Douglas College Poem of the Month May 2016. A Woman in Gingham.
Eclectica 20th Anniversary Best of Poetry: The wind, the wind
Eclectica. July/August 2014. Waiting for Judgement.
Eclectica. January/February 2014. The Tree. Antigone.
The Squamish Reporter: The Rising Song of You, Goodbye, Founder, One Hour
IBPC 3rd Place, April 2013: The Rising Song of You
Eclectica. Spotlight Poet: January/February 2012. Gravity. Her Music. The wind the wind. The snow has stopped.
Halfway down the stairs. December 2011. Goodbye.
Lily. September 2011. Every Time
Contemporary American Voices. September 2011. Six Poems | Murder Wrinkles, Love and the kicking of it, Because of the falling, Red, Window party, Oh Couch
Eclectica. January February 2011. Nothing Much
Internet Board Poetry Competition
Pedestal Magazine (online journal)
The Guardian Online
January shortlisted poem: It's Saturday
Here the mixed feelings natural to elegy are very present. The details – each and cumulatively – are the bodily expression of love, they are its substance and, by means of lines of verse, they become its celebration. All the harder to bear then is the loss of them. The last two and a half lines have the keenness of poetry in the act of telling the truth. David Constantine 2009
Dunes Review - Literary Journal of Northern Michigan
Volume 13, Issue 1. Summer 2008.
By request, sent 4 poems :: There I was again, The Process, Mud, When the Poet Complained
Acceptance 12 May 08
Contemporary Verse 2 : Poem as Travelogue / Summer 2008
Acceptance May 2 :: Remission
Sent 12 Jan 08. Accepted 01 May 08
Grey Hen Press : A Twist of Malice
An anthology of poems by women who are not ready to grow old gracefully.
Acceptance: At the Art Gallery, Small Slam in Hearts
Sent 23 Jan 08. Accepted 26 May 08
The Shit Creek Review
Accepted the poem Flat Hand of Winter for publication in their March Issue
Sent 04 Feb 07. Accepted 03 Mar 07
The Pedestal Magazine
Accepted the poem La Estrella for publication in their upcoming February issue.
Submitted 03 Feb 07. Accepted 09 Feb 07.
Loch Raven Review
Accepted two poems - I am the Glass and In a Chapel with Bibles for publication in their next issue.
Submitted Nov 12. Accepted Dec 16.
4AM Poetry Revuew
Accepted the poem Lumps for publication in their next issue.
Submitted Sept 4. Accepted Dec 16. 2006
Cider Press Review
Accepted the poem A Billion Eyes Look Up for late winter early Janaury 2007 issue.
Submitted July 31. Accepted Dec 6. 2006
Boxcar Poetry Review
Accepted the poem Cow Tipping for an upcoming issue.
Note: This poem will be published in the Boxcar Review's 2007 Anthology.
Submitted Nov 7. Accepted Dec 6. 2006
Burnside Poetry Review
Accepted the poem Sadness for their December/January issue
Submitted April 16. Accepted July 10
IBPC New Poetry Voices
3rd Place February 2007 - The Crying Girl
Judge Pascale Petit’s comments: “At the heart of this poem is a luminous kinaesthetic image. That crying girl carrying the window forward into the ‘gallery of summer’ lifts this poem onto another plane. It’s a movement out of the poem’s confines, into the open and future. Like the ‘egg named Harmony’ in her ovaries, it’s as if, at the core of the distress, there’s also the possibility for transformation. This powerful image, coupled with the synaesthetic language of ‘the major sevenths / sound like doorways,’ made me go back and reread the poem many times for sheer pleasure. I enjoyed this poet’s concentrated use of language and evocative image-making.”
HM April 2006 - At the art Gallery
Judge David Biespiel’s comments: “Odd & funny & immediate, the poem is comfortable as both a trifle & a record of strange clarity.”
