Competition 3469 invited you to submit seriously misguided love poems. This proved a popular challenge but the standard was patchy. The £25 vouchers go to those below.
Your personal sparkle
more Merkel than Markle,
more Dobbin than Arkle,
more glum Pagliacci
than fun mariachi,
more prickly than roses,
more commandments than Moses,
more Plain Jane Sans Merci
than bedtime with Circe.
And as fun as a rum-free lukewarm hot rum toddy
or a night in a whore-house with Big Ears and Noddy.
But divorce would be costly and hard to arrange
And we’ve done 30 years and I’m wary of change
And inertia’s a glue that is hard to undo;
So stay stuck to me and I’ll stick fast to you.
Martin Parker
How do I love you? When you got in touch
my screen glowed, as rekindled with desire.
You’d sought me out; I’d never gone out much
(shy country mouse!) but you knew how to fire
all that I yearned for. So your emails came,
faster and faster, sharing your rich life
through photos (that Ferrari!), and your name
opening so many doors. Your tremulous Wife?
sent my heart racing, so that when you asked –
A temporary loan? Of course, my sweet.
A token that our love affair will last.
And you’ll return it, when at last we meet.
Send me the date, and soon, and we’ll agree
how well you understand the inner me.
D.A. Prince
Hiding in the bushes,
I caught a glimpse of you,
and knew at once your tush is
the tush I wish to woo,
so shapely and so curvy,
and in-the-right-spots plump.
My heart went topsy-turvy,
ensorcelled by your rump.
I heard the songbirds singing
a soft, erotic sound,
and somewhere bells were ringing.
But then you turned around.
The songbirds all went mute,
but love, what can I say?
You’re not perfect, but you’re cute,
so I’ll stalk you anyway.
Robert Schechter
I know you’re playing hard to get,
I’ve therefore built a shrine
reminding me that I am yours,
reminding me you’re mine.
Your washing line provided me
with skimpy underwear,
and from your favourite salon, I
procured locks of your hair.
They’re on the altar, neath your served
and framed restraining orders;
a tribute to our love that has
impressed the prison warders.
And when I am released, my love,
your bins will warrant trips
to sift through scraps and morsels that
have brushed against your lips.
Paul Freeman
Live with me and be my larva,
Gleaming cockroach of my heart,
I will be your grease-trap charmer,
Fated, baited from the start,
Like a stinky bin you draw me,
Warm as pipes or toaster wires,
Swarm close, creepy-crawly cutie,
Love me like humidifiers,
Scavenge for my love, you vermin,
I’m your soap scum, take your fill,
Fingers brush like twitching feelers,
Being apart is Rentokil,
Scurry, scuttle, leggy lurker,
Stay as near as flatworm fluking,
If your head fully was severed,
Our love would outlast a nuking.
Janine Beacham
You’re not physically repulsive, not to me,
Though you channel chimpanzees when slurping tea,
Your hands are often clammy,
And your wardrobe’s too Miami –
No man alive would wish to see your knees;
And your drab attempts at whoredom
Prompt a melancholy boredom,
As I shut my eyes and wonder what to squeeze
But your Queen Anne house, with carriage sweep’s a pleasure,
Your daughters are enchanting beyond measure,
Your Zoffanys and Turners
Might be useful little earners,
I’ll inspect your ample cellars at my leisure.
And my storm-tossed barque is broaching
And the loan sharks are approaching,
So – be Grimsby to my whaler, there’s a treasure.
Nick Syrett
I’ll love you till the car parks are no longer full of cars,
Till all the seas are dry and jam no longer comes in jars,
Till all the works of Edward Elgar end up in the bin,
Till every tin of biscuits simply has no biscuits in,
Till we have no more bananas and we have no sailing ships,
Till all the fish and chip shops sell you neither fish nor chips,
Till the fox won’t chase the rabbit and the cat won’t chase the mouse,
I would go on but then again I see you’ve left the house.
John Dredge
No. 3472: Bring up the bodies
You are invited to submit a sonnet inspired by a well-known contemporary figure’s characteristic feature. Email entries to competition@spectator.co.uk by midday on 14 October.
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