Wordsworth

The challenge was to respond to an airport Customs officer who asks, “Have you anything to declare?” Prose and poetry were accepted.

Rangiora’s Annabel Twohill writes:

“I have a jar of weevils,/Purchased in Bangkok,/A tiger skin, some rhino horn,/ And budgies in my socks.” Andrea Levarre-Waters, Auckland: “I declare my own ineptitude, for I swallowed umpteen prophylactics but forgot to fill them with drugs.”

Margi Parker, Queenstown: “A viral flu I must declare:/Spanish, Swine or something rare/Perhaps it’s Bird – I thought I saw/ Some crated ducks at the cargo door.”

Rex McGregor, Auckland: “The cocaine that is sewn in my suit/And my camouflaged contraband loot/Are no threat to our purity/Or biosecurity./It’s not like I’m carrying fruit.” Poppy Sinclair, Karori: “Yes, I’d be delighted. It’s not often we Black Caps get a chance to declare.”

Kaye Bennetts, Whangaparaoa: “I declare a man in uniform/Can knock my heart about a bit./What time do you get off your shift?/So I can help you out of it.”

Vi McIntosh, Blenheim: “I do declare this bag-to-hand/Is packed with clothes, not contraband./I also have some dutyfree/Within the limit, all for me.”

But the prize goes to John Edgar of Christchurch: “Anything to declare?”, you ask./A gallon of whisky in a wooden cask./A potted flowering geranium./A kilo of weapons-grade uranium./A small jar of honey, and a large bag of money./“Sorry sir, you can’t bring in the honey.”

For the next contest, send us a fourline poem with amusing predictions for the year 2019. Rhyme is optional and the name “Trump” is not permitted, but you may refer to him indirectly. Entries, for the prize below, close at noon on Thursday, December 20.

Submissions: wordsworth@listener.co.nz or Wordsworth, NZ Listener, Private Bag 92512, Wellesley St, Auckland 1141. Please include your address. Entries may be edited for sense or space reasons.