Poem by Robin Hardy

I’ve had to do this all by hand
So hope Christine will understand
My computer - it is out of ink
Brain won’t work - I cannot think
But I’ll ‘Lovatt’ when the prize is mine
And celebrate with ‘Hardy’ wine
Got writer’s cramp - my head is throbbin’
Here’s my entry - done by ‘Robin’

Can You Read These Lines?

DERE DAGO
FORTE LORES
INA RO
DEMARNT LORES
DEMAR TRUX
FULA ENSAN
COUSAN DUX

Translation: There they go, forty lorries in a row. Them aren’t lorries, them are trucks, full of hens and cows and ducks.

Wynne Harwood
Blenheim, NZ

Clerihews

Trish Parnell
Thinks she’s swell
She’s a thinker
But can’t do Stinker

Trish Parnell
Whakatane, NZ

Christine’s crosswords bring joy to me
I pounce upon them with cries of glee.
But Lovatt’s Logic – do I care
Who gets what, or when or where?

Meg Dillon
Margate, Qld

Oh Ali you are a funny ‘un,
With your cross-words as you’re doing ‘um
Can’t find the word, so expletives you use
If I didn’t do that, well I might blow a fuse!

Ali Nielsen
Ballogie, Qld

Allan McSwain
Was considered a pain
He was rather barmy
As he lived alone as a farmy

Allan McSwain
Margaret River, WA

I’m Beverley
I puzzle daily
Crosswords for leisure
Give me pleasure

Bev Krelle
Horsham, Vic

My name is Kerry
I live near a ferry
My deep river of fear
Is no dictionary near.

Kerry Benger is my name
A close brush with fame?
The closest I’ve come
Is DIY’s No. 1

Kerry Benger
Mannum, SA

Pat Barker Likes to travel
Sometimes along the gravel
Open highways, trees and vines
And maybe stops for a few small wines.

Mrs P Barker
Portland, Vic

Puzzles, my pastime

My pastimes, which I think are beaut,
Puzzles are my main pursuit
Every day with pen in hand
A cryptic sits there in demand

Solving smartens up my brain
Then off I go to catch a train
To make a buck and earn my keep
Then hope to eat, relax and sleep

Another day, another quest
I can’t decide which are the best
Sudokus, Starhunts, Cryptics too
No matter; any one will do

My schooling didn’t count for much
But puzzles keep my brain in touch
They teach me more than I could learn
At school, as far as I’m concerned

So thanks to Lovatts for the fun
There’s puzzles there for everyone
Be like me, for I’ve been hooked
And get yourself a puzzle book.

Bruce fisher
Bayswater, Vic

Need to Knead

My wife has a sore hip so she needs me to knead her,
I have a bad back so I need her to knead me,
So, it is needless to say that we both get relief from being needed (kneaded).

Ross La Spina
Bicton, WA

The Tale of Sisyphus, King of Corinth

King Sisyphus, as I’ve heard tell,
Died and went down straight to hell.
Stan said “O, welcome sire,
For you I’ve punishment most dire,
Because you’ve been a bad, bad boy.
You’ve never brought your people joy.
Up that great hill you’ll push this stone
And mind, you’ll do it all alone.
You’ll push and shove, then near the top
The stone will roll back, plop, plop, plop.
You’ll never finish, no, not you.
There’ll be no end till the moon turns blue.
Don’t scowl at me, and stamp and bellow,
You’ve brought it on yourself, old fellow.
You lived in sin, it was your choice,
You didn’t heed that inner voice.
Get out! Begin your futile task,
Don’t look for help, you need not ask”
Three thousand years have come and gone
Still Sisyphus struggles with the stone.

Make sure, my brother, that your life
Does not end in that type of strife.
For once you’ve crossed the Great Divide
It’s then too late to turn and hide.
The Pearly Gates won’t open wide
To welcome you, with joy, inside.
Of course you know, because you’re clever,
Eternity is truly that – forever.

G.R. comber
Taree, NSW

Ode to the Lovatts Stinker

There’s a Lovatts for everyone; crosswords for choice.
And some are beginners and some are Rolls-Royce.
We feel rampant nostalgia with Memory Lane,
With Weismuller’s Tarzan, and unlikely Jane…
The NAAFI and ITMA induced us to hanker
For As Time Goes By back in old Casablanca;
And the jazz and the dance bands, like spruce Henry Hall.
But we think that the Stinker’s the pride of them all.

The Big Cash is comforting, coffee-break size,
And its nice big layout’s a relief to the eyes.
The Starhunt’s a teaser to test out our skill
In word-building and spelling (could that be whippoorwill?).
Is it good? Is it feed? But the down clue won’t fit,
And if i is nineteen, that one has to be grit….
But for sheer fascination, a search to enthral,
We still think the Stinker’s the pride of them all.

The Knowledge means racking our memory hard
For the name of the poet the Welsh call The Bard.
Though our history’s good, our geography’s poorer,
And we still have to check how to spell Isadora!
The Pop Words just lose us – we are so out-of-date
That we can’t even say who was Donovan’s mate,
Though we do know an actress called Lauren Bacall.
But we still think the Stinker’s the pride of them all.

Now, we like the Goliathon, though not arcane,
Because it still tests the intelligent brain.
Though the clues are not specialised, learned or rare,
Their skilled ambiguity can still bring despair.
But we manage this well with a trusty thesaurus,
Because we’re unlikely to meet Tyrannosaurus.
Though we do need to know that a Centre’s a Mall.
But we still think the Stinker’s the pride of them all.

And the Cryptics are beautiful; crafted and fun.
They need lateral thinking, like two can mean one.
Don’t know the answer? Look up fruit-eating bird.
And remember that old Saxon soldiers are Fyrd.
Initials or anagrams? Inclusive parts?
Or simply the knowledge that some deer are harts?
Are Poppies the answer to cutting too tall?
But we still say the Stinker’s the pride of them all.

And the Demon is daunting, no doubt about that;
What with bee’s leg hair tufts and a French Corporal’s hat.
Much classical knowledge we dig from our past,
And the subtle distinctions of Indian caste.

« Previous Page