[Martin Elster]

Poem deleted by author.

[John Whitworth]

Nice try, Martin, but I question the voluptuous legs - the speed of a swallow, the grace of a boy, don't you know. Unless you think that a boy's legs would be voluptuous. To me voluptuous legs are something more in the Jane Russell/Dorothy Lamour line. We're talking more Hayley Mills here.

[Martin Elster]

Originally Posted by John Whitworth

Nice try, Martin, but I question the voluptuous legs - the speed of a swallow, the grace of a boy, don't you know. Unless you think that a boy's legs would be voluptuous. To me voluptuous legs are something more in the Jane Russell/Dorothy Lamour line. We're talking more Hayley Mills here.

Thanks, John.

You are right about that. In fact, you pinpointed the exact word I was doubtful about. I replaced it with "lithe, sinewy legs." I don't know if the poem as a whole is all that interesting, but at least it has a hint of a story. Thanks again.

Martin

[Janet Kenny]

Don't panic! Don't panic!

I went to Google to look for the competition and bless me, Eratosphere is there in all its glory. Gail I read your magnificent poem on Google.

Joan Hunted Undone.

[E. Shaun Russell]

A Subaltern's Love Song Redux

Miss J. Hunter Dunn, Miss J. Hunter Dunn,
Wrinkled and shrivelled from far too much sun,
You used to be nimble, athletic and spry
But now you appear about ready to die!

At thirty and forty you still had your game,
Could put Sharapova and Williams to shame,
But then something happened -- age charged you a fault,
Your gears became rusted and ground to a halt.

The balls you now play read B-I-N-G-O,
The call of the judge is now deaf to you, though,
Oh how must it feel to go through each day
Knowing stars don't "retire", but just fade away!

Withered, demented, your hair in a bun,
It's time to come home to me, Joan Hunter Dunn,
The courtyards of heaven are calling your name,
We're both tied at love, let's start a new game!

[Martin Elster]

That's a good one, Shaun.

[Orwn Acra]

See, Shaun, you can do light verse.

[Jerome Betts]

Oh, to be in Yankland now that Elster's there, And . . . can quite legitimately rhyme 'better' with 'cheddar'. Inability to do so is the price some of us in England pay for realising 't' between vowels as voiceless alveolar stops.

[John Whitworth]

And just think what Ogden the great Nash can do that we can't, Jerome. I quote from memory.

The turtle lives 'twixt plated decks
That practically conceal its sex.
I think it's clever of the turtle
In such a fix to be so fertile.

And I could try one:

I sent an epistle.
I sent it by missile.
I hope it's OK
But it's quicker that way.

Of course that would be because I didn't have email.

[Martin Elster]

Originally Posted by Jerome Betts

Oh, to be in Yankland now that Elster's there, And . . . can quite legitimately rhyme 'better' with 'cheddar'. Inability to do so is the price some of us in England pay for realising 't' between vowels as voiceless alveolar stops.

That's true, Jerome. I often feel guilty rhyming 'better' with 'cheddar' or 'beater' with 'weeder.' Yet some of you folks rhyme words like 'awed' with 'afford,' or 'gnawed' with 'chord,' which I view as slant rhymes. But that's the beauty of vernacular.