Spectator competition winners: looking for a tree in a line of poetry

The latest competition called for a sonnet that has the name of a tree hidden in every line. This fiendish challenge, which was suggested by a reader, drew a large entry — and the following envoi from Alanna Blake: ‘Gor blimey, not the easiest of romps!/ But, Lucy, press on with these teasing comps.’ We had room for seven winners this week. High fives to unlucky losers John Priestland, Nicholas Hodgson and Matt Quinn; 20 quid each to those below; Frank McDonald takes the bonus fiver.

Frank McDonald The Roman gods were wittier than ours; They could appear in shapes that fooled our sense, Bamboozling hapless maidens with their powers And giving those that pined some recompense. Our little planet offered loads of fun, And gods would often plump for competition, Confirming they were masters of their art, Clashing with fools who showed too much ambition. They were the richest, nuttiest divines, Who did not tax us with demands for love. They fathered budding heroes and gave signs That lust can figure in great minds above.