In our first issue, you were asked to write a plea to a potential commercial sponsor for our quarterly Competition. Entries were few and far between, suggesting, perhaps that our readers already have everything they need , …… Cartier watch, … Bugatti Veyron, … a lifetime’s supply of single malts, Tippex or Whopperburgers. Apparently the Editor is almost the only poet still maintaining the tradition of starving in a garret.
The best of a small pile appears below. In addition a commendation goes to Phyllis Reinhart who would have settled for almost anything from Harrods. Below the winners, you'll find details of this issue's competition.
To a Coy Sponsor
Had we but Dosh enough to Rhyme
In Luxury, there’d be no Crime
In your apparent Inhibition
Re sponsoring our Competition.
We would sit down and think which Way
To pass a Laid-Back, Lyric Day.
Thou by the Royal Mail wouldst send
A thumping Cheque, which we would Spend
On saying that you subsidise us.
Our winning poets would get prizes!
Therefore roll your cash, and all
Your Assets up into one Ball
And put the Package in the Post
Addressed to where it’s Needed Most
i.e. Ourselves. No Doubt The Sun
Will Headline the Good Deed you’ve Done.
When economic gloom attacks
And prices soar and cash in sacks
Will scarcely buy a loaf of bread
There comes the moment poets dread --
The Postman’s knock upon the door
With notice of just how much more
Their monthly mortgage bills will soar.
So, Nationwide, here’s my request
Regarding mortgage interest --
That you award some slight remission
To those who win our Competition,
And , as our Sponsor, brighten up
The bards who write for Lighten Up.
A whole percentage point sounds nice;
But even fractions would suffice.