Spectator triolet competition winners: ‘Penelope Cruz has told me no’

Your latest challenge was to compose a Valentine’s triolet. A famous example of the triolet is Frances Cornford’s catty ‘To a Fat Lady seen from the Train’ (‘O fat white woman whom nobody loves/ Why do you walk through the field in gloves’), but it was that ace trioleteer Wendy Cope’s rather more charming ‘Valentine’ that prompted me to invite you to take on this medieval form. It was a varied, funny and accomplished entry: you rose admirably to the challenge of breathing life into your triolets, despite the formal straitjacket. The winners below take £15 each.

Rosemary Kirk You weren’t the one I would have picked if it had been just down to me. My friend insisted, so I ticked. You weren’t the one I would have picked but when we met we somehow clicked. Dear Valentine, how could it be you weren’t the one I would have picked if it had been just down to me?

John Whitworth You’re much fairer than the fairest of the       choristers of Kings; When you move you move like Aphrodite       slipping through the waves. You’re far softer than the feathers on a cherub’s       whirring wings, You’re much fairer than the fairest of the       choristers of Kings, And your quintessential quantum of the       thinginess of things Makes the shadows of the dead rise up delighted       from their graves. You’re much fairer than the fairest of the       choristers of Kings; When you move, you move like Aphrodite       slipping through the waves.

Ann Drysdale I’ll write a card because I always do But you won’t get to see it, being dead. I know you liked the ones I wrote for you. I’ll write a card because I always do And since there’s no one else to send it to I’ll keep it with the three you never read. I’ll write a card because I always do But you won’t get to see it, being dead.

Sylvia Fairley My love, let’s swing from the chandelier while sharing our zimmer frames; you’ve a taste for vintage wine? — I’m here my love — let’s swing from the chandelier! The flame has dimmed, but we’ll persevere and indulge in erotic games… My love! Let’s swing from the chandelier while sharing our zimmer frames.

Rob Stuart I don’t approve of Valentine’s — It’s just an advertising ploy To flog more greetings card designs. I don’t approve of Valentine’s, Or love itself, which undermines Your self-control and saps your joy. I don’t approve of Valentine’s — It’s just an advertising ploy.

Alison Zucker Our love was like a red, red rose Before becoming brown and stale And foul to both the eye and nose. Our love was like a red, red rose, But then began to decompose. It is, alas, a common tale: Our love was like a red, red rose Before becoming brown and stale.

Bill Greenwell When all my greens begin to bloom — Is that the time to bed my dear, To take her to the upstairs room (When all my greens begin to bloom, As they will never in the tomb)? It might be far too late, I fear, When all my greens begin to bloom — Is that the time? To bed, my dear!

Max Gutmann One cannot come right out and state What valentines all truly seek. The way one hopes to end a date One cannot come right out and state. In romance, bluntness doesn’t rate; The word ‘romantic’ means ‘oblique’. One cannot come right out and state What valentines all truly seek.

Robert Schechter Penelope Cruz has told me no. She will not kiss or date me. I won’t give up on love although Penelope Cruz has told me no. I never thought I’d sink so low, But would you osculate me? Penelope Cruz has told me no. She will not kiss or date me.

D.A. Prince I never cared too much for Valentines: that Cards ’n’ Roses stuff is all for show. What’s that to do with love? One of the signs I never cared too much for Valentines was finding someone else to share fine wines, long evenings in, with books and radio. I never cared too much for Valentines. That Cards ’n’ Roses stuff is all for show.

Jayne Osborn Let’s run away to Gretna Green, no matter what. They say, ‘You’re too old. This affair’s obscene.’ Let’s run away to Gretna Green. Our children think we should have been content in our own way. Let’s run away to Gretna Green no matter what they say.

To mark the tercentenary of Thomas Gray’s birth, you are invited to submit an ‘Elegy on a Country Churchyard’ in the metre of his famous poem. Please email entries of up to 16 lines to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 2 March.