[John Whitworth]

I couldn't get a handle on modern maladies at all, but Bill Greenwell brilliantly could. The fiver should have been his. But congratulations all the same.

This Competition has surely appeared before. But the old tunes are the best, aren't they?


NO. 2715: in brief
You are invited to condense the plot of a well-known novel into a poem of 16 lines or fewer. Please email entries, if possible, to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 21 September.

[Jayne Osborn]

Yep, this idea's been done before, but it's fun. E.O. Parrott was the master at it. There's a short review of his two famous books here

I've got both of them and love to flip through them now and again. But something new and original is what's needed now for this comp.

[Roger Slater]

PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

It's quite well known a single man
who's rich must want a bride,
but sometimes courtships are derailed
by prejudice and pride.

How often? Well, it's hard to tell,
yet that's what happened when it
chanced that Mr. Darcy fell
in love with Lizzy Bennet.

When they first met, young Darcy seemed
too prideful for sweet Lizzy.
He tried to see her (it was love),
but she was always busy.

Eventually he proved himself.
With nothing to disparage,
Lizzy fell in love with him
and gave her hand in marriage.

[Martin Parker]

A young country bumpkin called Pip
Finds food for a con who’s jumped ship.
The con’s secret intent is to make Pip a gent
While he is in Oz on a trip.

The dotty old bird at The Hall,
Still dressed for her wedding and ball,
Tempts Pip with Estella. He, silly young fella,
Spends much of his life in her thrall.

And just as the plot really thickens
The con comes back, dies, and Pip sickens
That his great expectations upset his relations.
But the girl’s back, Joe’s loyal – what the Dickens!

[Roger Slater]

Good one, Martin. I'd put "great" in before expectations, both for the humor and because I think the line needs the beat.

[John Whitworth]

Cripes, you've only got to turn your back.A couple of strong contenders. Have at you then.


The Secret of Dorian Gray

Lord Henry Wotton is gay,
(Well. most of his friends are that way),
And he’s pissing his pants
For a chance at romance
With a honey called Dorian Gray.

This Dorian’s helluva hot
For a spell in the sack, and why not?
Added to which,
The sonovabitch
Doesn’t age – not a tittle or jot.

Yes, the sheen on his skin is as soft
As the bum of a boy. Has he quaffed
Some magical fixer?
His secret elixir
‘S a portrait he keeps in his loft.

[Roger Slater]

[I redid my Proust entry just below, so I'm deleting it from this spot. I decided to combine the short lines of the limericks into one line, which is something I've seen done before, in order to cram four limericks into 16 line limit]

[Roger Slater]

REMEMBRANCE OF THINGS PAST

All the memories lodged in the brain
Of Marcel, and there doomed to remain,
Are suddenly loosed, when by chance Mr. Proust
Bites into that damn madeleine.

Thus prompted, he writes down the drama
And heartache of waiting for mama
To kiss him good night -- but why can't he write
Without overusing the comma?

He journeys to Balbec, grows keen
On a pretty young thing, Albertine,
On whom he obsesses, but I'll give you three guesses
How that turns out (not to be mean).

His life is pathetic and sordid,
With every last detail recorded.
He's a sick, twisted guy, but he has a keen eye,
And the reader is richly rewarded.
.

[Orwn Acra]

A Clockwork Orange

Alex: droog.
Kunst der Fuge.
Lotsa sex,
Lotsa smecks --
Horrorshow!

Horror show:
No violence.
Know silence:
Johann bagged,
Alex fagged.

[FOsen]

Oh, yeah, July of 2010, it was. As I recall, Lucy cared not at all for my:

Unbearable Lightness of Being

There once was a surgeon from Prague
whose morals were wispy and vague.
He made love to a bevy,
while his wife played the heavy;
he was light, she was somber, as fog.

With his ethical guidelines ablur,
since existence can never recur,
he would cheat and philander,
then confess it with candor;
it just didn’t make sense to demur.

Then he saw through his new way of seeing,
that man’s still a lumbering being.
He determined that fate had
got him truly Czech-mated—
was that cumbersome, or was it freeing?

Frank