“There were enough excellent poems among the submissions to fill an entire anthology,” said the esteemed children’s poet, Robert Schechter, who judged this year’s Caterpillar Poetry Prize, “proving that children’s poetry continues to thrive and that The Caterpillar Poetry Prize remains firmly at the centre.”
This year’s winner is British American writer Anna Llewellyn’s The Whistler of Muldoon. “It manages to feel fresh and new while simultaneously sounding like traditional folk poetry passed down through generations,” said Schechter.
“The poem’s charmingly implausible narrative about a man who taught the birds to sing unfolds with a bouncing rhythm and cadence that complement its gently humorous tone. Among my favourite lines are, ‘When he readied his lips in the tooting position, / Even the trees would stop swishing to listen.’
“When parents read The Whistler of Muldoon to their children ‒ which I highly recommend ‒ I suspect the children will listen as attentively as the trees."
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New York-based Anna Llewellyn’s art and poetry for children have appeared in Northern Gravy, Dirigible Balloon, The Toy Press, Little Thoughts Press and PaperBound Magazine, and her children’s plays have been produced across New York state. Anna was inspired to start writing as a child by her dad, who tells stories with the proper funny voices, and her mum, the best teacher she ever had.
“It is absolutely thrilling that Robert Schechter, who I consider as wonderful with words as the whistler is with whistles, selected it. I hope young readers enjoy The Whistler of Muldoon just as much! I admire anyone who spends their time writing for children, and it is really an honour to be included among the brilliant Caterpillar Prize-winning poets. You get well practised at rejection as a writer, so waking up to this news was such a happy shock!”
The annual prize, run by The Moth, has been judged in the past by such luminaries as Michael Morpurgo and Naomi Shihab Nye, and continues to inspire and encourage established and up-and-coming writers of children’s poetry from all over the world.
The Whistler of Muldoon
There once was a man from Western Muldoon
Who was able to whistle a marvellous tune.
When he readied his lips in the tooting position,
Even the trees would stop swishing to listen.
But he wasn’t so loved by the folk of the town,
Who would shout at that wonderful whistler, ‘Pipe down!’
‘Shut it!’ they’d say, ‘Enough of your tunes!’
‘Go waste your time elsewhere, get out of Muldoon!’
So the whistler would climb up Glenmorrison’s Mound
To practise his whistling high over town.
And because getting shouted at isn’t much fun,
He’d cheer himself up with a nice fresh iced bun.
Each day as he whistled and munched on his treat,
A handful of birds would collect by his feet.
At first the man thought they were looking for crumbs,
But he offered them pieces, and they wanted none.
The birds gathered round, settled in the grey thistle,
Simply to bask in that whistler’s whistles.
The woodpigeons, barn owls and wee chickadees
All wanted to hear his divine melodies.
Soon, birds from all over were coming to hear,
Flocking from places both distant and near.
The strongest birds carried those who were earth-bound,
So no bird was left off Glenmorrison’s Mound.
There were seagulls and puffins and terns from the coast ‒
They liked the soft lullaby whistles the most ‒
And herons and curlews and geese from the marshes ‒
They’re partial to upbeat and vigorous marches.
Sometimes the songbirds would sing and join in,
And a concert of whistles and tweets would begin,
And the glorious sound would waft down to the town,
Provoking the townsfolk to bellow, ‘PIPE DOWN!’
When the whistler walked home, they’d squawk in his face,
‘Can’t you stop whistling all over the place?’
But the man paid no mind, his heart far away,
With the blackbirds and robins and chiffchaff and jays.
One night, as he whistled the day’s final tune,
As he looked out at town and the big bright full moon,
He asked himself, ‘Why go on home to get mocked?
Why shouldn’t I roost with my actual flock?’
The birds trilled and chirruped and flapped with delight,
And with their claws lifted with all of their might,
Til the man sat on top of the strongest white swan,
With the clothes on his back, a tune, and an iced bun.
The orchestra took off into the warm night,
The crows, wrens and chaffinch, the swifts and the kites,
Flying along to the whistler’s tune,
And sailing together far from West Muldoon.
Not a soul really knows what became of that whistler,
But every so often, you’ll hear a strange whisper ‒
An odd nightly sighting, a massive white swan,
And in morning, a fresh trail of gold iced bun crumbs.
But each time that you hear a most lovely bird song,
So lovely the trees even listen along,
Remember that bird likely learned her sweet tune,
From that very same whistler, the man from Muldoon.
Anna Llewellyn
Anna will receive €1,000 and spend a week at The Moth Retreat in rural Co Cavan, described in an Irish Times review as ‘Rustic but cosy, pared back but comfortable, and full of eclectic touches, witty and warm.’
The second prize goes to Kao-Cheng Huang’s poem Someone Left a Moon, inspired by memories of his childhood in rural China. Kao-Cheng Huang lives in Taiwan. He has a D.Phil. in engineering science from the University of Oxford and is a Fellow of the Institution of Engineering and Technology. He chaired the Chinese Association of Mere-Consciousness (an academic and philosophical organization dedicated to the study of the Mahayana Buddhist tradition of Vijñaptimātra) from 2012 to 2017 and currently serves as its board member. He has co-authored several academic books, the most recent being Conscious AI.
Schechter commented: ”Someone Left a Moon made me feel as though I were reading a marvellous 133-syllable haiku. The 18th-century Japanese Zen monk and poet Taigu Ryōkan wrote, ‘The thief left it behind: / the moon at my window.’ Kobayashi Issa wrote, ‘A good world— / the muddy puddle / holds the summer moon.’ (Both translations by Stephen Mitchell). Someone Left a Moon carries on that elegant tradition, using vivid imagery to turn the distant and mysterious moon into something intimate and close at hand."
Laura Schulkind’s poem Maybe Call Me Baby bagged third prize. Laura has published two poetry chapbooks, Lost in Tall Grass and The Long Arc of Grief, and has been published in numerous journals. Her sonnets have received several honours, including the Maria Faust Top Four prize. A ‘mostly-retired’ lawyer, Laura serves on the board of the Henry Miller Memorial Library in Big Sur, California, where she created the virtual poetry series Lines Online in the early days of Covid and edited the anthology that followed. Laura continues to create poetry events designed to challenge silos as a special projects docent at Tor House, the home of California’s famous poet, Robinson Jeffers. She is also a member of her local volunteer fire department.
“Maybe Call Me Baby earns a place in the winner’s circle,” says Schechter, “for the way it speaks convincingly in the voice of a child without sounding childish. The speaker is thoughtful, logical and observant, with a wonderful sense of irony. I enjoyed the poem not just for what it says, but for making me feel as though I were being addressed by a real kid ‒ and a likeable one at that."
Kao-Cheng and Laura receive prize money of €500 and €250 respectively. Robert Schechter also commended poems by Matt Abbott, Victoria Gatehouse, Anya Lin Husain, Chris Pearson, Rachel Piercey and Sarah Ziman.
Alongside The Caterpillar Poetry Prize, The Moth runs three annual literary prizes. The Moth Short Story Prize, judged by Wendy Erskine, closes on June 15th; The Moth Nature Writing Prize, judged by Sean Borodale, will open on June 17th; and The Moth Poetry Prize will open in August.
