[John Whitworth]

The Language Barrier proved too much for me, and, at least in Lucy's opinion, for most of you. The ever-excellent Chris O'Carroll carried our banner alone. I am especially indebted to him for providing a source for the phrase 'I collect' used throughout Patrick O'Brian's novels.


Competition No. 2659 Novel approach
You are invited to take the title of a well-known novel and write an amusing poem with the same title (16 lines maximum). Entries should be submitted by email, where possible, to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 4 August.


The new competition looks to provide plenty of scope. The Turn of the Screw? What Katy Did? Oh dear. More rudery.

[Martin Parker]

The title of a novel, but used instead as the title for an amusing poem. John, I agree it is a gift for the rude, lewd and louche. So here is my first effort ! --

WUTHERING HEIGHTS

Young Emily wrote a love story of note
without any first-hand experience.
She wrote of lust’s urging although, as a virgin,
she’d suffered no man’s interferience.

Marooned on the moors behind vicarage doors
she smouldered but managed to hide it.
Her father the Vicar would have been sicker
than parrots had Emily tried it.

Thus, forced to be modest and decently bodiced
she dreamed of love’s secret delights
and how it would feel were a young man to steal
just a peek at her wuthering heights.


It might acquire another four lines later. But short ones often seem to creep into the paper -- if only, perhaps to help redress the imbalance caused by the devious buggers who frequently write in very long lines in an attempt to reduce the number of winners and thus to increase their own cash prizes! Not that this has ever been true of any Eratospherians, of course.

[Roger Slater]

THE SUN ALSO RISES

The sun shines brightly.
The sun sets nightly.
Though clouds may obscure it,
it's never unsightly.

Among its surprises
each night as it dies is
the fact that each morning
the sun also rises.

[John Whitworth]

Sorry.I forgot to put the competition in. Fixed. I wonder what 'amusing' means. Is this amusing?

The Stone Diaries by Carol Shields

He moved by night. He went alone.
He crept through corridors of stone
Into her reveries of bone.

He’d drawn a blank. The bird had flown.
His friends were fled, his cover blown
And this time he was on his own.

The night was right as pheromone,
A scattering of starlight thrown
Across the void of the unknown,

The wind became a sousaphone
Beneath the howling of the drone,
His homicidal chaperon.

Her wildernesses overgrown,
Her staunch, indomitable moan,
He guessed, though he was never shown.

He moved by night. He went alone.

[Roger Slater]

A TALE OF TWO CITIES

There once was a man from New York
Who thought that his spoon was a fork.
 He said with a smirk,
 "This darn thing won't work.
I can't seem to get enough torque."

He flew off at once to Beijing
To see what luck chopsticks would bring.
 The sad truth was: zero.
 So much for our hero.
He died from not eating a thing.


See Post #7, below, where I rewrote the second limerick.

[John Whitworth]

THAT is certainly amusing. I'm not sure mine is. Here's another, more amusing I think. Is the novel well enough known? I've never read it, in fact barely heard of it, but I hope that's me.

Cry Freedom by John Briley

Morning’s at seven. I wake up and think,
In spite of the women, the fags and the drink,
My heart is still beating, my blood is still flowing,
My feet are still equal to coming and going.
I heave myself upright and reach for the pills
That my quack prescribes freely for various ills.
There are two for my belly and two for my bottom
And two for an itch that I had when I got ’em.

So now I’m successfully up on my legs
I stomp down for coffee with bacon and eggs,
A stroll in the park, which is free as the air,
And a free minibus to the library where
I can read my free books and consult my free emails,
(Fond stuff, for the most part, from several free females)
Then draw out more cash (pension-credit) all free,
For I’m seventy-seven and free as can be.

[Roger Slater]

I rewrote the second limerick in the pairing I posted above:

A TALE OF TWO CITIES

There once was a man from New York
Who thought that his spoon was a fork.
 He said with a smirk,
 "This darn thing won't work.
I can't seem to get enough torque."

There once was a man from Khartoum
Who thought that his fork was a spoon.
 He said, "It's a sin,
 This soup is too thin
For diners like me to consume."

[Orwn Acra]

the Grapes of Wrath

O! Bacchus, I am through with you. Each year you strip me clean
as you prattle on and rattle on your golden tambourine.
I'm your four-and-twenty virgins, I'm your Sophrosyne queen,
I'm your Venus of Urbino with an egg tempera sheen,
so you pluck me and abduct me with a hedonistic mien
and you drop me in a bottle and you drink me till you’re green.

So, Bacchus, please come hither, dear, I’ve something to convey:
you shall fear me and revere me when the tide is turned my way.
In a fruity Sangiovese, in a tepid Beaujolais,
in the enigmatic whispers of a drunken sommelier,
I am lurking. I am working towards that unexpected day
when I drown you and confound you and I take your breath away.



I don't like the last bit of the last line but I'm tired and I'm going to bed.

[John Whitworth]

A splendid piece, Orwn. Perhaps you're right about the last bit of the last line but I'd never have noticed if you hadn't drawn attention to it.

[Roger Slater]

Nice one, Orwn. I see no problem with the last line either.


ALL THE KING'S MEN

When Humpty Dumpty fell off the wall
We were the medics who handled the call.
We put him in our ambulance
And tried to fix his scrambulance,
But the best laid egg of fowl or hen
Could not be put back together again.