COMPETITION

Bouts Times

Jaspistos

In Competition No. 1433 you were asked to write a poem to a given rhyme-scheme.

The words themselves, and the order they come in, I borrowed from a stanza of Vikram Seth's recently published long poem The Golden Gate, which itself bor- rows the rhyming tetrameters used by the late Sir Charles Johnston in his brilliant translation of Pushkin's Eugene Onegin. (I warmly recommend Seth's work to anyone with a relish for the neglected Byronic virtues of technical bravura, intelligibility, humour, humanity and narrative grip.) Although there were nearly a hundred competitors, the variety in scenario was rather meagre, 'tiff', I suspect, being re- sponsible since it almost inevitably suggests a lovers' rather than any other sort of quarrel. Also 'cat' was used by only one person to mean 'lash', by only one to mean 'vomit', and by nobody, despite the temp- ting proximity of 'drenching', as an abbre- viation of 'catamaran'. No matter, it was a glittering entry on the whole, with particu- larly lively contributions from irregulars such as David Dunn, Cadence Braking and Gwen Foyle. Ginger Jelinek amused me, but bemused me too. The winners printed below earn £8 each, and the bonus bottle of Scotch whisky, the generous gift of Mr

David Potton, governor of the Duke of York, Roger St, London WC1, is on its way to Alice Renton.

No one ever complains of the going As long as the going is good; But when cracks in the fabric are showing People hesitate less than they should Before saying the government's lazy, Or evil, or else simply crazy, Or presenting a Cabinet tiff As perpetual warfare. Yet if, For a change, we should try an unclenching Of fists, and with tolerance say, 'Well, they're doing their best anyway,' Then the Dries might submit to a drenching And the Wets might get dryer. How's that For a new way of skinning the cat? (Alice Renton) When you stood up and threatened you were going Not for a day hut probably for good, You may have noticed I refrained from showing The dire dismay you doubtless thought I should. I could have hit you when you called him lazy, And said the way he squinted drove you crazy, Then tried to brush it off as just a tiff.

Yet all the same! might have weakened if You hadn't stayed there clenching and unclenching Your fist as if you'd something worse to say. But just as well I didn't anyway, Since when you threw your gin and tonic, drenching Him, that for me was definitely that.

You might have guessed it's love me, love my cat.

(Joan Vickers) A nasty nightmare gets the novel going, At which point we meet Nelly Dean, who's good.

In no time she's retailing tales, each showing That love does not proceed the way it should. There's Cathy, sparky, arrogant and lazy, And Heathcliff, dark, and definitely crazy. They never really have a lovers' tiff — It's obvious they would have married if They'd joined the hands they spent their time unclenching, And said the words one really ought to say. But, no. And does it matter, anyway? wuthering, the rain forever drenching His fire when she dies. And that is that.

(There isn't, incidentally, a cat.) (Berni Wellgell) Phone call. Do I feel like going To a movie? Could be good. Got rave reviews, the film they're showing. Flatmate thinks it really should.

Confess to feeling rather lazy. Point out flatmate's taste is crazy. Bring up Monday. Frightful tiff. Suggest it might be better if. .

Hear teeth clenching and unclenching, Masticating words to say. Eat my own, but anyway Receive a sound saliva-drenching.

End of phone call. That is that. Feeling fed up. Kick the cat. (David Cram) After three years we found our marriage going Towards the rocks. It never had been good, But suddenly the defects started showing For all to see, and though we knew we should Take steps to save it, either we were lazy Or else some self-destructive impulse — crazy As it may seem — craved for the timely tiff That would provide the trigger. Sometimes if I saw my wife clenching and unclenching Her pretty jaw I felt convinced she'd say, `I'm off!' She didn't, but left anyway One wet spring night and got a well-earned drenching.

She took the clothes-horse (I've no use for that) And I — well, I was lumbered with the cat.

(Jermyn Thynne)

At last the longed-for 'Well, we must be going' Is faintly heard. Yes, while the going's good. I hope my keen agreement isn't showing. Without conviction, 'I suppose we should,' The other says. The march of time is lazy. It's barely half-past ten. I'm going crazy. Perhaps we could pretend to start a tiff And frighten them away. If only, if We could! The happy thought, my hands

unclenching, Reminds me that I've nothing left to say Except — thank God they're your friends, anyway — `I think you're just in time to miss a drenching.' Alas, too many perils lurk in that.

Wind the alarm clock, yawn, put out the cat.

(M. R. Macintyre) I strove to make my mark,! kept on going, I kept on though the going wasn't good.

My shoulder to the wheel, I struggled, showing True grit, as all good true Brits surely should.

The leader said that layabouts are lazy.

I wasn't that. I carried on like crazy, And never threw a fit or picked a tiff, My inspiration being Kipling's 'If'.

And if I found my stout resolve unclenching I'd stiffen up my spine and sternly say, `Misfortunes matter little, anyway.

They're only like a summer shower's drenching.'

Then, having bravely coped with this and that, I went home and got laughed at by the cat.

(Basil Ransome-Davies)