The Guardian Poetry Workshop Shortlist
At the art gallery, a woman by Jude Goodwin
December 2007 workshop
Dark things come out of me, she said
and opened her mouth
right there, next to the lemon poppyseed
muffins and chai teas,
parted her thin ribbed lips
and showed me her throat.
It was full of something
coiled. Leaning close to my face,
she rolled her eyes. Her laughter
rose between us on small black wings
leaving a dampness on my cheek.
Later, across the gallery
I saw her passing pamphlets
and brochures to visitors. Nothing dark
apparently, but high above in the rafters
there might have been movement.
She saw me watching
This poem is another masterly chiller, perhaps more explicit than Walter de la Mare would have allowed himself to be in its shock effects. "Her laughter / rose between us on small black wings / leaving a dampness on my cheek" is a sure and swift development of the action, engaging at least three senses. This alarming moment is equally surely back-pedalled as the poem settles: "nothing dark / apparently, but high above in the rafters / there might have been movement."
One can't help but be impressed immediately by Goodwin's imaginative rendering of what has happened before these boats were caught on the sand, awaiting Van Gogh. This is one of the lovely results that accompany such imaginative ekphrasis, to see what history the artist might imagine or know in the composition, and Goodwin energizes the painting's composition with the ideas and music of that narrative. The work takes us beyond the frame of the painting, back to a story of how these boats arrived at that point on the sand from having delivered "the crying woman, hands wrapped with rags/ that smell of myrrh". In such a journey, the painting is now mythic, and the words explore immense ideas, enlivened by the narrative's touching on the absences echoing within each pitch of the brush. In this way the boats, singled out in the final lines, do act as sentinels, necessarily silent interpreters, the kind of evidence that the naked eye might not have seen otherwise. Such a narrative has gained some of its power from Goodwin's early lines about so much history happening (and except for the poem, all unseen) among the apparent the absence of things: "no sail, no paddle" and the "fishers ...fled in fear" as well as the tenor of sadness, mourning, that makes the landscape both solemn and touched by miracle. Now those echoing brush strokes of Van Gogh's sky seem to vibrate for me. Lovely. Amy Newman, October 2006
This gives a fresh, vivid feeling of early morning by the lake, almost as good as being there! I love the heron stepping from "her/ limousine of reeds", and the humour and contrasts in the early lines. I'm not sure about the title, which suggests the end rather than the beginning of the show, and which establishes the metaphor perhaps too early in the poem. You might have another look at the lineation: it seems a bit broken-up and I wonder if you might try to have lines that follow the sense more, keeping "And who's the most beautiful today?" on one line, for instance. You could try longer lines, such a "Morning draws long shadows across the water" - that might reflect the wide landscape you are in. I wonder about the mixed metaphor, "butler" and "tongue", in the last two lines, though the lines do give a feeling of grandness and expectation. A delightful poem. Jane Duran, March 2006
First Place, Crescent Moon Journal
Wonderfully textured imagery, splendid sounds and subtle treatment makes this poem outstanding. The images operate as a microcosm within which familiar (albeit unexpected) objects like brain coral, when seen through the prism of dryness, morph into something quite different. I admire the way the language builds up, often in paired images and crisp enjambed lines- brain coral & poinciana; tsunami & party boats; sand & tea cake houses; tree frog & crow; and finally water & whistle. In their sounds and juxtaposed relatedness, the way each image contributes to a bigger picture (never explicitly spelt) is simply amazing. The rhythm in the closing line “whisper water and its whistle” brings the dryness closer. For what indeed could be more telling, than dry lips, wood throats and speech reduced to whisper? The whistle of water on the stem of glass, while alluding to the central fragility of human experience, tilts the poem into profoundness, leaves a lasting impression.
Judge, Sachi Nag. August 2006
Desert Moon Review
Winter Poetry Contest - 3rd place
This eloquent piece uses the season to its best. At the same time, it also employs an effective contrast in colors: snow-covered marsh against red-haired boy, ravens against silver ring and cabin fire against winter lake. The imagery throughout is melancholy and powerful -- as if each vision is there to haunt the reader into coming to terms with the harsh season, mainly death.
