The Oldie Competition 106. An upbeat poem under the title 'RecessionConfession' Maximum 16 lines Entries to Competition 106 email comps@theoldie.co.uk by 19th December . Don't forget to include your postal address. Four or five prizes of £25 plus a bonus of aTaylor's of Harrogate tea and cake set. No, I don't know what that is either because I haven't won it - yet! Come on Sphereans. Thisis an easy one.

I'd never heard of the Oldie, but when I went to the website I perused the "Are you an Oldie?" quiz and saw question #3:

3. Do you know quite a lot of poems by heart?

The Oldie is edited by Richard Ingrams who was the first editor of Private Eye. There have been only two editors of Private Eye. Re Poems by heart - do you know a lot of poems by heart?

I'm on it!

Recession Confession

We're in the bailout,
No need to wail 'bout
How we don't have enough to make our payment soon!
Hooray for Paulson!
He's put his balls on
The tracks and claims the train
Won't come along at noon!

We'll get a brand-new mortgage
That's easy to pay,
And when the man comes callin'
We will have some dough to make him go.

We're in the bailout!
Let's get the mail out!
We'll post checks signed "X"
Just a'bouncing along--
Just lend it, send it, and we'll bounce 'it along!

So am I. Though I may need to post it to Metrical for help.
Update. Metrical came through, with David and Marian. I have a big divvy here.

Recessional.

I went to see my doctor and he placed his stethoscope
against my chest and said to me; “I fear there is no hope!
The Pound is gone, the bank’s collapsed, my holdings fall apart”.
“Oh Doc,” I gasped; “Thank God for that - I thought you meant my heart!”

I went to Father Reilly with a lurid, grim confession.
“Can I be saved?” “Oh yes”, he said; “The Church says this recession
means Limbo’s gone and Purgatory's doors are closed as well.
And now we can’t afford the coal that fuels the fires of Hell.”

We’ve pawned the fish-knives Norman, we’re renting from the maid,
she's now a civil servant with a pension (higher grade).
Each time that we go cruising we must bunk down with the crew-
the Rolls is gone and we're reduced to a battered bike for two.

We pedal round the neighborhood, we haven’t got a bob,
your uncles have moved in with us and none has got a job.
Please send a little money Son, no more am I a toff,
though with the grants the Council gives was never so well off.





[This message has been edited by Jim Hayes (edited November 22, 2008).]

I don't know how "upbeat" this is, but anyway ...

Recession Confession

Please, give me my job back! I don’t have a cent.
My dog has no kibble, I can’t pay the rent,
BANNED POSTBANNED POSTBANNED POSTI dine at soup kitchens, I’ve lost too much weight,
BANNED POSTBANNED POSTBANNED POSTCan’t treat my new girlfriend when out on a date,
Or buy gas for my car. Yet, why should I lament

My vanished reserves? It’s no help to resent
Economic decline. I am more than content
BANNED POSTBANNED POSTBANNED POSTThat I’ve still got my pooch. Oh, he ran out the gate.
BANNED POSTBANNED POSTBANNED POSTBANNED POSTBANNED POSTBANNED POSTPlease, give me my job back!

Since he’s starved as this country, I guess he’s hell-bent
About hunting his food. Now a well-to-do gent
BANNED POSTBANNED POSTBANNED POSTHas stolen my girl. Well, so much for my mate!
BANNED POSTBANNED POSTBANNED POSTWhile I can take comfort in knowing this great
Groundswell of gloom is a transient event,
BANNED POSTBANNED POSTBANNED POSTBANNED POSTBANNED POSTBANNED POSTPlease, give me my job back!



[This message has been edited by Martin Elster (edited November 22, 2008).]

Recession Confession


The worst of times, the best of times!
Despite the credit crunch,
Largesse will camouflage the crimes
Of bankers out to lunch.

The market forces fell and lo
The Keynsians have returned.
The Friedmanites turned out the light,
They’re out of here and out of sight
And Hayek had to go,
His reputation spurned.

Spontaneous Order came to grief
And Human Failings won.
Greed wasn’t good because the cake
Was small which was the main mistake
That beggared all belief.
My friends, we have been done.

_____
I'll write a more upbeat one John. This was too long too and the snips were a shame. Cooking as usual at this hour.

