COMPETITION

Two rhymes

Jaspistos

IN Competition No, 1487 you were invited to write a sonnet with only two rhymes entitled either 'Shopping' or 'DIY'.

The first and last word on DIY was had by Belloc:

Lord Finehley tried to mend the Electric Light Himself. It struck him dead: and serve him right! It is the business of the wealthy man To give employment to the artisan.

Poems about shopping are equally hard to find. Only the first two lines of Robert Frost's 'The Armful' come to mind:

For every parcel I stoop down to seize I lose some other off my arms and knees.

The number of entries topped the hun- dred mark, and the quality was excep- tionally high, especially among the DIY merchants. The list of honourable men- tions could be as long as a gibbon's arm, but there's only room for George Moor, D. A. Prince, Marguerite Kendrick, George Simmers and Gerry Hamill. The prize-winners printed below take £12 each, and the bonus bottle of champagne (Bol- linger, Grande Ann& 1979), the gift of Mr Brian Williamson, goes to Gerard Benson for a piece of great charm.

That's my last Turner, hanging on the wall, Looking, my friend, I'm sure you will agree, Quite the real thing; the treatment of the sea Lashed into turmoil by a sudden squall, The light, the bending mast, the gulls, are all My own unaided work, save that the key Lies hidden underneath, in numbers. 'Three', (To take a case) signifies puce (that small Tube there), and 'Nineteen' — that's gamboge.

call This piece a marvel, so does Liz; feel free To look a while, then join us, through the hall, For home-made scones. (Next week ! shall install A hatch.) And will you take some China tea, Grown in the garden, under glass, by me?

(Gerard Benson) Death, which at best we can alas postpone, Is catered for by DIY. The kit Comes in a range that guarantees to fit All sizes, with a choice of price and tone. I chose the `Peerless' (number 9 — as shown): `Relations will be proud when they commit Their late departed to the Infinite.' It's also waterproof, 'dry as a bone'. It's virgin wood, but green and rather prone To warp, although they swore it wouldn't split. It's nice to think this coffin is my own, Composed by me, for my sole benefit, Where I shall rest in silence and alone While friends admire my foresight, thrift and wit. (I C. M. Hepple) When Uncle Jim — forced to economise - Set out to build a simple monoplane His wife and sons were hard pressed to disguise The doubts they couldn't help but entertain.

After a year, to everyone's surprise, Jim had the wings on. As he would explain, `The right one's higher, you'll see when she flies; I'll compensate for that with a tight rein.'

Two engines came (the first was the wrong size)

Then all the instruments that appertain To safe manoeuvre in our crowded skies.

And now he's got a helper, she's called Jane.

They've taken off, their destination Spain!

I wonder if we'll ever meet again.

(Mortimer Spreader) When, in the sessions of sweet silent thought, I contemplate the house where I reside, I see, emotional and misty-eyed, The scars of many an ancient battle fought: This garden seat with one leg slightly short; That feeding-table lying on its side; The tragic hutch (alas! the rabbit died); The vine prostrated by its lost support; And near yon trapezoidal children's fort With russet ramparts where my blood has dried, A drunken compost-box, designed to hide The greenhouse I decided to abort.

Mock not these simple marks of manhood's pride; I came, I trembled; but I DIY'd. (Noel Petty) I spent my Sunday cleaning out a drain — A fragrant job. I knelt upon the edge.

I had a clapped-out coat to pad the ledge And save my knees from any extra pain. Stuck three floors up, I poked for hours in vain. Bent coathangers proved little use to dredge Primeval ooze, slate shards and rotten veg. Chopsticks were slightly better, but a strain. Enemies and detractors might allege That I'm too mean to hire some Sid or Reg. (Make tea for men? Thal goes against the grain!) It isn't just the cash. It should be plain To anyone out there with half a brain, The problem is I've signed the feminist pledge.

(Fiona Pitt-Kethley) I never plan my shopping in advance.

I never merely buy things: I explore. Adventure lies in wait in every store, The market spells excitement and romance.

I contemplate, without the slightest chance Of paying for them, costly toys. I pore On cameras, computers, cars, and more, And dream my dreams of wild extravagance.

And so we differ (vive la difference).

The wife whom I have married and adore Looks on these manly fantasies askance.

She thinks of shopping as anotherchore, Runs through the list without a sidelong glance, Thus saving time and cash. But what a bore!

(Peter Wingate)