[Brian Allgar]

Very nice, Roger. And an excellent example of what I meant by verse that makes perfect sense on its own terms, which are themselves nonsensical.

[Ann Drysdale]

Ah, the swoop and the sea
of the bank and the brie
and the pip on the page of the poor
and the guttural goose
of the lemma-go-loose
and the coat on the back of the door

With the weaselly sneeze
of the knobkerrie knees
as they hirple like holes in the head
it shoogles and shakes
with whatever it takes
till it grows like a poem instead

On the through and the thrill
of the hole on the hill
to the park in the pick of the pole
and the harp and the hat
of the bobblesome bat
and the multimelodious mole.

For the rough and the thick
of the quire and the quick
will betoken the broken before
and the bibulous bend
will return in the end
to the coat on the back of the door.

[Mary Meriam]

It's a winner whether it wins or not, Annie. Love it!

[Ann Drysdale]

Thank you, Mary. I'm chuffed you like it - and if the LitRev don't, who cares? Wheee!

[Lance Levens]

I've Seen You Before

I've seen you before
in a painting of yore
on the Rhone with that cone on a raft.
You were humming a tune you'd picked up in Rangoon
and it drove the poor woman daft.

I've seen you before
by that shimmering shore.
You were spooning your soup in a sieve.
You slurped like mad while a moon-faced lad
sliced up your vice with a shiv.

I've seen you before
where the penguins yell: Fore!
You were watching the weatherby sway.
You danced the fandango while eating a mango
and wept when they led you away.

I'm sure you're the fella
whose wild tarantella
brought down the rafters in Nice
they still tell the story it's stylish but gory
of the dancer who just would not cease

[John Whitworth]

Now this is what I call a nonsense poem, and a very good one too. Bung it in, Lance, there are three hundred pounds which may well have you name on it. I wouldn't go to the stake for it but I think you may have misspelled tarantella.

At least I think Belloc spelt it otherwise.

[Adrian Fry]

In reading - and writing - a lot of nonsense verse lately, I notice certain words come up over and again. Sieves, wardrobes and noses are three examples. Perhaps the influence of Lear and Carroll is to blame, but we seem almost always to be in a world of Victoriana where trivial domestic items are contrasted and conflated with fantasy lands that could as well represent the Empire. Computers and cars never get a look in.

[Brian Allgar]

True, Adrian, although I managed to get a chainsaw into one of mine.

[Adrian Fry]

I got a fork lift truck into my entry for this comp. But there's a wardrobe in there too, taking the sting out of it.

[Ann Drysdale]

I got cheese. You score extra points for cheese. It's called the Chesterton Gambit, as any fule kno.