Poetry Contests: How I Finally Began After I Retired

I waited a whole lifetime to make time for poems. Now I do.

I am a retired woman with a quiet house and a warm cup of tea. For many years I cooked, cleaned, raised kids, worked jobs, and helped my family. I told myself, “One day I will write.” But most nights I was too tired to do more than make a list for tomorrow.

Then I retired. The first week felt like a long weekend. The second week felt strange. By the third week, I took out an old notebook. I wrote three lines about the sound of my kettle. It made me smile. I wanted more.

One morning I found a page that listed poetry contests. I did not know where to start, but I picked one small contest with a short poem. I wrote. I read it out loud. My hands shook when I pressed submit. I was 68 years old and trying something new. It felt brave.

Why Poetry Contests Help Me

Deadlines help me finish.
Rules help me focus.
Themes help me start.
Feedback helps me grow.

I used to think contests were only about winning. Now I know the real prize is practice. Each contest is a little class. I learn by doing.

Forms I Have Learned (and Why They Are Not Easy)

When I first saw the word “haiku,” I thought it would be simple. Just a tiny poem! But small things can be hard.

• Haiku (5-7-5): three lines; first line 5 syllables, second 7, third 5. Short does not mean easy. The picture must be clear. The moment must be sharp. I learned to cut extra words and keep one strong image.
• 5-7-5 (modern prompt): some contests ask for a 5-7-5 that does not follow classic haiku rules about season or nature. I still have to count each beat. I clap while I read. I listen for the breath.
• Sonnet: fourteen lines, a rhyme plan, and a steady beat (iambic pentameter). A sonnet looks fancy on the page, but the real work is in the music. I mark the stresses with a pencil. I change words until the line sounds right. It is like walking while tapping your foot.

These forms looked simple from far away. Up close they asked me to be careful, patient, and honest. I like that. They make me better.

The Day I Fell in Love With Feedback

When I entered my first contest, I feared the comments. What if no one liked my poem? What if I made a mistake?

But the first note I got said, “Your last line felt like a door opening.” I saved that line in a small folder called “Kind Words.” On hard days I read it again.

The second note I got said, “Try a stronger verb in the second line.” I looked and saw the truth. I changed “went” to “rushed.” The poem felt new. I learned that feedback can be kind and useful. It can also make a friend.

Now I wake up excited to check my reviews. Sometimes I get a short smile. Sometimes I get a longer tip. Both help. Both tell me, “Keep going.”

My Morning Routine (Simple and Doable)

1. Make tea. Sit by the window.
2. Read one short poem by someone else.
3. Write three lines about something I can see, hear, or remember.
4. Pick one of those lines and make a small draft.
5. Read it out loud. Change one word.
6. If a contest deadline is close, polish and submit. If not, save and come back tomorrow.

This little plan fits in 15–30 minutes. It lets me win the day before lunch.

A Gentle Guide to Entering Your First Contest

1. Pick one small contest. A short poem is a good start.
2. Read the rules twice. Note line counts, topic, and due date.
3. Draft fast. Do not judge yet. Just get words on the page.
4. Read out loud. Your ear will find bumps your eyes miss.
5. Trim one line. Most poems get better when they get smaller.
6. Check the rules again. Make sure you followed them.
7. Submit. Breathe. Take a short walk. You did it.

If you want a simple place to find options, this page lists many online poetry contests. I keep it bookmarked so I can check new prompts when I am ready.

What I Learned About Losing

I do not win most contests. That used to sting. Now I treat losing like practice. I keep the draft. I revise it. I learn one thing and try again next time.

Every entry leaves me with a better poem than I had before. That matters. That lasts.

Small Lessons That Helped Me

• Count slowly. For 5-7-5, I clap each syllable. I do not rush.
• End strong. Put a concrete image at the end if you can.
• Use plain words. Simple words can carry deep feelings.
• Watch line breaks. Break on a word that deserves the breath.
• Save kind words. Keep a little folder for good notes. Read them on rainy days.

The Joy of Community

I expected to write alone. I did not expect to meet people. But the comments, the small chats, and the shared prompts made me feel part of a gentle circle. I made friends with people who live far away. We cheer each other on. We trade tips on forms. We share poems about gardens, grandchildren, and the smell of bread.

I thought I was late to writing. I learned I was right on time.

My First Big Stretch: The Sonnet

A sonnet scared me. Fourteen lines! A beat I could not see! Rhyme that had to land just right!

I read three sonnets out loud. I tapped my finger to hear the beat. I wrote one messy draft and marked the stress on each line. It took me three mornings, one walk, and a lot of tea. When the last couplet clicked, I smiled like a kid.

I did not win that contest. But I learned how to hear my lines. That win stays with me.

What I Do the Night Before a Deadline

• Read out loud once more.
• Circle one weak verb and fix it.
• Check the count (lines, syllables, or words).
• Make sure the title fits the poem.
• Sleep on it if I can. Fresh eyes help.

A New Step For Me: Prose Poetry

Lately I have been curious about prose. I like how a paragraph can hold a wave of feeling. I found a prose poetry contest. It is new to me, and that makes it exciting.

Here is how I plan to try:

• I will keep the music of a poem but write it in a small block of text.
• I will use image, rhythm, and line echoes, even without line breaks.
• I will choose one moment, like the morning my granddaughter learned to whistle.
• I will read it out loud and trim extra words.

Trying new forms at my age makes me feel bright and alive. It is good to be a beginner again.

A 4-Week Starter Plan (If You Want to Join Me)

Week 1:

• Read two short poems by other writers.
• Write a haiku (5-7-5). Then write a different haiku about the same image.
• Pick one and polish.

Week 2:

• Try a free-verse poem about a sound in your house.
• Read it out loud. Cut one line. Change one verb.
• If a contest fits, submit.

Week 3:

• Try a sonnet draft (do not fear the first mess).
• Mark the beats with a pencil. Fix just four lines today.
• Rest and revisit.

Week 4:

• Try a short prose poem about a memory.
• Read it out loud. Trim until it flows.
• Pick one finished piece and submit to a contest.

Small steps are still steps. You do not need to do it all at once.

Questions I Asked (Maybe You Have Them Too)

Am I too old to start?
No. A poem does not ask your age. It asks for your voice. Begin now.

What if I am shy?
You can be shy and brave at the same time. Share one poem. That is enough for today.

What if someone does not like my poem?
That will happen. It is okay. One kind note can balance ten quiet days.

What if I make a mistake with the rules?
You will learn. We all do. Read twice next time and try again.

A Final Word From My Kitchen Table

I waited many years to give my poems a real place in my day. Now I wake up, make tea, and feel a small spark when I think about a new prompt or a new form. Some mornings I laugh at my own lines. Some mornings I cross out half the page. But I always feel glad that I began.

If you want to try too, pick one contest and write one small draft. You can start with the list of poetry contests and see what calls to you. I hope you will take that step. I hope you will find what I found: practice, courage, and a kind circle of readers who are happy to meet you.

I thought I was late to writing. Now I think I arrived right on time.

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