In Competition No. 2662 you were invited to submit a poem composed in the midst of a travel hold-up. The entry, a magnificent collective letting-off-of-steam, was peppered with exasperated references to apoplectic rage, bursting bladders and bickering children but these were tempered by those who acknowledged that there are benefits in being forced to take things more slowly.
Basil Ransome-Davies was one of them, and he pockets the bonus fiver. The other winners, printed below, get £25 each. Honourable mentions go to D.A. Prince, Ray Kelley, Gail White, Bill Greenwell and Joan Harris.
When trains are late you wait. There is no
choice.
At home you get the ranting Tannoy’s voice
forbidding this and that, the Coke machine,
the platform staff’s routine dyspeptic mien,
the sodden toilet and that sullen air —
so very Brit — of muttering despair…
The bats are out, a swooping crew. At noon,
chewing my trail mix by a salt lagoon,
I viewed a plankton-tinted chorus line —
those miracles of elegant design,
flamingos.
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