[Jayne Osborn]

We almost swept the board this month! 3 out of the 4 wins are by Spherians, and HMs to Jerome, Brian, Martin and Bazza.

Well done and significant congratulations to all of you, gentlemen!

(Next comp on a new thread.)

Jayne


The Oldie Competition
by Tessa Castro


IN COMPETITION NO 164 (a poem entitled ‘Significant Sound’) there was significant talent among the entries. Jerome Betts composed an acrostic with the initials of each line spelling out Streptomania, a play on the Latin name for collared dove, and, it emerged, on the twisting and turning of the would-be sleeper kept awake by it. Katie Mallett contrived a ‘whatdunnit’ about an unidentified slithery noise, finally revealed to have been caused by a roof tile. Brian Allgar gave a Jeeves short story in 12 lines, and Martin Elster told the tale of a shopper driven to theft by piped music. D A Prince wrote a slow-motion soundscape of a champagne bottle being opened, while Basil Ransome-Davies drew up a synaesthetic menu: ‘The paté’s lisp, the quail eggs’ chatter, / The crackle of a crisp ciabatta.’
Commiserations to them and congratulations to those below, each of whom wins £25, with the bonus Chamber’s Biographical Dictionary going to Chris O’Carroll.

After the last note, before the applause,
Comes a not-quite-unheard, not-quite-heard sort of pause,

Like the smell of a rainstorm ahead of the sound
The first drop plans to make as it touches the ground,

Or that click we perceive deep inside of a dream
In the instant before the alarm clock’s first scream,

Or that feathery something that ripples the dark
As the sunrise awaits the first note of the lark,

Or that now when there’s no deeper breath kids can take,
And they aim all their thoughts at the flames on the cake,

Or that moment when you’ve heard a ‘Will you?’ from me,
And my heart starts to know what your answer will be.
Chris O’Carroll

‘Hey Lazarus – come out!’
(‘I heard him through my wrap,
And through the stone door too!
I hadn’t known the chap
Had such a piercing shout...’)

‘It’s finished’ – final cry.
The ground shakes; temple veil
Rips from the top right down.
The soldiers’ faces pale,
Beneath a darkened sky.

World turmoil; markets slump;
Then comes a Leader new:
His scheme lasts just a while,
Enslaving all but few –
‘Game Over,’ calls Last Trump.
Graham King

‘My tummy’s got troubles; it’s fizzing with bubbles
And frightening gurgles abound!’
The doctor said ‘Curry’s the cause of your worries,
It’s not a significant sound.’

‘My car’s got a clatter! Whatever’s the matter?’
The motor mechanic soon found
A bit of lodged gravel was blighting my travel;
‘It’s not a significant sound.’

A presence was keeping my missus from sleeping,
So I got an exorcist round.
He told me ‘That humming is only the plumbing;
It’s not a significant sound.’

Outside there’s a liar who’s screaming out ‘Fire!’
To get me to climb to the ground,
But now I’m too knowing; I just keep on going
‘It’s not a significant sound. It’s not a
significant sound. It’s not a significant sound...’
Rob Stuart

Spring again and the swifts return. They scream
the evening light away. Their cries come back
with green bud-bursting times and we dare to dream
of warmth and easier days. Washing hangs slack
on lines, as mowers whine through soft afternoons.
Summer, then back to Greece or southern France;
we hear cicadas glaze the heat. The moon’s
quick rise means owls and nightbird shrieks.
A dance turns headlong, madly, round the lamp: big moths
thud glass with dark mysterious bodies.
Later I lie and hear the sea; spume froths
against black stone; I think of snow. Somebody’s
coughing down the hall; I think of death,
and cannot sleep until I hear your breath.
Jim C Wilson