The winner of the sonnet competition was announced tonight at the final tour dinner. I think you will agree that this is a very worthy winner...
Nor stone, nor mortar, vault nor grand rampart
Shall e'er suffice to one cathedral make.
For what have these to do that moves the heart,
Save build the outer for the inner's sake?
The soul may not be moved by soaring arcs,
And columns high may touch us not the least,
But human love and human words leave marks -
The echo of the soft voice of the priest.
The walls of brick and dust become imbued
By human watch and keep, so long sustained
With our devotion, such that words elude -
A timeless link that binds us, long ingrained.
But music, hanging in some lofty space,
Must surely speak: "This is a holy place."
- Robin Parkin
And, Dear Reader, I got a Runner Up Award for "Ode to the crates"
One rainy Portsmouth day, when coach exchanged
For smaller bus, post breakdown of the first.
The luggage moved, the aisles became deranged
With cases, robes and crates, t'was fit to burst.
At Chichester intensive searching round
Foyer and rooms, and places in between,
Two music crates were nowhere to be found,
No-one could tell the last time they'd been seen.
Ten phone calls soon revealed them now to be
At Luckett's depot in fair Fareham town.
Nick Iles and I set off, quick as could be
Hoping Ms Pam'la would not let us down.
Thanks to each one who helped, our story ends
United once again with crates, Dear Friends.
- Christine Beal
And an Honourable Mention went to the Treble who did not complete a Sonnet, but did complete a jolly good poem
"An Ode To Them Trebles"
Oh an ode to them trebles,
Those rascally treble,
Who skip on the pebbles,
And gain RSCM levels.
Their singing floats high
Whether above in the sky,
Or catacombs below
They reach not notes low.
They make such a sound,
That it echoes around,
To hear them in town,
You would pay many a pound.
Oh an Ode to them rebels,
Those trebles are rebels,
And make such a show
While the candles they glow.
Armed with their voices,
Their lanyards and scarves,
They sing throughout Europe,
Getting better by halves.
They make such a racket,
At leaders they kack-it,
Those rascally rebels,
That some may call trebles.
- Hamish Keen
In the "Naughty" category there was a winner, also the only contender, Keith Hempton. I have not seen the "offending" Sonnet, but am led to believe it was grand...
Cxxx
Nor stone, nor mortar, vault nor grand rampart
Shall e'er suffice to one cathedral make.
For what have these to do that moves the heart,
Save build the outer for the inner's sake?
The soul may not be moved by soaring arcs,
And columns high may touch us not the least,
But human love and human words leave marks -
The echo of the soft voice of the priest.
The walls of brick and dust become imbued
By human watch and keep, so long sustained
With our devotion, such that words elude -
A timeless link that binds us, long ingrained.
But music, hanging in some lofty space,
Must surely speak: "This is a holy place."
- Robin Parkin
And, Dear Reader, I got a Runner Up Award for "Ode to the crates"
One rainy Portsmouth day, when coach exchanged
For smaller bus, post breakdown of the first.
The luggage moved, the aisles became deranged
With cases, robes and crates, t'was fit to burst.
At Chichester intensive searching round
Foyer and rooms, and places in between,
Two music crates were nowhere to be found,
No-one could tell the last time they'd been seen.
Ten phone calls soon revealed them now to be
At Luckett's depot in fair Fareham town.
Nick Iles and I set off, quick as could be
Hoping Ms Pam'la would not let us down.
Thanks to each one who helped, our story ends
United once again with crates, Dear Friends.
- Christine Beal
And an Honourable Mention went to the Treble who did not complete a Sonnet, but did complete a jolly good poem
"An Ode To Them Trebles"
Oh an ode to them trebles,
Those rascally treble,
Who skip on the pebbles,
And gain RSCM levels.
Their singing floats high
Whether above in the sky,
Or catacombs below
They reach not notes low.
They make such a sound,
That it echoes around,
To hear them in town,
You would pay many a pound.
Oh an Ode to them rebels,
Those trebles are rebels,
And make such a show
While the candles they glow.
Armed with their voices,
Their lanyards and scarves,
They sing throughout Europe,
Getting better by halves.
They make such a racket,
At leaders they kack-it,
Those rascally rebels,
That some may call trebles.
- Hamish Keen
In the "Naughty" category there was a winner, also the only contender, Keith Hempton. I have not seen the "offending" Sonnet, but am led to believe it was grand...
Cxxx
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