[John Whitworth]

Lucy comments on the influx from the USA (that's you folks). Chris O'Carroll and Bill Greenwell (a brilliant effort if I may say so) kept up our honour in writing anthems to Counties and States.

No. 2608: Descriptive power
You are invited to submit a poem in praise of adjectives (maximum 16 lines). Entries to ‘Competition 2608’ by midday on 5 August or email lucy@spectator.co.uk.

This is surely a goodie. The ghost of William Schwenk Gilbert stirs. I put my big ear to the ground.

[John Whitworth]

Well now. Nobody dipped a toe in the water? I told you W.S. Gilbert would come up with something.

Descriptive Power

My love is pulchritudinous, proportionate and glamorous.
She’s captivating, fascinating, feminine and amorous.
She’s scintillating, titillating, precious, paradisical,
Luxurious, voluptuous, delectable and physical.

She’s charming, cosmopolitan, sophisticated, thoroughbred
Splendiferous, magniloquent, illustrious and go-ahead.
She’s entertaining, debonair, delightful, indispensable,
Judicious, level-headed, sage, intelligent and sensible.

A loveless life is listless, luckless, feckless, sick and festering,
Malodorous, morbiferous, mephitical and westering,
Dysfunctional, detestable, destructive, deleterious,
Inadequate, impractical, unworthy and unserious.

All poet of a principled and passionate sincerity
Find well-selected adjectives contribute to their verity.
Ingenious deployments are sublime and unforgettable.
A Hemingway of verse would be obnoxious and regrettable!

[Martin Rocek]

Nice one John; how about this?

Without adjectives,

there would be no fast or slow,
everyone would simply go;
no cruel or kind, no tough or twee,
every tale would simply be;
no frantic, peaceful, low or high,
every bird would simply fly;
no colors, crimson, salmon, blue,
or florid lime or other hue,
no presto, largo, shrill or sweet,
every sound a tedious tweet.

No best or worst, without measure,
featureless, devoid of pleasure,
like a man without a face,
the world would be a dreary place.
Unmodified, we'd tumble faster
to unmitigated disaster.

[John Whitworth]

That looks a winner, Martin. It actually follows the rubric, which mine doesn't quite. Might I suggest that, to my ear at least, the first and last lines of the second stanza need some attention inthe scansion department.

to UNmiTIgaTED disASTer

You need something like UNimPEACHaBLE, though that unfortunately does not mean hat you want it to mean.

No best or worst, without CLUNK measure. I don't know how you mean that.

[Martin Rocek]

Thanks for catching my midnight bloopers as well you your kindness; how about

No best or worst, nothing to treasure,
featureless, devoid of pleasure,
like a man without a face,
the world would be a dreary place.
Unmodified, we'd tumble faster
towards unmitigated disaster.

[Roger Slater]

Excellent, Martin.

My only effort so far is meager in comparison:

It's obvious words adjectival
are crucial to human survival.
   Without them we'd think
   that a "poisonous drink"
was a "drink" -- we'd be dead on arrival.

[Roger Slater]

ADJECTIVES TO THE RESCUE

What color is that flower? Who can tell, oh!
Is it red? Is it purple? Is it yellow?

And won't you please describe for me its smell, oh!
Is it sweet? Is it acrid? Is it mellow?

If we had only nouns and verbs, dear fellow,
you'd stammer your reply like Lou Costello,

but there's no need for you to shake like jello.
Our language offers adjectives, as well, oh!

[Mary Meriam]

Really good, Martin. Better not use a title - they don't seem to be used at the Speccie. How about --

towards a final, damned disaster

I like the others here, too.

[Janet Kenny]

(John, now I can't do one of those. Yours is terrific. Octometer here I come.)



Oh festive board, oh shitty dog, and noisesome cat, my cunning tongue
is slippery, pleased to loudly laugh at spritely beasts, bright arbours hung
with vivid blossoms, heavy dropped on drowsy pates of lazy loons
who idly wait for fragrant plates of pungent broths, clean silver spoons
raised to the blazing golden sun that shyly shines through heavy vines
with prickly caterpillars clung, and loud with stripey insect whines.
Below merlot glows redly through clear glass to swiftly steal slow wits,
so shitty dog and noisesome cat are eager gobblers, the best bits
of gourmet-fare are largely scoffed by furtive beasts, while tipsy fools
oblivious and garrulous, are stupid, as grimalkin drools
and hairy Kaspar’s ancient skills demolish golden poultry roasts
before their sightless eyes, and pies, fruit-laden, crash, as drunken toasts
grow louder as besotted hosts and silly guests and louts carouse,
neglected birthday candles catch rogue winds and burn the fetid house.

[John Whitworth]

Now Janet, if that doesn't win Lucy needs to clean her ears out. Why am I ENCOURAGING you?