[Brian Allgar]

"You are invited to supply a poem, not necessarily a sonnet, for a well-known painting of your choice"

Adrian, I think that leaves it pretty open.

[Adrian Fry]

Thanks for your clarification, Jayne; I do tend to over analyse these rubrics.

[RCL]

Bruegel, Landscape with the fall of Icarus

As Daedelus taught his fledgling son
some basic rules for his survival,
fathers still require their sons
to heed this law when taking flight:
avoid extremes of sea and sky.
Though sons at first obey their sires,
they think they’ll get a second chance,
so most rebel, extend their wings,
hover, swing, swoop, and soar
to break from level, steady courses.
Skillful and fully self-absorbed,
some fly too high, entranced by light,
and drop into a shadow sun,
repeat the Fall each time one falls.

[George Simmers]

On a Warhol

Is this a tin of soup? This this
Is neither tin nor soupy. This
Is not a rounded real thing; this
Is a flat that and that only. This
Is no still life but lifeless. This
Is not even nature morte, since this
Owes nothing to nature. This
Is a piece of canvas marked like this
Which may be sold, and people may hang this
On a wall, and look at this and say: 'This
Is art, though with nothing to say except this:
In the end, this is this.'
That is that.

[Adrian Fry]

The Treachery of Images by Magritte

This is not a poem about a pipe that’s not a pipe
Nor, indeed, is it about a pipe that is.
It’s not a poem, it’s about nothing; merely meant to take a snipe
At the sort of folk that Art sets all a fizz.
So which is better, or which worse, out of the picture and the verse?
Which is most not the thing the artist claims it isn’t?
Since the poem seems a poem and the picture at least terse
Please choose the picture; it makes the more expensive present.

[Curtis Gale Weeks]

This may seem a silly question, but does The Spectator seek only humorous, light poetry in these contests, or would a serious, dark poem have a chance?

[Rob Stuart]

Sheet pulled up over your arms and your head,
Thighs open wide and pudendum on show,
I can’t help thinking you look like you’re dead.

Awkwardly sprawled in the nude on a bed,
This is an ersatz forensic photo.
Sheet pulled up over your arms and your head,

You’re not a girl but an object instead.
Would you have freely displayed yourself so?
I can’t help thinking you look like you’re dead.

Scholars may protest that I have misread
Courbet’s intentions, but what do they know.
Sheet pulled up over your arms and your head,

Voilà. Your public identity’s shed.
You’re Everywoman. I get it, although
I can’t help thinking you look like you’re dead.

[Rob Stuart]

Originally Posted by Curtis Gale Weeks

This may seem a silly question, but does The Spectator seek only humorous, light poetry in these contests, or would a serious, dark poem have a chance?

Serious poems can and do win these competitions, Curtis, although many of them seem best suited to light verse. This particular comp has greater scope than many for something with a bit of gravitas, I feel. Then again, I have learned not to try and second guess poetry editors. Submit and hope for the best, I say!

[Jayne Osborn]

Curtis,

Rob is quite right, but to add a little to what he said: it doesn't necessarily have to be "light" or funny, but the winning stuff does tend to be witty and clever, to put it very simply!

Let's face it, many of us here have won on numerous occasions and any one of us is capable of coming up with the goods, so to some extent it's the luck of the draw... (forgive all these clichés) ...

I hope you're going to show us your serious, dark poem!

Jayne

[Curtis Gale Weeks]

Rob, Jayne, thanks for the feedback.

Jayne, I'm still trying to make sure I have serious, dark and not trite and trivial. I have 10 lines only and am thinking of tagging on another 4 or 6...