No 637: The winners

Charles Seaton reports: Competi- tors were asked to try their skill at composing a sonnet consisting of fourteen monosyllables. No Specific sonnet form (Petrarchan, Shakespearian or Miltonic) was asked for and since the example quoted (Tort Belle, Elle Dort; Sort Quelle Mort! Rose Close, La 13rise L'a Prise,' by the nine- teenth-century French poet Jules rde Resseguier) was itself irregular in form a variety of patterns of sonnet were accepted.

Not content with an already difficult task, I.ance A. Haward contrived to compose an acrostic 41 onosyllabic sonnet whose initial letters read Tetrarch so n- o e t'. 'Exhaustion' (presumably an exPression of his condition after.

writing them) is the title of the last of a series of sonnets he sub- mitted.

'My / vain / brain / nigh l slain/ Grave at

curse/yet!' Here 'Must

His virtuosity deserves to be re- True Move

warded with two guineas. Peer Lust?

Several competitors resolutely Who Prove attempted translations of the ex- K new You've

ample given. From among these Fear. Trust!' hold souls F. I. Pocket wins two (Men

guineas. His sonnet is printed Go, Say below. Say: This Robin Gilbert, in his sestet, So When declared: 'When 'men/choose/ Best They prize, / nnise/dies.' But it isn't They Kiss.)

always so, and in spite of the Rest. cramping form many sonnets were much more than mere tours de force. A sonnet, any sonnet—and de True, among the I ,000-odd lines of monosyllabic verse I read there ' was enough telegraphese to make me' think Mr Jingle was back in business or the headline writers had gone mad. but there were also a number of deftly-made little pieces which triumphed. in greater or lesser degree, over the limit- ations set. Peter Peterson's sestet and his choice of a serious—and therefore more difficult—theme win him two guineas. P.M. will remem- ber a similar competition some years ago and this time wins two

The Common Few, Love

Near, Just

guineas for a tart little homily, the best of his four entries: (P.M.) (Peter Peterson)

1 Translation will FHaoi‘rv! still eye Where cthhyill . Now

still Keeps thigh, Sleep's lewd Breath.

n%tattc 1 Wan ‘h)

through Blows; fights se;

nights. She's

Gone.

(Donald

Royfield) (F. I, Pocket) •

She died. Sighed he, 'Sea

tide, hide me.' Found drowned— wife

gone, life done.

(H. A. C. Evans) (Colin Mann) 'You slept!' wept Sue; then kissed, hissed 'Men!'

'My bed,' said Guy, `so go!'

(Brian

Note: Competition No 638 will be reported on next week. Owing to the postal .strike the entry date for Competition No 639 will beexten- tied to the Friday after the res- umption of letter post. It will be reported on in the following week's issue.

Her vote, fur coat. Lynx dead; minx shed slow tear? No fear! Why cry?

These rum plum trees please hum- drum bees. They sup gay cup way up!

(Jo ire Johnson)