[Martin Elster]

The Sun Should Be Run In

Quaking before the copper, she explains:
“The sun, so low and bright this time of day,
outshone the stoplight, made me look away.”
That bloated bloom glints off the glass-strewn stains
that decorate the intersection. Pains
unloose a yowling from some boy. She may
not drive again, end up in jail, replay
this broken scene night after night. It rains
five days a week, but sometimes heaven leaves
a gap in the cumuli, through which the sun’s
sharp talons terrorize our eyes. Now sheaves
contain her record. Life’s changed in a breath.
“Aren’t roundabouts much safer? No one runs
a roundabout,” she says and says to death.

[Mary McLean]

Thanks guys! I'm sure it won't be The Oldie's cup of tea, but I might try elsewhere afterwards.

Peter, reserve me a seat for opening night!

[Jayne Osborn]

Martin,

Sorry, I've only just seen your question. There's no hard and fast rule, except they prefer the poem in the body of an email and not as an attachment (for anyone else who may be wondering about that too).

My natural inclination (purely based on how I'd prefer it, if I were the judge) is to suggest that each attempt goes into a separate email. That way, Lucy can easily 'earmark' the ones she shortlists (and maybe print them out), whereas if the email contains, say, five or six poems for the same contest it would be a bit more hassle to locate a particular one.

But that's only my take on it. Don't fret if you have sent multiple entries in one go, folks; I'm sure they'll all be read and given due consideration, whichever way they're submitted!

Jayne

PS. Martin, it might just be me but I can't quite make sense of this:
That bloated bloom glints off the glass and stains that decorate the intersection.
The blooms glints off both the glass and the stains? Am I reading it wrongly?

[Jerome Betts]

Ingenious approach, Mary. The 'wouldn't-may' combination sounds a bit rhyme-driven? How about 'It wouldn't be surprising if, this May,/he's crushed . . . ?

Then adjust 'Autumn suns', if necessary, to July or August suns?

Only one doctor runs him off to Italy, so they'll?

Maybe 'That'll . . .' ?

Good luck!

[Mary McLean]

Thanks, Jerome! I like your monthly murder plan. Summer rains and Autumn suns were quotes from the Keats sonnet, so I'd prefer to keep them, but your suggestion for May would work. My syntax was admittedly dodgy.

I'm afraid "They'll" referred to Italians....how about something like this?
...until his doctor runs
him off to Rome. That ought to spell his death.

[Martin Elster]

Jayne - thanks for your advice about how to submit via email.

Martin, it might just be me but I can't quite make sense of this:
That bloated bloom glints off the glass and stains / that decorate the intersection.
The blooms glints off both the glass and the stains? Am I reading it wrongly?

Yes, the bloated bloom (which is the sun) glints off both the glass and the stains.
But to make it clearer, I changed it to:

That bloated bloom glints off the glass-strewn stains
that decorate the intersection. Pains

I have fiddled some more with the whole poem, especially the last 2 lines. Any thoughts?

[Jerome Betts]

Yes, Mary, think we associate Keats with Rome rather than the country it's in. After this, you could even things up by writing a paean to Italy for the latest Spectator competition.

[Martin Elster]

Originally Posted by Mary McLean

I'm afraid "They'll" referred to Italians....how about something like this?
...until his doctor runs
him off to Rome. That ought to spell his death.

That's a good solution, Mary. "They'll" confused me.

[Susan d.S.]

Ann, Mary, kudos! This contest is like a Rorschach test. Fill in the blanks. Or the opposite of a Mad-libs. There is sure to be a winner here.

[Roger Slater]

The first line of this sonnet ends with "plains."
As you can see, the second ends with "day."
Although I wish that I could rhyme away
According to my whimsy, I say "stains,"
And then I end line five (this one) with "pains."
It's March, but I prefer to speak of May.
The rhymes of Keats are now a game we play,
And so, let's all pretend the clear sky rains
And that the bare trees brim with rustling leaves,
That up above we're glimpsing seven suns,
That anyone still uses words like "sheaves."
Okay? Now let me stop to catch my breath.
There's no way I can end this line with "runs."
I know. I know. I beat that joke to death.