A number of you will be familiar with this challenge, but no giving it away.


What Katy did

I want to see what Katy
did when she, like a turtle,
dove into her shell.
Game scuttles under;
lies in safety.

Catch the sun's fire,
fly into a storm's craw,
fish with hooks so golden,
rods that snap.

Dragonflies are such unlikely fliers, double wings
span my palm in iridescent flash,
point to danger.

Us. We are the dragons,
slayers, and we hide,
bound by what we're seeing.

Er...wild guess time...is this an allusion to Shakespeare's The Turtle and the Phoenix?

Nigel

Nope. This isn't making any allusions that I'm aware of.

The challenge is contained within the the poem.

Julie

Yay!

Okay, graywyvern has seen and met the challenge. Who's next?

Julie

I've been a little less straightforward, Julie, but hopefully you will consider this an acceptable answer to your challenge:


How can this child, this hollow wisp,
hurl smiles like a nor'easterly wind
breaks into a hermit's solaced house,
gusting hurly burly through the walls?

Flower stems can shatter stone,
deftly parting a sea of rock; her tiny,
captivating giggle can roar and swell
turbulently in my desert ears. I can't leave
her grin behind; it will not cease its chase.


Rachel



[This message has been edited by Rachel (edited June 27, 2001).]

Yay! Rachel met the challenge, and with a bit more subtlety.

Anyone else going to play?

Julie

I would, if I could even begin to figure it out... http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/ubbhtml/smile.gif

Whirled Atlas

Cowabunga, dudettes! Never call me a pissant.
(Twerp, maybe: blame it on the foibles of Phys. Ed.)
Mint another Quasimodo pontifex for Mordecai—
Rowe v. Wade stands; the Court overturned our van.

Coo Verlaine or Mallarmé into a pretzeled hell;
sink e-mail spammers into bubbling pits.
Burgle the baubles of cut-rate crudité:
Ronald McDonald its varicose kingfish—
kill some spleen cells, dessicate your liver.

Pool your parasols to watch that westside chica
go tweak the duende; haven’t seen her since
a natty, nappy-headed out-of-work aviator
ontologically challenged by Twin Peaks
(Killington and Everest—not!) reversed the Big Bang.

Cocker-spaniel Cerberus makes Pluto’s short list
on bulldozed ardor, squeaky carousel of loss.
Vague isthmuses estrange them—does he row?
She marimbas his ribcage in Montego Bay,
rutabagas pulped in her carpetbag.
Daddy’s still her chief henchman and garrotter:
damned obsessed he was, cleaving white from yolk.

Aha, Matilda yammered to the boss
tin-eared in the towers of technocracy,
addled cranium pummeled a la Jake LaMotta—
whazzup from the land of succotash.
Kentucky Derby’s loss, he says, goading Mr. Ed—
in Borough Park or some such place—into a canter.

Bury all ear candy in the urge to overdub;
Linzer torte crumbs strewn from here to Oz,
lo mein on canvas, noodle famine wrecked ya—
victimized with string cheese in an espresso bar.
Say, loan a vet the whiskers of Yosemite Sam?

Are candy hangovers fatal? For a modest fee
Nixon will be flogged in effigy, leaving Agnew
your kids, kit ‘n caboodle to an alley cat.
Man, do I dig watching Vega and Deneb wane.
Osiris guffaws, fluffed into a lurching waddle—
a horrifying penultimacy. Quota ravin’ nunca mas.

--Tony Hoffman

Tony,

I think you win,
chester.

Julie

I don't think I got this one. Since the challenge is over: What was it about?

Hey, Solan.

The challenge isn't over, if you still want to give it a try.

To figure out the challenge, pay special attention to the first and last words of each line.

Julie

I had something here that might have blown Julie's challenge (although with her liberal hint, I doubt it). Anyhow, now I understand the challenge and will see what I can do. http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/ubbhtml/smile.gif

Lessandra

[This message has been edited by Lessandra (edited August 02, 2001).]

Ton Of Washing

Ton of clothes piled up, add
Damsel Ann in distress and Jeffer's
Son comes to the rescue! Maddy's
Son picks up some clothes, packing the common
Row of washers - but then Jack's
Son comes over with a burr
In his butt, spoiling to fight with Harry's
Son! Dear damsel grabs Jack's son by the tail -
Or seat of his pants, and with a sharp rebuke
Ann and her Mum chase them all away, and scurry
Gannet-like back to their washing.

Enough, already!

Hellloooo Julie?! Where are you? Did my Ton of Washing do okay? I've never done a challenge before, and without your hint I doubt that I could have figured it out. If no one else is going to try this maybe others would like another hint or an explanation of the challenge.

Thanks,
Lessandra

Chinese puzzle box from my
fingers tapping.
Open-
no, closed,
no, broken.
Hiding naked,
revealing all and nothing
Am I seen or the observing?
Here goes Alice again, down
down
the rabbit-hole, emerging with
true falsehoods.
Beauties and beasties
we
mainline our drug of choice,
the mind.

Just a post to keep these topics active in the hopes they can still inspire you ...