[John Whitworth]

Nobody won anything in The Oldie's Alphabetical sonnets, but here's a nice competition with plenty of time to do something good.

Oldie Competition No 114

Ballads like 'John Gilpin' and 'The Ancient Mariner' come in slces of fourteen syllables, and sonnets have fourteen lines. Fortnights have fourteen days, so a balld or a sonnet, please, called 'A Fortnight'.

Entries to Competition No 114 by 31st July 2009. Post to The Oldie 65 Newman Street London W1T 3EG or email comps@theoldie.co.uk

[Holly Martins]

Two weeks in Monte Carlo, lost my shirt,
the car, the house and everything I owned
because I tried to make a piece of skirt.
You’ll think that I was mad, or drunk, or stoned,
most out of character I hear you say,
why would he throw the lot up for a ho?
I’d gone to the casino not to play
but watch the toffs and suckers lose their dough,
next thing, this girl whose dress I stared straight through
began to chat me up and I felt flattered,
thought a few spins of the wheel would do
no harm and after two weeks I was shattered.
I can’t believe things got so out of hand
but as my wife I’m sure you’ll understand.

[John Whitworth]

Like that one, Holly. Give it a whirl. Here's mine. It lacks your brio, I feel, going for soft focus flashback stuff to slow Mozart (clarinet maybe), like that terrible film we all liked so much. Though I think that was piano.

A Fortnight

When I was young, a thousand years ago,
A little princess ruled the tennis courts
So dreamily you’d think she didn’t know
Exactly how she looked in socks and shorts,
Crouched at the net or climbing for the smash.
I offered her the rage of Caliban,
Against the blue, her pure Cerulean.
I offered her my love, my life, my cash,
My promises, my poetry, my praise,
My youth, my truth, my comfort and my keys.
She took them all for ever, hugged her knees
And grinned. We were an item, in a phrase,
And broke up with the weather, as the trees
Scattered their leaves. It lasted fourteen days.