Some Blind Alleys is holding a Christmas Poem Contest. There is no cash prize, but the winner will become incredibly famous for winning: the poem will be published for about two weeks at the end of December (while the editor is on vacation).*
Top prize: A t-shirt saying you are the poetic equivalent of Jesus; infinite glory; bragging rights; the certainty that you are better than your peers.
Second, third, etc, prize: None. If you do not win, you deserve nothing. You make me sick.
Deadline: December 1, midnight.
Judge: Greg Baxter.
How to enter: Submit your poem through the SBA online submission form. Please do not send more than one attachment at a time (otherwise it will not come through). Choose “Other” for the category, and note, in the comments section, that it’s a contest entry.
The poem should be no longer than 30 lines, but if it must be, it can definitely be no longer than 40 lines.
How to win: Don’t take it too seriously. All serious poetry will be disqualified. Humor, bad language, hyperbole, filth, alcoholism, indifference, loathing, presents, Santa, joy, elves, death, cold, endless misery, terrible neighbors, cookies, fuzzy reindeer: these are all acceptable themes. Generally anything with the following rhyme scheme will be disqualified: abab, cdcd, efef, etc., or aabb, ccdd, eeff, etc. However, if the poem is REALLY funny and has that rhyme scheme, it will probably/definitely win.
Do I need to be a good poet to win? You only have to be the best poet alive.
Am I serious about this? Definitely. The winner will be announced at the Some Blind Alleys Christmas Party, December 5, at Le Cirk, at 8 p.m.
What makes me think I can judge poetry? What makes you think you can write poetry?
*Sadly, the poem will not stay on the main column after publication. This is probably good news for the winner, because it means it will not affect the poem’s eligibility to be published in the New Yorker, where it will no doubt end up.
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