Whitsundays Writers Festival Announces Stanza Bonanza Winner
The Whitsundays Writers Festival is pleased to announce Linda Daniele as the winner of its 2026 Stanza Bonanza poetry competition.
Presented to mark World Poetry Day, the competition invited poets of all levels to submit an original poem of up to 20 lines inspired by the prompt: “A Whitsundays postcard from 100 years ago, or 100 years from now.”
Festival Director Richard Evans said the competition attracted thoughtful and imaginative entries that captured the rhythm, beauty, and spirit of the region through a wide range of voices and perspectives.
“The response to Stanza Bonanza was a wonderful reminder of how powerfully poetry can connect place, memory and imagination,” said Richard. “Writers embraced the prompt in inventive and surprising ways, and the standard of entries was exceptionally strong.”
Based in Sydney, Linda Daniele is a writer, journalist, and editor.
She has worked in legal publishing for more than 15 years and as a freelance journalist, and edited the On The Side. Her writing has also been recognised in the Sydney Mardi Gras Short Story Competition.
The winning poet receives a $100 cash prize and a free day pass to the 2026 Whitsundays Writers Festival, to be held on Sunday 13 September 2026 at the Whitsunday Marine Club.
Richard said the Stanza Bonanza competition was created to encourage creativity, celebrate emerging voices, and invite more people into the literary life of the region.
“We’re grateful to everyone who entered,” Richard said. “The quality of work we received was inspiring, and we encourage all entrants to keep writing, keep experimenting, and keep sharing their work.”
The 2026 festival programme and tickets are now available via the festival website.
2026 Stanza Bonanza Winner: Linda Daniele
Winning Poem: Dear You—
The sea is still deciding what blue means,
leaning toward glass, an unbroken sentence.
Whitehaven curls like a comma, holding breath
between tides that forget their beginning.
I walked where the sand sang underfoot,
each step a small confession to the wind.
Boats drift like thoughts left unsent,
anchors asking the seabed to belong.
I don’t know which year you are reading from—
here, the reef is a half-remembered cathedral,
rooms of colour dimmed or blazing
by the faith of those who arrive.
Fish flicker like bright ellipses,
and silence swells, the loudest thing alive.
If this is the past, we were careless with forever.
If this is the future, tell me what forgave us.
I send this on a wind that does not age,
creased like something held too long.
Wish you were here,
wherever “here” still is.
(Credit: Linda Daniele, 2026)