In Competition No. 3035 you were invited to provide a poem entitled ‘The Love Song of [insert name of a well-known figure]’. There was no obligation to write in the style of Eliot, but a few brave souls did so. David Shields’s ‘Love Song of Kim Kardashian’ (‘I have measured out my life in selfie sticks…’) made me smile. Max Gutmann’s ‘Love Song of Larry Nassar’(‘In this room the gymnasts come and go/ Saying, “My injury’s not near my — oh!”’) made me wince.
High fives to Ralph Rochester, Nicholas Stone, Mike Morrison and Mike Greenhough. The winners take £25 each.
The Love Song of F. Ingvar Kamprad
Now that you’ve unpacked my heart
And checked that it’s complete,
It’s time for passion. You may start
By folding. Do not cheat.
Should you decide I suit your style —
Convenient, well-packed —
You might like this, well worth your while:
My replica, exact.
Efficiency’s emotion squared,
And repetition lust:
I think you’ll find we’re well-prepared:
I know you will adjust.
Come with me, heading one way round
Love’s labyrinthine spree,
With tea-lights twinkling, napkins found,
And meatballs for our tea.
Bill Greenwell
The Love Song of Donald J. Trump
The prowess you display, Vlad, I desire.
At your crime-boss charisma I have failed.
I am too weak, yet strongly I admire
Your manliness. My heart you have impaled.
I wish I had the body to pull off
Those hunky bare-chest poses you have nailed.
You shed your shirt, my humble hat I doff
And feel my heart swell, proud to be impaled.
While you are iron-fisted and serene
In power, I have floundered, flamed and flailed.
Touch me, Vlad, make me icy, hard and lean
Like you whose ruthless thrust my heart impaled.
You’re no apprentice in this power game.
You’re tough, no loser, but a great prevailer.
I won’t get my fair chance to make my name
Until I’m more like Vlad, my heart’s impaler.
Chris O’Carroll
The Love Song of William Archibald Spooner
Cleverly Bark! Oh Cleverly Bark
I love to say Plingles with Cleverly Bark.
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