It’s late notice, but this just arrived in my email box from a fellow NYU alum:
I’m judging this year’s Hippocrates Young Poets Prize for Poetry and Medicine, an international award open to poets aged 14-18 for a poem on a medical theme. If you teach high school students or have teens of your own who write poetry, I hope you’ll encourage them to submit.
The deadline is March 1, 2018 and the prize is a whopping £500 (~$700)!
For more information and to enter, visit http://hippocrates-poetry.org/.
If you don’t qualify–or write poems, but you know someone who does, please spread the word. Let us know if you enter, and be sure to announce it know if you win!
That One Writer says:
Thanks for telling us! Will check it out.
GJNWRITER says:
Ooh! Sounds interesting!
Sunny-Days says:
This sounds interesting, unfortunately I am below the age limit. Sounds like an amazing opportunity anyway!
Sanko says:
Gail Carson Levine, thanks so much for the post.Really thank you! Keep writing.
Zoe says:
Sadly, I’m a year or two under the age limit, but this looks fun! Hope to see more writing contests in the future!
keesto says:
Thanks, James A. Tweedie. If I’m not mistaken, it was George Bernard Shaw who sneered at Parry’s music, saying among other things that “Blest Pair of Sirens” was not as great as the poem it set to music. Shaw despised all three of the top English composers of the time (who all respected each others work). He said in effect that they were a mutual admiration society. Thanks for enlightening me about Frederick Charles Maker being the composer of “Rest” as the music for Whittier’s poem. I was raised outside the Anglican tradition and Maker’s setting was indeed the one I knew. It is as you say quiet and thoughtful. My father loved poetry and among his tip top favourite poems was Whittier’s “Snowbound.” He quoted short passages from it occasionally though more often he recited the entire “The Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers” by Felicia Dorohea Hemans. He always delivered the final lines in a hortatory, ecstatic voice: What sought they thus afar? Bright jewels of the mine? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?— 35 They sought a faith’s pure shrine! Ay, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod: They have left unstained what there they found,— Freedom to worship God.