayed
by a legion of statues
lining an ancient colonnade.
Unimaginable how
this golden prince so sweet
became a monster by deceit,
turned ill-starred, would be betrayed,
by the callous act of a simple maid.
~
Robert Cording judge of the Vivian Shipley Poetry Award
Robert Cording has published nine collections of poems, the most recent of which are Only So Far and Without My Asking (CavanKerry Press). A book on poetry, the bible and metaphor, Finding the World’s Fullness, is out from Slant. He has received two NEAs in poetry. He has won a Pushcart Prize in poetry, and his poems have appeared in publications such as the Georgia Review, Southern Review, Poetry, Hudson Review, Kenyon Review, The Common, Agni, New Ohio Review, Orion, and Best American Poetry, 2018.
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The Connecticut Poetry Society is pleased to offer the following Poetry Competitions LYNN DECARO POETRY COMPETITION In Memory of Lynn DeCaro, a promising young CPS Member who died of leukemia in 1986 Made possible through the generous support of The Betty and Al DeCaro Family Submission Period January 1 – March 15 Open to Connecticut student poets in grades 9–12 Prizes: 1st $100; 2nd $50; 3rd $25 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Experimental Poetry Contest $1000 and publication in the Connecticut River Review to the winner Up to four finalists will also be identified Submission period: June 15-July 31; $15 reading fee ________________________________________________________ CONNECTICUT POETRY AWARD In Honor of CPS Founding Members Wallace Winchell, Ben Brodine and Joseph Brodinsky Made possible through the generous support of The Adolf and Virginia Dehn Foundation Submission Period: April 1 to May 31 Open to all poets. Prizes: 1st $400, 2nd $100, 3rd $50 CONTEST SPONSORSHIPS AVAILABLE |
The Nutmeg Poetry Award
Made possible through the generosity of Connecticut Poetry Society Submission Period December 1 – January 31 Open to Connecticut Poets only Prizes: 1st $200; 2nd $100; 3rd $50 
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