Tag Archives: Maggie Wadey

Maggie Wadey – Blue Nile, White Nile.


My grand-daughter used to know everything.
When she was six she told me the Nile has two names:
the Blue Nile and the White Nile. ‘Sometimes it’s called one,’
she said, ‘sometimes the other’, though she couldn’t say why
and, to be honest, nor could I. She informed me I should not
eat meat, and must never be unkind to earwigs who are
such brilliant mothers. Her logic was somewhat hit and miss
but informed with great passion, her disapproval coloured
with satisfaction at her own moral superiority. Now, in her teens,
she’s aware I already know some of these things for myself but,
since my generation is famous for being foul-mouthed and hair-raisingly
incorrect on anything you care to mention, she never falls short
of opportunities to lecture me, to continue her benevolent project of trying,
against all the odds, to make a better person of me. Doubt, of course,
comes on with age – hers as well as mine – allowing us to linger
in the reeds of the mysterious Nile, like Moses in his basket,
unsure whether we are floating in the White water or the Blue,
or when, without warning, we might sweetly over-flow.

‘Blue Nile, White Nile.’ won 3rd prize in the Sentinel Literary Quarterly Poetry Competition (July 2021) judged by Paul McDonald.

Maggie Wadey

Maggie Wadey writes novels, TV screenplays and poems. Her most recent book is a memoir of her mother and Ireland, ‘THE ENGLISH DAUGHTER‘ (Sandstone Press, 2016). She has two poems in a new Norman Nicholson anthology of lockdown poetry ‘The Unpredicted Spring‘ and is short-listed for the Well Festival Poetry Prize this October. She lives in Hackney, London, with her husband, an actor.

Maggie Wadey – The Hare


A hare isn’t always in a trap
or hanging from a butcher’s hook.
It isn’t always being jugged, or stewed,
nor is it necessarily a symbol for something else,
a fairy story, or a woman gone mad. A hare isn’t
always the subject of a sketch or even a poem.
Mostly, it is itself, rare, but somewhere out there
on the hillside or in the grass beside the river,
super-vigilant, the way hares are, sleeping with its
gentle eyes wide open and, in an act of faith,
running with them closed, a creature of that light
which falls between day and night. And the fact
that we don’t see her doesn’t mean she does not
exist – unlike the shape-shifting atoms of scientific myths.
Take yourself out of the picture. Leave her free
to race beyond the snare of your words.

‘The Hare’ by Maggie Wadey was highly commended in the Sentinel Literary Quarterly Poetry Competition (April 2021) judged by Mary Anne Smith Sellen.

Maggie Wadey is a novelist, screenwriter and poet. Her mother was Irish and her father English. In 2016 she published ‘The English Daughter’ (Sandstone Press) a memoir of her mother and Ireland. She has recently completed a novel, ‘Eros In Blue’, composed of eleven closely-connected parts, and in October last year she won first prize in the Wells Literary Festival Open Poetry Competition. She lives in Hackney, East London, with her husband and more than a thousand books.

Sentinel Literary Quarterly Poetry Competition April 2021–Report and results


Adjudication Report


clip_image002Judging the April 2021 SLQ Poetry Competition has been both a privilege and a pleasure, so I would like to start by thanking everyone who submitted; I very much enjoyed reading your work. It was intriguing to see what subject matters had inspired the poems: mythology, local history, biography, personal experience, humour, lockdown, loss, place and nature – trees, birds, wildlife and weather. There were more concrete poems than I had expected, and fewer formal. It was obvious that much thought and research had been invested in many of these, and I learned a lot from them. As I correctly anticipated, it proved to be a difficult task to sift down a shortlist of twelve poems from out of several hundred entries – but it had to be done. Ultimately, I chose the poems that struck me the most, by their imaginative use of language, rich imagery, the discipline and skill demonstrated in their crafting and editing (the ‘less is more’ approach), and from how they remained with me – even after just one reading. I hardly need to say that many of the submitted poems ticked all these boxes for me, so please don’t be disheartened if your work hasn’t been placed this time. These are my own individual choices, and another judge may well have chosen differently. A few things to consider, if you are a less experienced writer: I have always found that it helps to read a poem out loud, as this will straightaway flag up any issues with repetition, enjambment, punctuation and flow. Having someone else read your work (on the page and out loud) is also a useful exercise, as is taking work to be critiqued by a writing group. The first time you do this can be quite daunting, but it can also prove to be invaluable – and I speak from personal experience. Most writing groups are friendly and encouraging, and you can learn so much from other writers. So – please keep writing, keep learning – and keep submitting!