[This message has been edited by Janet Kenny (edited November 22, 2008).]

Well, this is a fine crop but remember - ya gotta be UPBEAT. How is recession good? I thought it might be because it got rid of the man Brown, but he seems to be doing quite well out of it, the gibbering ghoul. Then I thought it might put a stop to the London Olympics, but no, we'll spend. spend, spend on that one. Over here we're told it's patriotic to spend and sissy to save, so here's my take. Not too happy with the blizzard of -ose rhymes at the end but I can't think of a way to mend it.

Recession Confession

In the general malaise of these difficult days
We turn to the leaders we trust.
The advice of the wise we especially prize
And we do as they tell us we must.
To scrimp and to save is no way to behave,
Being selfish and mean and uncouth,
But just go out and spend and your troubles will end:
It’s a classical, Keynesian truth.

So I empty my stash of available cash
And make off for a day at the races,
Where a horsey old bird drops a politic word
And I wager the lot on that basis.
It’s a nag on the run at 100-1
Who is first past the post by a nose,
Which assuredly shows our recessionary woes
Are less potent than many suppose.




[This message has been edited by John Whitworth (edited November 22, 2008).]

It's a nag on the run at 100-1
Who is first past the post by a nose. . .

Might be funny to force the reader to say "to" when it's not visible.

Yeah Sam, that's good. I want to put 40-1 because I can't REALLY believe in a 100-1 shot. Besides,I love those PECULIAR odda 11-2, 9-4, 100-30, 100-8.

My favorite is 15-8 on.
Although that's maybe when the race begins.

Recession Confession (1958)

When I was young I stuck my tongue out sometimes at my Dad
Because he'd say, "Back in my day we really had it bad.
I'd work full-time to earn a dime, and put it in the bank.
Kids now just spend and so they'll end up one day in the tank."

And then I'd wake at dawn's first break to hear the rattling cash
He tried to shake from my own stake, my private little stash,
The bank that he had given me, a sailor-man of brass.
His voice was strange: "I just need change for coffee and some gas."

So when I'd go to check my dough I'd take my hollow man
And shake him ‘round to hear a sound like dry leaves in a can.
I had to see and used the key I'd hidden with my shoes,
And out would fall the scraps of all my Daddy's I. O. U.'s.

I'm not dismayed; he always paid me back, eventually,
Redeem his notes and watch stock-quotes. I never asked a fee
For what he took, but now I look to feather my own nest.
I should have said, "Just take it, Dad, but I CHARGE INTEREST!"

It's topping but I just wonder how it would be if it ended on a more rueful note- building up to How much I'd have if I'd charged interest?
Just a thought.

Recession Confession


The worst of times the best of times!
Despite the credit crunch,
Largesse will camouflage our crimes
And take us out to lunch.

Our monetarist Friedman creed
Will bend to Keynesian gales.
With modesty we drink to Greed
And tip the bathroom scales.

We smug fat cats sit on the mat
As assets stripped reveal
We still retain our habitat.
It is our pain you feel.

Calloo calay we take our pay
And spend your money too.
They bail us out so we can say
We did it all for you.



[This message has been edited by Janet Kenny (edited November 23, 2008).]

This one is probably too dated for such a late deadline, and over 16 lines--maybe I should ax the first stanza. Anyway, here's my effort:

[Relineated into 12 lines, per John's suggestion below. Plus a few other tweaks. Thanks, John!]

The flowers are dead. The leaves have fled. All colors have forgotten us
But red and green. The Yuletide scene each year grows more monotonous.
But wait! What's that? A bold éclat of neon Astrobrite!
A GOING OUT OF BUSINESS banner! What a welcome sight!

The shops' displays for holidays have bothered me each year.
Their mercenary making-merry seemed so insincere.
But this year, see how honestly they're drooling for my dough?
They're GOING OUT OF BUSINESS now, and EVERYTHING MUST GO!

Now churchy types can cease their gripes at neutral SEASON'S GREETINGS;
The pew-averse won't have to curse those MERRY CHRISTMAS sheetings.
Now no one whines at storefront signs' divisive words of peace!
Ah, GOING OUT OF BUSINESS! And the hopeful phrase FOR LEASE!

Julie Stoner



[This message has been edited by Julie Stoner (edited November 24, 2008).]

