In Comp. 3350 you were invited to write a refutation of a well-known line from literature. Ian Jack once imagined quibbling with Jane Austen over ‘a truth universally acknowledged…’: ‘“Universally”, Miss Austen, even among pederasts with good fortunes, or among the heathen races?’ Poetry dominated, which is reflected in the winning entries (£25 to each). Pats on backs to Tracy Davidson, D.A. Prince, Nicholas Lee, Sylvia Fairley and others.
The unexamined life is most worth living:
I implore you, feel the gusto in the Now.
There’s so much to do, and Time is unforgiving,
You’ll never figure why we’re here, or how.
Leave experiences quite unmediated,
Surf that sense-data as if it were a wave;
There’s a world outside yourself you’ve underrated:
Don’t let introspection lull you to the grave.
It’s thumb-suckers’ comfort only, self-absorption,
Scrap those navel-gazing theories you revolve.
Face the world instead; it’s out of all proportion,
Like an ocean into which all selves dissolve.
Let examiners continue their dissections,
As they tear themselves apart, just turn away
For the Now is beckoning from all directions:
Come unblinking and unthinking out to play.Adrian Fry
Essentially a tragic age?
No, comic, I would say:
John Thomas rising from the page
While making new-mown hay –Lady Jane, and dialect,
While joining in a jiggle –
And Clifford, who does not suspect –
My goodness, what a giggle!Refuse to take it tragically?
Well, I for one do mourn
That Lawrence, almost magically,
Reduces all to corn –Life’s an existential jest:
Does that sound rather callous?
It saddens me though, when undressed,
To dwell upon the Phallus.Bill Greenwell
‘My dear Mr Bennet, have you heard Saltburn is to be let at last?’ Mr Bennet replied that he had not.
‘But it is, and a young man of not thirty years, with a good fortune, is to take it. He has visited with his friend Mr Quick, lately down from Oxford. We must surely attend one of their parties.’
‘Perhaps the young men will prefer to be alone.’
‘Mr Bennet, how can you vex me so? You know full well that our daughters are eligible and pretty. You have no respect for gaiety.’
‘You mistake me my dear. I have every respect for gaiety. Sir James has indeed invited me to assist at one of his, ahem, parties.’
‘You, Mr Bennet?’
‘Indeed so. It is not often acknowledged that a single man, in possession of a good fortune, may be simply in search of some fun.’Chris Ramsey
Beauty is Truth, Truth Beauty: that is not
The total sum of all you need to know.
That which the coughing Hampstead bard forgot
I’m pleased to itemise for you below:
You need to know the way to separate
A bottle of prosecco from its cork;
To call an Uber, take a selfie, eat
A lobster thermidor sans knife and fork;
How long to leave kefir grains in the fridge
And what to do when they begin to curdle;
You need to know your Lotus from your Bridge
And what’s the best of start words for your Wordle:
Adieu! Adieu. So fade my sad refrains.
I leave this aide memoire for you to keep.
Fled is this music – one last thing remains:
You need to know whether you wake or sleep.David Silverman
We happy families, they say,
Are all alike; unhappy ones,
Unhappy each in their own way.
But while my neighbours and their sons
And daughters while away the hours
In simple, soft, suburban bliss,
And tend to gardens full of flowers –
I feel that I would be remiss
Were I to never mention how
My uncle built a Panzer tank
And drove it right past city hall
And used it, then, to rob a bank.
He’s now in jail. Yet even so,
He’s having fun. To that extent,
Although he has twelve years to go,
My family is quite content.Steven James Peterson
The worst of times: a child who dies
Beneath a cruel carriage wheel.
A sister used, despite her cries,
By aristos who do not feel.The best of times: the marquis killed.
And the people have arisen.
But still revenge within us cries
With a doctor’s curse in prison.Neither the best of times nor worst,
Watching the next Evrémonde heir
To a title forever cursed
Mouthing a final silent prayer.Neither the worst of times nor best,
By the scaffold daily sitting,
Knowing that though I’m still oppressed,
I’ve improved my skill at knitting.David Blakey
‘A garden is a lovesome thing.’ You what?
It’s not. The idea is absurd.
Mine’s like a parking lot,
Crapped on by every single bird.
And really, is ‘lovesome’ even a word?
But ‘grotty’ is, and mine’s a load of grot.
Maybe I am too easily deterred,
But I can’t grow grass. (I’ve never tried pot!)
Roses? No chance. What flourishes are weeds,
Greenfly, blight, slugs and dandelion seeds.
Ignore TV or all the books one reads,
A fourth-floor flat is what one really needs.
I’m up to here with bloody gardening.
A garden’s nothing like a lovesome thing.Brian Murdoch
No. 3353: Running on full
You are invited to submit a poem about the dine-and-dash phenomenon (16 lines max). Please email entries to competition@-spectator.co.uk by midday on 5 June.
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