In Competition No. 3300, you were invited to describe in verse a meal of your choice with a well-known poet, living or dead.
The entry was a whopper, with too many star performers to name individually. Hats off, all round. The winners, which include David Silverman’s account of going on a bender with Dante, take £25.
Our breakfast stood – a Loaded Plate –
Of Bacon – crisply Hot
Two Sausages – in bursting skins –
Of mushrooms – a compote
The farmyard’s Gift – two yellow Eggs
Whose faces – shamed the Sun
Fried Bread that sizzled in the Pan –
Hot Sauce upon my Thumb
A dash of fragrant Marmalade
Tomatoes – in a Sea
Of Baked Beans yielding rosy Sauce
For added Piquancy.
Our hunger met – our polished Plates –
Did Satisfaction prove
For we had dined – deliciously
And We could – hardly Move –Janine Beacham
Last week I went for liquid lunch with Dante.
He started with a straight Bacardi Breezer.
I added lime to mine.
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