In Competition No. 2796 you were invited to submit a poem about a minor ailment written by a hypochondriac.
Brian Dillon, in his book Tormented Hope: Nine Hypochondriac Lives, gives a vivid description of the hypochondriac’s mental and emotional landscape: ‘You listen constantly, in a kind of trance, for communications from your body; it is as if you have become a medium, and your organs a company of fretful ghosts, whispering their messages from the other side.’
Among the body parts that whispered especially insistently and alarmingly in the entry were noses, feet and fingers. I was entertained by Rob Stuart’s double dactylic contribution and impressed by Sylvia Smith, Anne du Croz, John Whitworth, Carolyn Thomas-Coxhead, Annette Field and Paul Evans. The winners, printed below, are rewarded with £25 each, except W.J. Webster who takes £30.
The twinges in my little toe
May seem a trivial thing,
But what is small can always grow
And then what might it bring?
Achilles’ problem with his heel
Determined his demise:
A footling ailment may conceal
Fate’s ultimate surprise.
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