Comp. 3443 was inspired by Brian Bilston’s ‘Remembrance of Things Pasta’ which begins:
She blew her fusilli,
my pretty penne,
when she found me watching
daytime tagliatelle.
You were invited to submit a poem containing repeated wordplay on a particular theme. There were cheeses, drinks, cakes, the shipping forecast, cars, technology… it was hard to choose. I must mention David Shields’s foot-ball teams and Sue Pickard’s fruity romance: ‘I knew that, kumquat may, I couldn’t let this mango.’ The winners are below.
I’m a draw at the dance, a dab hand at romance,
To the dames, I’m a ray of delight.
I’m the true Cisco Kid, never short a few squid.
I’m not koi, and my trousers are tight.I’m a dapper go-getter, and no one looks betta.
My mullet’s a true work of art.
It’s rare for a date to tell me to skate.
I’m a man of deep sole and great heart.So I started to flounder when she called me a bounder
And then turned on her ’eel at the church.
I’m not one to carp, but her barbs were quite sharp,
And I knew I’d been knocked from my perch.Matt Quinn
He said I Wozzeck Godunov,
That Porgy, he knew Bess:
I sang a banging Bazukov,
My acting he liked lessManon man I had a go:
‘You’re Nessun with my Dorma,
I’ll have you know my Flavio
Took Tunbridge Wells by Norma!’‘I William Tell it as it is’
This Tosca, he replies:
‘You Don Carlos the inner t’s
Or Turandot the i’s’Well I won’t care a Figaro or
Admeto my crimes:
I find it such a Ruddigore,
This moving with the Grimes.Nick Syrett
You said you’d see me latte, babe,
And frappe your arms around me,
Where did you affogato, dear?
Chai feel the loss profoundly,
I’m bitterly infused by you,
Don’t mocha my black mood,
You said that I was extra hot,
Oh Pod, but I have brewed,
You’ve had your filter of my charms,
Won’t call me on the foam,
You’ve bean and gone, I’m in withdrawal,
I’ve grounds to sulk at home,
You’re shot of me, I feel a mug,
A tossed-out takeaway,
Too percolate to call you now,
I was your easy lait.Janine Beacham
The weather that day was Claudius,
Which got on my Nerva,
But time was getting Titus,
So Otho I went, Aurelian hour late,Being Probus, I didn’t take the Carus,
Or even Caracalla and Geta taxi,
Marcian quickly, I caught a Traianus,
Justinian nick of time,But I didn’t get the job – so Nero
And yet so far; I struggled to Phocas,
So the answer was Zeno,
The Irene was not lost on me.Robert Beauchamp
I’m Pushkin’ the boat out
And upping the Dante –
I’m not one for Larkin’ around.
Iamb what Iamb
For a sheep as a Lamb
I’m in for a penny, a Pound.
To Poe-faced stop-Homers
And Wilde big Spenders,
Well I just say Bellocs! And Bysshe!
What are Words worth? I croon,
Where’d they Goethe, Sassoon? –
Am I Donne with the puns yet? You wish!
I’m averse to larks, satanic mills
And narcissistic daffodils
They’d all be Bard, if up to me.
I’d clip the wings of poesy.David Silverman
He hadn’t allegro to stand on
after a pint or three of largo
and some gin and pentatonic,
it was quite a chromatic farago:
he was seeing little green men
saying ‘Take me to your lieder!’
Couldn’t stay sharp ’til the end of the glass,
signed the a tempo pledge, a conceder.
‘I’ll counterpoint to the poets,
it’s where all wisdom is rit.’
He read Shelley, Keats, andante,
the Divine Comodo’s wit.
The coda of sobriety,
his mezzo-forte was that
no spiritoso would pass his lips
nor beer, for he’d turn it down flat.Sylvia Fairley
My wayward Aunt Cedilla,
Married an umlaut:
Defying her diacritics,
She took the asterisk.
‘I love his full ellipses,
His energy and dash;
He’s sexily italic,
Not boring solidus.
I’m never one to pilcrow
But I’ve been quite acute –
He’s my apostrophe
And I haven’t made a hash.’
But, oh, what did this speech mark
But things at their full stop:
First choked with circumflex,
She was hurled down off a glyph.W.J. Webster
No. 3446: Critics amass
You are invited to write a critic’s review of a restaurant, hotel, café, bar etc from fiction (please specify). 150 words maximum. Please email entries to competition@spectator.co.uk by 15 April.
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