Spectator competition winners: Newly discovered short stories by poets

In Competition No. 3220, you were invited to supply a newly discovered short story by a well-known 19th- or 20th-century poet.

In a distinguished entry, Nick MacKinnon’s tale — unearthed in Wendy Cope’s archive and featuring the poet herself and her alter ego Jake/Jason Strugnell — stood out; as did Brian Murdoch’s T.S. Eliot, showing his hard-boiled side. It was especially painful to separate winners from losers this week, but after much humming and hawing I have awarded £25 each to the six printed below. Honourable mentions go to runners-up Moray McGowan, R.M. Goddard, Joe Houlihan, Frank Upton and David Shields.

He walked with slow, ruminative steps past the wheelbarrow, its red paint glistening with memories of the rainstorm under the still overcast sky. The chickens, white-feathered and dim-witted, clucked and pecked as best they could. So much depended, he mused. So very much seemed to depend upon every minute detail of this scene, the rustic conveyance and the homely flock of domestic fowl. Achieving the porch steps and back door, he entered the kitchen and had his way with the icebox, tugging it open and helping himself to the plump, smooth-skinned, purplish-red fruits inside. The wet plum-juice trickle down his chin was sweet, but with a tart, sour undernote to keep him alert. He and Herself often took care of business like this, so he knew just where to find the stub of pencil and scrap of notepaper. He’d compose a quick message and be on his way. Chris O’Carroll/William Carlos Williams

There was a Ludlow ploughboy whose name I can’t recall; I am better with Latin declensions than with names. Perhaps I remember him on account of a shared appreciation of the cherry blossom thereabouts at which I once saw him wistfully glance, perhaps for the burnish of youth upon every movement of his athletic limbs at village cricket.