In Competition No. 2878 you were invited to submit a poem composed of three haikus that looks forward to the year ahead. The traditional Japanese haiku contains 17 syllables in three unrhymed lines of five, seven and five syllables (though these rules are not always observed by western poets). It is neatly summed up here by Stanley J. Sharpless:
 

This is a haiku.
Five syllables, then seven.
Then five more. Got it?

 
The winners take £17 each. Hats off to Max Ross for injecting a sliver of optimism into the almost all-encompassing gloom of the winning line-up. Happy New Year.
 

Ukip wins more seats.
Nation takes to drinking beer
And falling asleep.
 
Britain becomes known
As Europe’s sleeping partner.
New PM fights back.
 
‘Ukip if you want,’
Says Premier, ‘the PM
Is not for kipping!’
Alan Millard
 
Another Royal
Baby — Harry and Andrew
Further from the throne.
 
Tortured genius played
By Benedict Cumberbatch
Wins for Best Actor.
 
Egyptian goddess,
Mother of Horus, look who
Goes by your name now.
Chris O’Carroll
 
Fijians will say,
‘Stonehenge was stolen from us.
Return it now, please.’
 
Turner prize winner
Throws invisible discus.
Amazing acclaim.
 
Much too far fetched?
January after next
Is the time to say.
J. Seery
 
Looking forward to
seeing the swingometer
going haywire on
 
poll-day, as the new
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern
bloody the noses
 
of Conservatives,
Labour, and bring about the
final LibDemise.
Bill Greenwell
 
In twenty-fifteen
whole populations go mad
and bay at the moon.
 
Grim days of Nada
mean the booze has run out at
the Last Chance Saloon.
 
Words exhaust themselves
Pandora’s box is empty
Apocalypse soon.
Basil Ransome-Davies
 
Cold spring of stasis:
point-scoring politics — but
new royal infant.
 
Class wars get bloody:
Eton crushed at battle of
White Van v. Prius
 
Six per cent turnout,
and after the election?
Emigrate? — but where?
D.A. Prince
 
Ne’er cast a Clegg out
Nor send a Cameron packing
Before May is out.
 
What a farrago!
So Ukip if you want to.
I’m not for kipping.
 
Such a close-run thing.
There’s scarcely a Miliband
To separate them.
David Silverman
 
Time to leave the old,
Forget what was not to be,
And welcome new ways.
 
Next year I’ll be bold,
Inspired by all that I see
In untasted days.
 
Perhaps I’ll be told
That Fortune has favoured me
With a winning phrase.
Max Ross
 
Farage takes the reins —
Beer and cigarettes half-price:
What a splendid chap.
 
HS2 is axed,
Cowell gets a proper job;
MPs tell the truth.
 
Value-added tax
Cut to three-point-five per cent;
Oh look, flying pigs!
Mike Morrison

No 2881: lines on law

Carol Ann Duffy wrote a poem entitled ‘22 Reasons for the Bedroom Tax’. You are invited to submit an amusing poem about a piece of government legislation. Please email entries (16 lines maximum) to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 14 January.