In Competition 56 you were asked to consider Philip Larkin's comment that Stevie Smith’s long pieces were “like William Blake rewritten by Ogden Nash” and try some other combinations and couplings. Four of the winners followed the formula of the heavier performer rewriting the lighter, three reversed the order and one entry used names of similar weight.
John Wood’s second entry had W.S. Gilbert rewriting The Lobster Quadrille in Alice In Wonderland via Mabel Stanley's Song in The Pirates Of Penzance – You really have no notion how distressing it will be/When they tie us up and carry us, defenceless, out to sea. Three other entrants also used verse by Lewis Carroll as a base. Susanna Clayson’s near the knuckle effort, a burlesque of Blake’s Tiger commenting on keen cyclists’ attire, was spirited if off-rubric, Lycra! Lycra! Churning sight/Should be banned in broad daylight, while Alan Millichip’s also off-rubric tribute to John Masefield concluded self-deprecatingly My thoughts are sound, My words are flat,/If only I could write like that.
With the usual thanks to all who took part, below in no particular order are the results of the
judge’s quarterly ponderings.
John Wood: Daffodils
(W.H. A rewrites W.W.)
O what is this sight which so thrills the eye
Down by the lakeside, prancing, prancing?
Only some flowers, my apple pie,
Some flowers dancing.
O why does the poet like a cloud appear
Wandering lonely, floating, floating?
Just a poetic device, my dear,
With a sugar coating.
O how would you make the poem less sweet?
With salmon singing and rivers leaping;
With flowers as fields of harvest wheat
And a reaper reaping.
O what do you so object to here?
Is it the style that's outdated, outdated?
I suppose it's of its time, my dear,
But overrated.
◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘
Mike Mesterton-Gibbons: The Song Of Owl And Pussy
(H. W. L. rewrites E. L.)
Came an owl upon a pussy,
Played guitar to serenade her,
Sang, "Sweet honey, don't be wussy,
Sail with me!" His money swayed her.
Owl gazed starward, sounding twangy.
Pussy steered his pea-green dinghy.
"You're a beauty, Pussy," sang he,
"You are such a lovely thingy!"
"Owl," the pussy mewed, "you thrill me
With your voice, it makes me woozy,
Let's get married, Mom would kill me
If she thought I was your floozy!"
"It's too bad," said Owl, "we're ringless,
I can wait though, it's no biggie!"
So they sailed, the winged and wingless,
Till they found a nose-ringed piggy.
Said the piggy, "I am willing
To help fur and feathers marry:
For my ring I'll take a shilling."
Owl and Pussy did not tarry.
By a turkey, they were wedded
On a hillside, one day later,
Then to moonlit beaches headed ...
Now they are a Ma and Pater.
◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘
Julia Griffin: East Cokey
(T.S.E. rechoreographs Anon.)
There is a time to put your left arm in.
There is a time to put your left arm out.
There is a time to shake the tattered bone,
Two and two, necessarye coniunction.
But do not come too close, do not come too close,
Keeping time, keeping the rhythm in your daunsing,
There is a time to put your right arm in.
O Cokey, Cokey, Cokey.
There is a time to put your left leg in,
Feet rising and falling,
Lifting ready feet in shining shoes.
There is a time to put your right leg in.
In my end is my beginning.
Rah-rah-rah.
◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘
Steven Kent: The Tulgey Wood
(E. D. rewrites L. C.)
‘Twas brillig – yet not time enough
For slithy toves – and yet and yet
Both gyre, and gimble more than rough –
Within the wabe were falsely met.
And if fair borogrove were all
That mimsy – she of ghostly hue –
Beheld within the sacred hall,
Then rath the momes outgrabe – and do.
The manxome foe with vorpal blade
Was felled – down came it – proudest man,
Of Jabberwock, he, not afraid –
Who heard of – never was again.
◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘
Katie Mallett: The Road Not Taken
(W.S. G. rewrites R. F.)
I went for a walk and the road took a fork,
In the woods that were yellow and hollow,
I looked at them both and studied the growth
To find out the best one to follow.
One looked like the grass had less people pass
Though still they were equal in wear,
Which one should I take, would I make a mistake,
Would I ever come back from there?
In both on the ground fallen leaves could be found
And walking upon them would move them,
Leaving black holes in the shape of my soles,
Nothing would after improve them.
But I set on my way, knowing one day
I’d be telling this tale of a preference.
How I took a strange road, and from that episode
I ended up here, with a difference.
◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘
Judy Koren: What Came Down The Walk
( L. C. rewrites E. D)
She thought she saw a little bird
a-hopping down the Walk,
she looked again and saw it was
a silver knife and fork.
“How pleasant it would be,” said she
“if only they could talk!
They said “We’ve come to feast on worms,
we’re angling for a plate
where wormlets raw – a dozen or more
may meet their meaty fate.
We cannot stay, must not delay”
said they, “we can’t be late!”
But she was thinking of a Wall
and glancing rapid eyes,
of beads, and lawns where dew-drops form
and beetles in disguise,
so that the chatter of a fork
occasioned no surprise.
“No worms have I” was her reply
and offered them a crumb
of butterflies with silver eyes
and fish to row them home;
but they unrolled some plumes of gold
and flew out of her poem.
◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘
Michael Swan: To Be Or Not To Be
(W. C. rewrites W. S.)
To be or not to be, that is the question.
I'm having trouble making up my mind.
Can anyone come up with a suggestion?
My uncle gave my dad an ear infection.
My girl-friend's nuts. My mother's less than kind.
To be or not to be, that is the question.
The whole thing causes me acute depression.
My future plans are not yet well-aligned.
Can anyone come up with a suggestion?
Life, by and large, is simply an affliction.
One's tempted just to leave it all behind.
To be or not to be, that is the question.
It's easy to arrange your own destruction
But once you're dead you don't know what you'll find.
Can anyone come up with a suggestion?
If you can recommend a course of action
Please send full details to the undersigned.
To be or not to be, that is the question.
Can anyone come up with a suggestion?
◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘
C. R. Edenhill: Crocodile
(T. H. rewrites L. C.)
Your guide is almost glad he surfaced; see
How his scales glisten in the sunlight; how his skin
Dazzles the company like a golden rain, –
You marvel where he gets his imagery from. . . .
But this same instant, here, far up the Nile,
The little reptile spreads its claws and grins.
'Stop, stop, oh for God's sake, stop!' you shriek
As the fish approach, but he grins on and on
Mercilessly till you think his jaws must crack . . .
And the reptile’s tail shines bright, swilled
In the flow of the river and a shoal of fish
Swims like innocents into its throat.
You plead, limp, dangling from the guard-rail, till
With a sudden fish-spilling burp, he stops: he dives
Grinning, soon after. You slump back down on the deck
Cold as a grief, your heart scarcely moving. . . .
Deep under the cruise boat’s deepest plate
This grinning 'croc is bursting with small fish.
