COMPETITION

Bouts times

Jaspistos

IN COMPETITION NO. 2096 you were asked for a poem and given a rhyme- scheme. When I left for my holiday I knew perfectly well which poem I had taken this rhyme-scheme from; on return I haven't the faintest idea — a tribute to the Lethean powers of the Tyrrhenian Sea. Anyway, it produced a good comp, from which Frank McDonald, Chris Tingley, D.A. Prince and Paul Griffin are unlucky to emerge unrewarded. The prizewinners, printed below, get £25 each, and the bottle of The Macallan Single Malt Highland Scotch whisky is Godfrey Bullard's.

Slim, well-dressed, 50-something gentleman: Commuting by the Metropolitan: Good party-goer (references from hosts Supplied): not psychic, but believes in ghosts: Single, but should a glance coquettishly Send fruitful vibes the situation's free: Quietly introvert, yet not aloof: Mortgage applied for (something in the roof And windows needs repair): can be reserved With strangers: soldiered briefly: steely-nerved: Finances sound, though (see above) there's still That work outstanding — 'lashings, rotten sill; No problem. Hopeful applicants would find In me stability and fun combined.

Are you prepared to share, with Persian cat, My rather small top-storey Uxbridge flat?

(Godfrey Bullard) 'Lot six, the cellar of a gentleman,' The catalogue of Metropolitan Wine Merchants says. The auctioneers are hosts To years of laying down to vinous ghosts. I read the tasting notes: 'Coquettishly Inviting Sauvignon; champagne that's free Of superficial show, but not aloof.' The bidding, surely, will go through the roof: Three thousand guineas is the price reserved. I make the winning bid ... And now I'm nerved

To taste the nectar of the heavenly still. With quaking legs I lean against the sill. What oenophiliac wonders will I find, Treasures of climate, soil and grape combined? The Sauvignon tastes just like pee of cat, And as for the champagne it's all gone flat.

(Nicholas Hodgson) Said Polly, 'He's a perfect gentleman, Sophisticated, metropolitan.

Besides, you know, my dear, we are the hosts.' I said, 'I never did care much for ghosts. I think he treats you too coquettishly. It's not right for a ghost to make so free.' Said she, 'It's you who's wrong to act aloof, Seeing we all live under the same roof. I've always told you you were too reserved.' 'It's hard,' I said, `to walk home having nerved Yourself to meet that revenant leaning still Proprietorially on your window sill.

Not everyone likes coming in to find This and the next world cosily combined.' I took my poems, my fiddle and my cat And moved my quarters to the granny flat.

(Hugh Munro) I like that picture of a gentleman (It's somewhere in the Metropolitan Museum): in a dingy flat, he hosts A gathering of men who look like ghosts, And soon will be. A cat, coquettishly, Rubs up against him. She, at least, seems free. He lifts his glass, smiles, but remains aloof, Aware the lives of those under his roof Are forfeit — there's a simple fate reserved For men whom common decency has nerved To face down tyranny. He stands quite still, Back to the window, one hand on the sill. By some strange alchemy of paint, we find Hope and despair in one man's face combined. In an hour they are all dead — even the cat. It costs a few pence, now, to see the flat.

(Michael Swan) I pencil in 'esquire' for gentleman; 'Archbishop', next, for Metropolitan. I see at once that 'hordes' is right for hosts And 'spirits' seems appropriate for ghosts. 'Flirtatiously' decodes coquettishly And 'unencumbered' looks correct for free. 'Distant' gives seven letters for aloof. 'Cover' can serve as verb or noun for roof. I choose 'withheld' to signify reserved. It's pretty clear that 'steeled' will do for nerved And 'motionless' (not 'stationary') for still. I use the compound `windowshelf for sill. 'Discover' is the obvious word for find; I quickly print 'united' for combined; And now, as I put las' down for cat, The crossword's finished in five minutes flat.

(Ray Kelley) John Betjeman, true gentleman, Adored the Metropolitan.

I fancy that their heavenly hosts Find transport for poetic ghosts: That E B B coquettishly Glides in a gondola for free; Siegfried Sassoon sits all aloof On horseback; Stevie rides the roof; Sir John's seat surely is reserved To Metroland. And, when he's nerved Himself, the Irish Airman still Skims through the clouds, God's windowsill.

John Masefield's under sail. You'll find The Night Mail sensibly combined With transport for the Railway Cat.

And Ginsberg's tyres are no doubt flat.

(G. Mcilraith)