I think that is jolly good, Julie and you can always relineate in in very long lines. I'd hate to cut any of it. Give it a go.

Recession Confession #2 (Revised Dec. 1)

Dirk’s unemployed. Things he’d enjoyed are distant as the bees.
Yet he would say it doesn’t weigh on him. For groceries
He rides his bike now down the pike. He never drives a car,
And rarely goes to movies, shows, or to the sushi bar.

Yet life’s as fine as warm sunshine. He’s not the only soul
Who’s lost his job. Joe, Janet, Bob are also in a hole.
Last week the bank, like a mean prank, chose to foreclose his home.
Yet he had time to write a rhyme (a splendid little poem),

And mailed it to a contest, hit the jackpot, now he’s rich.
And in a word, the thing had stirred him toward his lifetime niche.
His friends are free to come and see the proverbs he has penned,
Like, “Steep declines can lead to lines that bring a dividend.”

Being out of work is fun for Dirk when art is all he’ll care for.
At dawn he writes, at dusk recites to anyone and, therefore,
It’s no surprise that, in his eyes, there is a hint of glee
When he sings how great is the current state of the economy.

-- Martin Elster



[This message has been edited by Martin Elster (edited December 01, 2008).]

Does anyone know who won the 'RecessionConfession' contest?

There were four winners but none of us made it. Since 'The Oldie' is not on the web you have to buy it to know. But fear not. I will keep you up to date. I thought some of ours were better than any of theirs, but that's the way it goes with competitions. I would print the winner but it's a bit of a sweat. His name is Peter Davies.

Thanks, John. I thought some of ours were pretty damn good.

Thanks John,
It's who you know she lied glibly.

Ours were terrific.
Janet

My curiosity was piqued, we had excellent poems I thought, so I wondered what marvels had edged us out.
We weren't even edged, not one HM among us.

This was the winner;
My credit card is Platinum -rated
I’m draught-proofed, lagged and insulated,
and I know it sounds a wee bit conceited
but I’m Christmas-bonus-ed and winter-heated.

By Council-officials I’m pampered and fussed
I’m Neighbourhood-watched, I’m community bussed,
they suggested a chair-lift, just in case
but I fear my bungalow hasn’t the space!

Dear Darling, I try hard to spend but I fear
‘There’s concessions for people of your age dear’
and though interest is low and the pound is weak
my premium Bond’s on a winning streak.

‘Live now and pay later’ the pessimist said
but by then, if I’m lucky, I may well be dead
so until this oldie bites the dust,
I’ll have me a boom instead of a bust.

Peter Davies.

And one of the MacGonagallesque runners-up ends;

I hitched a ride to where the whole world knows
A welcome is reportedly writ large--
Including food and lodging without charge.
Though at the start there was some opposition
They softened when they saw my dire position;
I’m in my old room now, whence Mum and Dad
Daren’t kick me out. This surely can’t be bad!

Gillian Ewing

I couldn't be bothered posting any of the others.

John if your cricket entry doesn't win, I won't bother supporting this lot again

I agree with your opinion of this clutchof winners, Jim. But I don't know how many of us actually entered. I did. And I prsume you did. I think we were good enough for £25. But I HAVE won an Oldie twice, so it can be done. Thank you for your support about my cricket poem, but some people, particularly women, have this blind spot about the noblest of games. Why, in the US you prefer to play rounders, a game desgned for the beach.

Well that settles it. We've all heard of the casting couch. nudge, nudge. Either that or the oldies have moved on to the next phase.

Or...
Someone is lurking at Eratosphere and thinks we're breaking the amateur rules.

Janet Kenny; Either that or the oldies have moved on to the next phase.

Janet, it's a cliche to say it, but I truly laughed, out loud.
Thanks.

Jim

I entered mine, but a.) I changed the title to Recession Carol, when the contest rules stipulated Recession Confession, and b.) my e-mail addy ends in aol.com, which is the Sign of the Beast according to some spam filters. Alas. Or c.) maybe they just didn't like it. At least I got a pretty good poem out of it, which I'll now send elsewhere. Thanks for letting us know about it, John!

I entered mine also. Who knows if it got there? I thought it was one of my better efforts. Oh, well ...

Mine was just taken by [i]First Things[i].