CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS: JOHN MILTON POETRY COMPETITION

MILTON SOCIETY OF AFRICA

Presents

JOHN MILTON POETRY COMPETITION
(Sponsored by: Milton Society of Georgia)

THEME: ANY TOPIC

PRIZES TO BE WON

• First Prize: $50
• Second Prize: $30
• Third Prize: $20

OTHER BENEFITS

• Award of Certificates of Participation to all Entrants.
• Award of Certificates of Excellence to only the shortlisted entrants.
• Only shortlisted work(s) will be published in e-book format
• Automatic membership into the Milton Society of Africa (MSA).

SUBMISSION GUIDELINES

• Language Medium – English
• Genre – Poetry
• Theme – Any Topic
• Poems should be between the minimum of 20 lines and maximum of 40 lines.
• Entrants should send the following information alongside their entries
i. Name
ii. Age
iii. Gender
iv. Location
v. Phone Number
vi. Where you heard about the Call for entries
vii. Short Profile about yourself.
viii. Permission to publish your poem/essay (in one or two paragraphs)
ix. Name of school or university if any
• A Sentence of not more than 50 words describing the poem.
• Permission to publish your work among the shortlisted entries.
• Title of your mail should be addressed as “John Milton Poetry Competition”
• All entries must be submitted to: miltonsocietyofafrica@gmail.com
• Deadline for Submission is 15th of September, 2022.
• Any signs of plagiarism will disqualify the entrant.
• Organizer’s decision is final

For more information contact: Wole Adedoyin (Milton Society of Africa) – woleadedoyin@gmail.com.

He died.
His sister’s tender hand did not smooth the pillow on his bed;
his sweetheart did not look into her lover’s room with mystic sorrow;
his acquaintances did notinquire about his health;
a calm and gentle person did not grant him forgiveness
on his deathbed –
although his confidence had been shattered
and he still wanted to hear some soothing words;
his mother did not shed bitter tears.

He died in another country.
“He was suffering from several diseases. No single treatment could cure him,”
the doctor explained
to his colleagues.
An autopsy was performed.
The professor dropped his hands and exclaimed in astonishment,
“Sirs, just look! What’s happening here?”
They looked at each other in amazement.
“Gentlemen, where has the heart gone?”
There were only ashes in place of the heart.
The mother, appalled at the tragic news received in a telegram, entered her beloved son’s abandoned bedroom.
She sobbed, “You had no pity on your widowed mother.
Where is your nice heart that I put in your chest with torture and torment at birth?”
The map hanging on the wall answered, “I withered it.”
“I burned it,”

No one heard the words.

poemata miltoni scripta sunt anglice, ad audiendam anglicorum
nunc nos oportet latine scribere, lingua universa ad usum nigeriorum