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Heavens, George well done. Martin Fagg was the titan involved. A schoolmaster in Shrewsbury I believe. I met Roger Woddis once at a reading in a London bookshop. He was aggrieved the day I met him, whether just locally or, as it were, cosmically, I could not say. Did not E.O. Parrott have a canal Barge, Maude Gracechurch. And the Parrott of course edited that excellent primer of verse forms, 'How to be well-versed in Poetry', which I commend to all Sphereans who do not possess it.
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Blake's Macbeth
Dagger, Dagger, burning bright, Sensible to naught but sight, Handle toward my hand; I try To clutch thee, but can’t do so. Why? Fatal vision, art thou not Sensible to being caught In the hand? or art thou but Proof I’m going off my nut? What the dudgeon? What the blade? What the gouts of blood, new-made? What the heck? I see thee still. Thou marshall’st me the way I will. Dagger, Dagger, burning bright, Sensible to naught but sight, Why not, at bloody business time, Dare frame the servants for my crime? |
Great, Julie. Now there are so many fine entries, all of them consuming the full sixteen lines, that there may not even be room left over for honorable mentions. Excellent poem, though.
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'Oh what a rogue and peasant slave...' by Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller:
I ain't nothin' but a hound dog And a rogue is what I is, But this actor makes it seem like He is in a total tizz. He's a weepin' over Hec'ba - Though she ain't no friend of his. I'm supposed to be high-classed But I just deserve to swing. Still, I got myself a notion That maybe the play's the thing. Me I ain't never caught a rabbit But I might just catch a king. |
An inspired choice of author and poem, Julie! That's terrific.
I hear that Graham Greene once entered, under a pseudonym, a Speccie that required the imitation of his own style--and came second. Anyone know more about this? I'd love to read his entry and the one that came first. |
Catherine, a quick Google search tells me GG wrote reviews for the Spectator, but it was the New Statesman whose contest he entered:
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George, I'm especially tickled by your Plath and most recent Hamlet.
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Choosing Rhyme (anonymous sources)
Eeeny, meeny, miny, minx, Woe betide the man who thinks! Every time I use my noodle, I learn again that life is brutal. Eeny, meeny, miny, mee, Should I die, or should I be? Who among us wouldn't care to End the shocks that flesh is heir to? Eeeny, meeny, miny, murry, Should I dawdle, should I hurry? Let me stop and take a breath. Perhaps I will not care for death? Eeeny, meeny, miny, moe, The more I think, the less I know. I have no answers, only questions. Folks, I'm open to suggestions. |
Wow! The competition is fierce on this one! I predict an Erato landslide!
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Well, it will be if they actually enter, and enter the right competition!
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