Thanks for sending in all the poems.

Crime. Attractive/repulsive in about equal measures, I guess.

We love to read about it. And (be honest) we all of us just occasionally wonder what would happen if we ventured into dishonesty. But we none of us like it when it happens to us.

A few years back I visited Alcatraz. Well, if you're in San Francisco, you sort of have to. It's part of the itinerary. On the boat over I thrilled just a bit at the thought of legendary names. Al Capone... What name could be more glamorous?

But when I got there, what did I see. Something infinitely sad, infinitely banal. A shrine to human waste. Crime is so petty. So dull.

Yet I still like to read thrillers and see heist movies. I like the illusion, though I know it's an illusion. Don't you?

There's a tension here, a productive tension. I hope it's reflected in my choice of poems.

Apologies to those I didn't choose. Competition was tough.

Regards to all,

Peter Cavendish