"In Winter" begins on an almost fanciful image, adds sound and poignancy all in the first few lines; the energy, sweep and speed does not diminish and the reader is rushed through the poet’s landscape of references; I felt like a time traveler looking somewhat mournfully through the cabin window of my time machine. The excursion ends with a comforting and reassuring image, unexpected and yet natural to the poem.
The Guardian Poetry Workshop Shortlist 2005
Lost: Little Girl
This is marvellous. It expresses very economically and beautifully the thought that every parent/grandparent has had many times ... Don't they grow up quickly? The lack of punctuation adds to the headlong rush of time that is part of what the poet is saying. I would have had no capital letters either, I think. The fact that "Lost" is part of the title makes it seem as though the adult looking back is regretful, even sad, about the loss of this child's youth, which brings a sort of shadow to the picture. It's as though the 'growing' in the last line is some kind of sinister process: something the poet might want to turn back if she could. Or maybe I'm reading too much into it. In any case, a good poem. A clear picture. Adèle Geras August 2005
How to Survive a Tornado
Perfect rhythmically, original and beautiful. Were you aware of the echoes you set going with internal vowel rhymes: swim/ skin/ thin/ begins/ in/ within/? Congratulations! Anne Stevenson March 2005
I like the way this poem develops. The pace and rhythm are just right, and the title is good, too. I enjoyed the nicely poised last sentence, with its very effective use of lineation - a feature of the poem throughout, I thought: Chris Greenhalgh February 2005
Of the 12 poems shortlisted, this one alone seems to have a positive take on domesticity and the day-to dayness of life. The woman is luxuriating in simply turning over in bed and watching her man shower and ready himself. There is a confident celebratory, sensuous note and the poem's finish is lovely. "I slide over to your pillow, lie in the crease of you" is wonderful. Well done! Micheal O'Siadhail September 2005
Jessie Bryce Niles Chapbook Contest
Honorable Mention 2005
The InterBoard Poetry Community
First Place, September 2005 The Chewer
As with all my favourite poems, this says little and speaks volumes. Through the poet’s painfully clear description of a single incident, I was given a picture of a whole relationship, a lesson in the depths of feeling that lie behind silence. The profound impact of the opening statement on the speaker is there in the litany of ugly adjectives with which she describes her – I decided it was ‘her’ – reaction: the apple is “poisonous” (Snow White, anyone?), the piece in her mouth is a “slug”, her shadow perches “gargoyle-like”, unrecognisable even to herself. The lines on her struggle to swallow the apple noiselessly are masterful, full of sticky, clogging half-rhymes –"mush”, “suck”, “push” – and the lack of punctuation makes it impossible for us to tell whether it is her throat that’s “half closed, unwilling”, or she herself. In contrast with the oppressive silence of the first section of the poem, the final declarative lines sing out freely, with great power. The plate and the flies may be silent but, it seems, she’s no longer going to be. Wonderful stuff. –Sarah Crown
Third Place, July 2005 : The Murderers
For a sentimental poem, "The Murderers" is refreshingly simple and plainspoken. The catalog of detritus of one woman's life is richly interwoven with the speaker's guilt-ridden story of gradually getting over her death. The alternating metaphors of breadmaking and gravedigging make for a richly suggestive and unusual elegy. Aaron Welborn
Third Place, May 2005 : Remission
Like the tide mentioned in the first line, this poem operates by ebb and flow, alternating what will happen with what won't, yes and no, hello and goodbye. Fittingly, the syntax and slow pace are in keeping with that motion, gently tugging back and forth until the final release. Though the ending veers toward sentimentality, it holds back just enough. Aaron Welborn
White Pelican Review, Fall 2005
Comstock Review Vol 19, Number 1
Contemporary Verse 2
What if it's Endless
The Green Room
Wicked Alice Poetry Journal
The Poetry Super Highway, 2003
Featured Guest Poet,
the Albany Poetry Workshop, 2003