This afternoon I listened to ten or so people share their poems, and was invited to judge between them.  Thankfully with two other judges.

I think it confirmed what I've always known... I'm not cut out for judging things.  I was very happy with the descisions that were made, and overall our opinions weren't so very different... but it left me very stressed.  I think because I am very aware of my lack of understanding of poetry as a genre.  I think because it is, ultimately, subjective.  I think because every one, however technically competent or otherwise offers something of themself.  And maybe because I'm just a wuss.

I really enjoyed the poems: I laughed, I ached, I was taken to places, I was asked questions, I was granted insights to people's souls.

I'm really glad I was there, and grateful to have been allowed to share in the judging... but now I need to lie down in a darkened room!!

This afternoon I have been invited to act as a judge for Poetry Slam under the banner of "Faith and Unbelief".  My credentials are, I assume, being a minister type person and quite liking poetry.  I do feel a bit of a fraud though... last year someone announced they had written a sonnet, and specifically such-and-such a type of sonnet... all I knew was that sonnets had 14 lines.  Likewise I know that a Haiku is three lines of 5, 7, 5 syllables, but not a lot else. Grade A for 'O' level English literature back in 1979 is a pretty poor qualification for this, I fear!

But what strikes me is that, whilst I remember almost nothing of their content, I still recall the themes and 'feel' of the pair of poems we awarded the prize to last year.  A reflection on standing in a cliff top chapel and another on the birth of a first child.

I think that has to be my basis for judging... does the poem move in such a way that I will remember why I liked it in a year's time?

I will enjoy being there; I will still feel a fraud; I look forward to hearing people's work.