Lucy Vickery

In Competition No. 3037 you were invited to take a song by Abba or the Beatles and rewrite the lyrics as a sonnet. Oh, for more space. Your entries were especially clever and funny this week, and the winners were chosen only after protracted agonising. Those printed below take £20 each.   O Jude! Fear not, and look not so downcast, But sing a plaintive air, then let her in. The minute Melancholy’s mood hath passed, Then seek her and invite her ’neath thy skin. Each time that sorrow pains thy sense, refrain! Nor, Atlas-like, bear not this mournful orb Upon thy weary shoulders, for in vain Do fools, appearing cool, its heat absorb.

In Competition No. 3036 you were invited to provide a resignation letter in the style of a well-known author. I was inspired to set this challenge by the great William Faulkner, who bowed out with panache from his job as University of Mississippi postmaster: ‘I will be damned if I propose to be at the beck and call of every itinerant scoundrel who has two cents to invest in a postage stamp. This, sir, is my resignation.’ Some entries were resignation letters on the part of the author in whose style they were written; others were written by well-known figures in the style of a given author. Given my somewhat woolly brief, either approach was permissible. There was much wit and cunning invention on display. Commendations go to Richard Corcoran and Michael R. Burch.

In Competition No. 3035 you were invited to provide a poem entitled ‘The Love Song of [insert name of a well-known figure]’. There was no obligation to write in the style of Eliot, but a few brave souls did so. David Shields’s ‘Love Song of Kim Kardashian’ (‘I have measured out my life in selfie sticks…’) made me smile. Max Gutmann’s ‘Love Song of Larry Nassar’(‘In this room the gymnasts come and go/ Saying, “My injury’s not near my — oh!”’) made me wince.   High fives to Ralph Rochester, Nicholas Stone, Mike Morrison and Mike Greenhough. The winners take £25 each. The Love Song of F.

In Competition No. 3034 you were invited to provide a poem written by a poet laureate present or past on the engagement of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle.   There are those who view the role of laureate as a poisoned chalice. Craig Raine has described how he said to Ted Hughes, during a discussion of the then-vacant post, ‘Of course, no one in their right mind would really want it.’ (‘You’d get some terrific fishing,’ Hughes responded.) And Andrew Motion was candid about its pitfalls: ‘How was I to steer an appropriate course between familiarity (which would seem presumptuous) and sycophancy (which would seem absurd)?’   You strode into the minefield with gusto, and there was much to admire in a largish and vigorous entry.

In Competition No. 3033 you were invited to take as your first line ‘I am the very model of a Very Stable Genius’ and continue for up to a further 15.   It seemed about time for a challenge to mark Trump’s first year in office, and what better as a springboard than the Donald’s own words. Long lines mean fewer entries, which is a shame because the standard was terrific. Honourable mentions go to Carolyn Beckingham, John Beaton, Brian Murdoch and Ann Alexander. The winners take £25. I am the very model of a Very Stable Genius. To castigate my temperament is nasty, fake and hee-nius. There’s Lincoln and there’s Washington and other famous presidents Whom I would say I’m smarter than without a moment’s hesitance.

In Competition No. 3032 you were invited to provide a poem about passports.   While the news that British passports issued after October of next year would be navy blue rather than burgundy was heartily cheered in some quarters, others — like Nicola Sturgeon, who denounced it as ‘insular nonsense’ — weren’t so delighted. And others still wondered what all the fuss was about.   The full spectrum of opinion was reflected in a small but punchy entry, and in the winning line-up. Commendations go to David Silverman’s ‘Jerusalem’-inspired verse, and to Frank Upton, Sylvia Fairley and Fiona Pitt-Kethley. The winners net £25. Basil Ransome-Davies takes £30.

In Competition No. 3031 you were invited to provide a review by a restaurant critic that is tediously loaded with sexual language.   I have had this comp up my sleeve since reading a piece by Steven Poole in the Observer in which he laid into the relentless sexualisation of food in our culture: ‘Everyone revels in the “filthiness” of what they are naughtily pleased to call “gastroporn…”’, he writes. And Jamie Oliver ‘describes pretty much everything he is about to cook as “sexy”, as though not quite sure whether he would like to shag it or eat it …’   With the recent return to our screens of the queen of innuendo, Nigella Lawson, now seemed like a good time to set it.

In Competition No. 3030 you were invited to provide a poem entitled ‘January’.   I mentioned William Carlos Williams, R.S. Thomas and Dante Gabriel Rossetti in the brief for this challenge, all of whom wrote poems with ‘January’ as their title. But that most maligned of months also lands a starring role in the opening stanza of George Barker’s charming poem ‘January Jumps About’: ‘January jumps about/ in the frying pan/ trying to heat/ his frozen feet/ like a Canadian…’   Freezing temperatures were very much on your minds, too, and for hot-flush-ridden Jayne Osborn they are a cause for celebration. The winners printed below are rewarded with £25. Chris O’Carroll is overall champ and earns £30.

In Competition No. 3029 you were invited to provide a new year’s resolution (or more than one) in verse.   Woody Guthrie’s 1943 ‘new years rulin’s’ have considerable charm: ‘Dont get lonesome; stay glad; dream good; shine shoes; wash teeth if any…’ But perhaps it was Nietzsche who inspired Basil Ransome-Davies’s entry. In 1882, he resolved to become a yes-man: ‘I do not want to wage war with the ugly. I do not want to accuse, I do not want even to accuse the accusers… I wish to be at any time hereafter only a yea-sayer!’   David Silverman’s spin on Thomas Hood’s ‘No!’ was nice. Alanna Blake, George Simmers and Nicholas Stone also impressed in a strong field.

In Competition No. 3028 you were invited to submit lines for a Christmas card courtesy of well-known poets. Poets moved to write Yule-inspired verse include that old killjoy William Topaz Mc-Gonagall: ‘The way to respect Christmas time/ Is not by drinking whisky or wine’. And, of course, John Betjeman: ‘And girls in slacks remember Dad,/ And oafish louts remember Mum,/ And sleepless children’s hearts are glad./ And Christmas morning bells say “Come!”…’ JB cropped up a fair amount in the entry, but nobody, alas, chose U.A. Fanthorpe, who sent verses to friends as Christmas cards over many years. Thank you all, old-timers and newcomers alike, for your terrific entries over the year.