First Prize: Snowy Owl

This poem caught my attention from the first reading. Its delicate form perfectly captures the owl’s elusive nature and distinctive appearance, and in its spareness, the bleak landscape of their habitat. From the opening line ‘pale tossed blossoms / coalesced’, with its mythical hints, the succinct choice of language and imagery holds the reader spellbound and breathless throughout, as though sharing the owl’s flight. I was also impressed by how much thought had gone into the layout of the poem, and the highly effective use of spacing.

Second Prize: View from Dystopia

This captivating poem impressed me from the start. I like the way Szymborska’s style has been effortlessly referenced here, as the poet describes their own first meeting with her work. ‘I carry in my pockets a loose change of words’ is a line that particularly resonated with me, after reading the Syzmborska poem that had ‘stuck within the core’ of the poet.

Third Prize: Flattened

A wonderful dialect poem, which describes with ironic humour how a photographer takes detailed photographs of Scottish streets just before they are all swept away. It immediately brought to my mind the paintings of Glasgow streets and their children by the artist Joan Eardley, whose centenary is being celebrated this year with many exhibitions and events. There is great poignancy in the personal detail (‘the wee yin’s dress swung, flitting like she was dancing in it’), and particularly in the closing line where the narrator reflects how they still occupy those streets, albeit only in the never-seen photographs.

Highly commended:

The Hare

Hares are a perennial source of inspiration for writers, but I like the way the poet turns this on its head by delightfully suggesting that they should be allowed to exist ‘beyond the snare of your words’.


An evocative and closely observed tour through the sad ruins of a Welsh cottage, likening it in turn to a wrecked boat, a human body and a graveyard, where nature is gradually reasserting control and only different types of silence remain.

Soch Vichar

A perfectly paced and thought-provoking poem, beginning with a description of fire as something beautiful and useful. In the third stanza the poet then seamlessly turns this to suggest a more disturbing outcome, culminating in an unequivocal warning in the final line.


Frankenstein’s Dog

Written from the point of view of the dog, I was particularly struck by the precise handling of this unsentimental expression of loyalty.

Chatsworth Street

This poem deftly describes a return visit to a former family home, reflecting on the different atmosphere and attitudes – and smells – to be found there now, and why it is that we only ever seem to remember the days of sun or snow from our childhood, never rain.

Sumburgh Head

In this beautifully paced and acutely observed poem, an RSPB webcam at Sumburgh Head in Scotland helps to sustain the housebound narrator throughout the long days of lockdown, as does the familiar voice of the Shipping Forecast during sleepless nights.

Special mentions:

Sundial in glorious pestilence of clover mites coming up through cracks

Intriguingly titled, this wonderful, visual poem vividly evokes memories of time spent in the garden of a former family home, as a series of flickbook images.

The Legacy of Alice Cliff Scatcherd

In the voice of suffragist Alice Cliff Scatcherd, this beautifully worded poem describes her life and legacy as a tireless campaigner for women’s rights.


We return to the garden in this poem, and the perilous task of growing flowering plants from seed in unpredictable weather, A very original take on a perennial problem, adeptly done.


Special mentions

Ted Gooda – Seeds

Becky Cherriman – The Legacy of Alice Cliff Scatcherd

Becky Cherriman – Sundial in glorious pestilence of clover mites coming up through cracks


Ama Bolton – Sumburgh Head

Trevor Breedon – Chatsworth Street

D A Angelo – Frankenstein’s Dog

Highly Commended

Wendy Toole – Soch Vichar

F. Philip Holland – Bwthyn (Cottage)

Maggie Wadey – The Hare

Third Prize

Debbie Love – Flattened

Second Prize

Julie Anne Gilligan – View from Dystopia

First Prize

Marilyn Donovan – Snowy Owl

Sentinel Literary Quarterly Poetry Competition