SPECTATOR COMPETITION No. 183 Report by Eric Swainson "She fell

for a translated weaver." This remarkable line is quoted not from a popular ballad, but from the "down" clues of a crossword puzzle. Competitors were asked to write an eight-lined poem in any mood, each line to provide an adequate crossword clue for one of the following words: nougat, marsupial, arriving, windward, crumbs, destroy, whiting, quality.

"Great fun this! Hardly poetry in a strict sense but, nothing venture...." Thus wrote Jeffrey Jones, expressing the spirit which moved this week's competitors. The response to the challenge was good, and almost every entrant showed resource and ingenuity. Mrs. Mary Garden suggested that a pin had been used to find the eight words. Certainly not, madam! The choice was deliberate. The intention was to avoid imposing a theme, to offer scope for a variety of entries, and to stimulate thought by the diversity of the lights. One aspect of poetic talent is the ability to discern similarity in dissimilar objects! So the first winnowing excluded all those who had failed to give their verse a unity of sense, or of nonsense. Some sent merely eight clues, as unrelated as the original eight words, and linked only by rhyme and rhythm. Others attempted to evade the problem by using the form of a verse conundrum. ' The next to go were those who had failed to make an interesting piece of verse, and those whose clues were weak. They were followed by a large number who had achieved amusing, interesting, or even lofty verse at the expense of succinctness in the clues. The best crossword clues carry no more passengers than do the best lines of poetry. Every word should earn its place. Many astute com- petitors showed their awareness of this by italicising the part of each line' which provided the clue. Following this convention, the best entries would appear entirely in italics. The last group to be dismissed were those admirable students of Ximenes whose clues were rich in meaning, double meaning, hidden word and anagram; whose wit, moreover, was of the highest order; but whose verse was not equal to the burden placed upon it. I was sorry to part with these conscientious and erudite performers. A word of gratitude, then, to E. W. Tulloch, D. L. L. Clarke and Joyce Johnson. I suggest a first prize of £2 for Robert Somerville, who achieves truly amiable .nonsense and an easy rhythm without sacrificing precision or economy in his clues; and £1 each to A. R. Goode rson (despite his sixth line), J. P. Mullarky and P. ,J. Ryle. Commended are James Bowker, H. A. C. Evans, Major Lawrence Fowler, Mrs. Mary Lane and Stanley Jamieson.

Finally, my apologies to any competitors whose clues or poetry were beyond my comprehension.

PRIZES (ROBERT SOMERVILLE)

The creature from the Puma's lair Left little on the table;

A Porpoise on his tail was there To ruin and disable.

The tasty Tuna go astray, As Rooster looks from steeple, And reaching here—or there—today, Seek vulgar high-born people!

(A. R. boormsoi9 Verdun.

Ruin of some French Helen's home, Quintessence of Sir James's Street! A spirit in the fragments stands Its make-up gaunt and nothing sweet. A breeze in Chancery perhaps

A tearing end is coming to.

Confused with gin and turning pale, Paul Maris holds a kangaroo.

(J. P. MULLAIMILY) Where Saintly islands the Atlantic meet The worthwhile thing to buy if one is-able, Is nutty, fruity, sticky, Gallic sweet,

'By-product of a prosperous man's tat*. The end of these instructions is in sight,

In cooking, the extremities should meet. Some Southern bounders bag what they produce;

Consume it all; leave naught; all trace delete.

(P. .1. RYLE)

This street described by J. M. B.,

These islands found, so far from Lee, Your state of journeying complete, Go, Aunt!—to re-arrange the sweet, Demolish, shatter, smash or break Some little bits of bread or cake With gin, into a fish to stir, Whose young are pouched in skin and fur.

COMMENDED

(JAMES BOWKER)

Girt in immodest royal blue slacks and sable, Spurned with contumely at the rich man 's table, My sweetie came across the sea from France, Bearing before the fruits of dalliance. Virgin and artist seem to have met disaster! 1 said, "Take my advice. Keep moving—faster! Goodness of nature, being of manner kind, , Here in these isles a drawback you may find."

(H. A. C. EVANS) Pouchy, as a rum lip is, (Obviously a natural trait) All to pieces, alt to bits, Rosy Ted, in disarray, Coining now to Journey's end—

Islands in the Carib Sea,

Sweet with sugar, stiff with nuts—

Urged increased celerity.

(MAJOR LAWRENCE FOWLER) The Hungry Voyager Coming like stars not yet in sight In Pan's creator's famous street With nought he rides again tonight, With nought, but ah the change is sweet!. A puma's lair conceals the beast; The isles are punished by the breeze: But here for poor men at the feast Is food, fresh garnered from the seas. (Marsupial) (Crumbs) (Whiting) (Destroy) (Nougat) (Windward) (Arriving) (Quality) (Destroy) (Quality) (Crumbs) (Nougat) (Windward) (Arriving) (Whiting) (Marsupial) (Windward) (Quality) (Nougat) (Crumbs) (Arriving) (Whiting) (Marsupial) (Destroy) (Quality) (Windward) (Arriving) (Nougat) (Destroy) (Crumbs) (Whiting) (Marsupial) (Destroy) (Crumbs) (Nougat) (Marsupial) (Arriving) (Whiting) (Quality) (Windward) (Marsupial) (Quality) (Crumbs) (Destroy) (Arriving) (Windward) (Nougat) (Whiting) (Arriving) (Quality) (Destroy) (Nougat) (Marsupial) (Windward) (Crumbs) (Whiting)