Party lines

In Competition No. 2368 you were asked for a poem entitled ‘At a cocktail party’. This sprung from my rereading of Auden’s delightful but rarely anthologised poem ‘At the Party’. Interestingly, not one of you described an occasion that was obviously enjoyable. Among the prizewinners (who get £25 each) Tim Raikes is the only guest who doesn’t feel violently antisocial. Noel Petty takes the crate of Cobra Premium beer.

‘Noel, you must meet Hugo: Hugo sings.
‘Noel plays viols, you know. Or is it lutes?
‘Anyway, Hugo, one of those early things.’
And off she trips to coin more attributes.

Hugo and I exchange a wary smile,
Then buckle down to milk our tenuous link,
Spar unproductively a little while,
Then wander off to find another drink.

They are an art-form, these ice-breaking ploys.
One hears oneself explained in one short phrase.
‘Gerald keeps goats.’ ‘Amanda has seven boys.’
‘Henry’s a whiz on early Georgian trays.’

Perhaps the form could be developed more;
One longs to make it meaningful and deep:
‘This is Letitia.