You were asked to supply envois, as in the last four lines of a ballade, addressed to the traditional Prince or anyone else that took your fancy. By asking for envois on their own, not as the quasi-epigrammatic climax to an intricately-rhymed three octets, LUPO was venturing into uncharted territory, with interesting if mixed results. As well as being hung on visible verbal pegs, there were entries that relied on shared topical knowledge, such as the one by Jo Scutch that concluded with an enquiry as to whether the Prince addressed had enjoyed a Canadian winter. Speaking of that season, Stephen Kingsnorth resorted to The Winter’s Tale and the unfortunate bear-beset Antigonus. as well as Machiavelli’s Principe and Pythagoras as recipients of four lines, which helped to raise the brow level a bit.
Below, as usual in no particular order, are the unbowed survivors of the adjudicatory sieving, with the usual thanks to all those who sent in entries.
Bruce McGuffin:
Prince, this poem is really a shot in the dark.
Will somebody read it? And what if they do?
Will it fade away quickly? Or light a small spark?
Hello? Are you out there? I'm talking to you!
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D.A. Prince
Doc, tell me straight: is this the promised end?
I've waited seven weeks for this appointment
and said farewell to every foe and friend.
It's what? You're sure? And treatable by ointment?
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Ken Chester: Line Of Wisdom
'Level Crossing (Uneven Rails)'
- Sign in Somerset
When they, at long last, Prince, award your rise,
A sum your tax code promptly then curtails,
You know Life is, words heeded by the wise,
A level crossing with uneven rails.
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Richard Fleming:
Dear Prince, your Purple Reign has ceased.
It happens to all Rock Gods in the end.
Let’s hope the record’s re-released.
I lost my copy: lent it to a friend.
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Douglass Allen: Serial Repeater
"No . . . pornographic, vulgar, rhymed . . . work. "
Verse contest rules.
Judge, we have a serial repeater
Reported now for one more crime.
He's been accused of committing meter,
And now confesses to staging rhyme.
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Bruce McGuffin:
The spreadsheets, Boss, you asked for are unfinished.
I find them as a format somewhat terse.
I hope my prospects here are not diminished
Because instead of spreadsheets I wrote verse.
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John Cooper: For the Landlord
Greetings to the landlord
Taker of our rent,
I know it’s all we can afford
But surely this is a tent.
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Elizabeth Horrocks
Prince, you have wealth and power, true.
If also mental muscle, flex it
In action clearly overdue –
Engage reverse, and cancel Brexit.
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D.A. Prince
Your Honour, may I say in my defence
my life's been one long struggle and the drink
is vital – is, note; present, not past tense.
Please think of it as simply poet's ink.
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L. A. Mereoie: Shortness Is All
Ballades, Prince? What an awful chore!
So many rhymes! They’re far too tough!
Let’s drop lines one to twenty-four,
The envoi’s usually enough.
