Contests : Contests to Avoid : Silver Cups

Silver Cups: An Account of the International Society of Poets Convention in Orlando, March 2004

by Mary Zayas

Ms. Zayas attended poetry.com's convention at Disney's Coronado Springs Resort Hotel, March 5-7, 2004. She writes:

The first day, I checked into the beautiful Coronado Springs Resort Hotel. People were lined up for what seemed like miles between the velvet ropes. It seemed a bit odd to me, because my letter had stated that only 36 of us that had been published in the book The Color Of Life were invited to read in the competition.

Upon noticing, I did see someone holding the slim volume of poetry, so I asked, and yes, they were also here to read in the competition. They also were under the impression that only 36 persons would be competing. I began to smell a scam.

The next morning was registration for the competition. As I waited, I noticed people wandering about with shiny silver cups and red and white ribbons with medallions hanging from their necks, big smiles on their faces. They looked so very proud. Dozens of them. The cup was a replica of the one I had at home. I received it by UPS the year before when I couldn't attend the convention. I paid $80.00 and they sent it to me. I got it right after my knee surgery. My poem was in a book then, too, The Sound of Poetry. I was so proud.

They told me at the desk my reading would be in Room C at 9am the following morning. What? I was lead to believe we would read before the entire convention. The smell is getting stronger. I am given a blue canvas bag with a book by Dr. Len Roberts, one of the speakers at the convention, and W.D. Snodgrass, a Pulitzer prize winner. I pass by a table set up by Watermark Press, a self-publishing company. They give away the publishing contracts in the contest. Not like Random House. They throw a paperback together, give you so many copies and then it is up to you to sell it. I took a good look at the books and my opinion is, I wouldn't want my poetry in between those covers. The paper was poor quality.

The rest of the day was workshops and open mikes. The workshops were valuable. I learned that haiku could be 17 syllables altogether, and the 3 lines could be divided any way, that it is merely custom to be 5/7/5 and not a hard rule.

The open mike rooms were not organized. No sign-in sheets, no time limit. You had to wrestle the mike away from someone. Poets had pages and pages of poetry in some instances. Then the banquet. Chicken, rice, buns, water, iced tea, coffee and dessert. No offer of a soft drink or wine—and my registration fee alone was more than $500! After listening to W.D. Snodgrass you need wine. The Marvelettes were great...the induction ceremony was not. They put glow-in-the-dark circles from Disneyworld on the table, had us twirl them in the air and we were now members! Hooray.

The rest of the convention was more of the same. Tables had been set up for poets to display work. Selling things mostly. The day of the competition, there was one poem I thought had merit: "The Cree Cree Train". The winner of the 20K was about a thick, gooey dessert filled with pecans, caramel and chocolate. No depth or relevance as far as I could tell. Everyone went out the door angry. One fellow that I had met earlier was into Yoga, and had taught me all about relaxation and his mantra. We exited the door at the same time. He was uttering, "This is bullshit." I laughed and said, "Is that your new mantra?"

They draw you in by making you think your poetry is special, then use people like Bob Eubanks and Dr. Len Roberts and Mr. Snodgrass to make it seem legitimate. I don't know where these people are when the convention is really going on...did Len Roberts judge that winning poem? I hope not! All in all I spent well over $1,200 and felt cheated.

Disney management asked me why, if it was a legitimate contest, so many people were walking around with silver cups? I just answered that I wondered the same thing, and if they cared about Disney's reputation, perhaps they should look into it. When I left to go home, I noticed several silver cups on the check-out counter with names scratched off, and filled with trash. I carried mine home on the plane. Everyone was curious and asked what I'd done to earn it. I told them proudly it was for my merit as a poet. Because no matter what a sham poetry.com is, I know I am a wonderful poet. Len Roberts never heard my poem, neither did Mr. Snodgrass. It was read in a tiny room away from everyone...and if you go, yours will be read there, too.