In 1781 George Crabbe’s first long poem, The Newspaper, was published, with a warning to all of us about its dangers, including . . .
Scribblers who court contempt, whose verse the eye
Disdainful views, and glances swiftly by:
This Poet’s Corner is the place they choose,
A fatal nursery for an infant Muse;
You are invited to produce up to 16 lines on this today rather challenged means of communication, or more modern methods such as radio, TV, laptops, and smartphones and so on, in Crabbe’s IP vein or your own, by the 23rd of February 2026 identified as for Compettition 72.
Yes, cracked and wooden, not too big,
I‘m meant to represent a pig.
But though my ears are made of rope
They hear, as ever, there is hope
For LUPO seventy plus three
In March from somewhere by the sea.