New Poet Laureate No 4058

New Poet Laureate No 4058

Set by Hank T Romein

We asked you for an application for the above post, in verse, from a candidate of your choice: an established poet, a songwriter, or even someone with less obvious qualifications. David Blunkett, for example, has inflicted his scribblings on us before now

Though Harold Pinter died on 24 December, I have allowed G M Davis's entry into the winners' box in tribute to the great man and also because it was submitted before his death. £20 to the winners, the best of whom (Josh Ekroy) also gets the Tesco vouchers.

I am a poet.

I am laureate.

I am like to be a poet.

Am I to be a poet laureate?

Would I like to be?

I would be a poet to like.

I seek to unearth position as boss

in Ungreji-speaking world of verse,

to wipe your sceptred smile and unmask

your Great White Butt of Sack.

With me it's Strictly Come Sestina

every Newsnight, mi Facebook festooned with Poppadom Liz and Fenugreek Phil,

dedicatees. I have 150 sonnets all

on Helen Mirren with honourable corgis

on their ormolu thrones lifting elegant legs,

princesses' financial resolutions in couplets,

concrete pantoums in form of helicopters.

Chennai Tennyson plugs into opps here:

what is jewel in crown of Mr Faber?

Big time. Never mind cricket score, inquire:

is your poetry of Motion moving on, ya?

(Daljit Nagra) Josh Ekroy

I spit on your laureateship,

It has the odour of death,

Of irradiated poison,

Of the charnel house and torture chamber.

Yet it is the cross that I must bear,

The crown of thorns,

In the agonising knowledge

That only I can speak for England.

Only I can confront your lies with genius,

You stinking capitalist bastards.

(Harold Pinter) G M Davis

Be kind to dis poet in springtime;

'Cos me, I jest wanna raise rap!

Dere's more to dis poetry bizniz

Than writin some donnish ol crap.

Such stuff, it ain't cool for de street man,

We need to connect wid de folk

Who matter, an dose on de roads man

Ain't dreemin - dey tokin de tok.

Dere's all kinds a use for a lyric,

Dere's sonnets an nonnets an such,

But poetry needs loud backin music

An foot-tappin riddim much much.

So let's show de royals some reggae,

I bet yu our Queenie will rate

De rap I'll perform at de Palace

When I have become Laureate.

(Benjamin Zephaniah) Alanna Blake

No 4061 The look of love

Gordon Brown is a big Burt Bacharach fan, wrote Kevin Maguire in this magazine last November. So, can we have any Bacharach song (he's had 52 hits in the top 40 in the UK), rewritten in honour of his number-one fan?

Entries to be in by 29 January

Email: comp@newstatesman.co.uk