Spectator Competition: Blissfully ignoring

In Competition 3355 you were invited to write a romantic poem that did its best to gloss over something unlovely. I think I imagined odes to beautiful sewage-filled rivers and so on, but should have phrased the challenge more clearly, since many understandably decided a love poem was in order. Either way there was much to enjoy. Among the paeans of praise were hints at a jarring laugh, huge pimple, jug ears, body odour – and much worse.

   I liked Elizabeth Kay’s poem detailing a beloved’s snores but it was disqualified for putting the snoring to the fore (‘The distinctive call of an eider duck/ Plus the sound of an airbed deflating/ Or the distant growl of the M25/ Then the huffing of two hedgehogs mating’). Also deserving of a mention: Lettice Buxton’s account of an incident that revealed Frank’s unsympathetic side; and Sue Pickard’s of romance in the face of bad breath (‘Do not think me aloof when I come to call/ For if I sit far enough away/ I hardly notice your halitosis at all’). The entries below reflect the wide-ranging interpretations and each win £25.

Beloved, it’s not money I desire,

Your cheap sheets are as fine to me as silk,

You warm me so we never need a fire,

We need no cream when I prefer skim milk.

Your frugal ways don’t show in your embraces,

It doesn’t cost us much to stay in bed –

I never cared for living in showplaces,

You need not haggle for a bigger shed.

Your power-saving plans are so inventive,

So dashing, manly, reckless, captivating,

That timer in the shower – so attentive!

It gives me such a frisson when we’re mating.

My darling, ravish me with thrifty passion,

This interlude will be the first of many,

And love is free, it’s not a thing you ration,

So hold me like I am your final penny.