Seasick

In Competition No. 2982 you were invited to recast John Masefield’s ‘Sea Fever’ in light of the news that the poet suffered from acute seasickness.

In his book Sea Fever, Sam Jefferson relates how as an apprentice seaman aboard the Gilcruix, the unfortunate Masefield was struck down by a brutal bout of mal de mer. A diary entry recorded the full horror: ‘I was faint, clammy, helpless, weakly wishing for death or dry land.’

Long lines, as per the original poem, mean that there is limited space for winners, which is a shame. This was a hugely popular comp and there were lots of skilful, witty and well-made entries (though with a fair, if not unsurprising, degree of repetition).

Those that nearly made the cut include Jerome Betts, Albert Black, A.H. Harker, Martin John, Walter Ancarrow, Neil Rowson, Iggy McGovern, William Casement, Jennifer Moore and Laurie Fitzpatrick. The winners, printed below, earn £35 each and the bonus fiver belongs to John Whitworth.

I would go down to the sea again but the waves
just make me sick.
If I go afloat in a rocking boat then I throw up
double quick.
So we might nip out for a glass of stout to the
pub around the corner,
But the salt-sea rave of the wildering wave and
its keening avifauna…?

No. I must bide by my own fireside in my flat in
Ponder’s End,
With a Chinese chicken takeaway to share with
a special friend,
With a pot of tea and a DVD and the radiators
humming;
What we like the most is we’re warm as toast
whatever weather’s coming.

A sailor’s life is all storm and strife, his ways are
wild and whacko,
The whores, the booze, the strange tattoos, the
stink of shag tobacco.
Give me the kiss of suburban bliss where the
pyrocanthas grow,
Where the children play at the close of day and
the cats stream to and fro.
John Whitworth

I must down to Boots again for some Oral Salts
and Kwells,
And maybe scopolamine patches, or packets of
Bonine gels,
And ephedrine highs and a Sea Band, hard on
the Nei Kuan point,
And Dramamine, and ginger root, and even a
big fat joint.