[John Whitworth]

Pompous and prolix? Can that be us? Yes it can I am sure. I think examples can be found at leastv two hundred years ago. Are you as old as THAT, Bill?

No. 2801: SHOW TIME

You are invited to rewrite in pompous and prolix style any well-known simple poem (please specify; 16 lines max.). Email entries to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 5 June.

[Rob Stuart]

Originally Posted by John Whitworth

Pompous and prolix? Can that be us? Yes it can I am sure. I think examples can be found at leastv two hundred years ago. Are you as old as THAT, Bill?

No. 2801: SHOW TIME

You are invited to rewrite in pompous and prolix style any well-known simple poem (please specify; 16 lines max.). Email entries to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 5 June.

This has a distinctly Gavin Ewart-y feel to it. Looks like it could be fun.

[Jeanne G]

I keep trying to read these things and it's all very British and goes over my little Canadian head (apparently I have many Britishisms to learn yet). Pompous I think I get, but prolix? Bloody google again.


Jeanne

[Brian Allgar]

I think perhaps 'prolix' could be translated as the writer's equivalent of 'blabbermouthed'.

[Jeanne G]

Originally Posted by Brian Allgar

I think perhaps 'prolix' could be translated as the writer's equivalent of 'blabbermouthed'.

Oh goodie, now that's my language (this latter part anyway), and my species! How can the clay say to the potter, why hast thou made me thus?


Jeanne

[Brian Allgar]

I do not like thee - why, I cannot say.
Is it thy breath, that reeks of rancid onions?
Is it thy feet, deformed by warts and bunions?
Thy nasal hair, exuberant and grey?

Thy scabby pate, thy brow grotesquely simian?
Thy lurching gait, thy swinish bloodshot eyes?
Thy buttocks, like a pair of flaccid pies?
Thou couldst not be mistaken for Endymion!

Thy raucous voice, thy sneering and thy snarling,
Thy violent tantrums, and thy vicious temper
Surpassing dogs with rabies or distemper -
In short, I’d find it hard to call thee “Darling”.

Perhaps, above all else, that fæcal smell
Is why I do not like thee, Doctor Fell.

[Mary McLean]

Heh heh heh -- this one is right up my street.

Fire and Ice

Although the future termination
Of planetary inhabitation
May come about through conflagration,
There's no definitive negation
Of the contrary situation:
Galloping global glaciation.
Metaphor extrapolation
Provides no further information.

Was:
Metaphorical simulation
Does not provide illumination.

[Douglas G. Brown]

An elderly person of masculine gender
(A native-born son of the Isle of Nantucket),
Possessed a male organ so long, he could render
Its tip to his lips, and then zestfully suck it.

With laminar flow, the emerging ejaculate
Would drool from his mouth, and then pleasantly run
All the way to his jawbone; which then would initiate
A smile on his visage and feelings of fun.

Concurrent to wiping this dribbled ejaculate
From hair of his chin, he’d declare (with loquacity),
The sexual lust he could orally satiate
Would bolster the case for the likely veracity

Of boasting; "If somehow my ear was transformed
To a typical feminine vaginal cavity,
The coital act could be freely performed
With utmost decorum, and ponderous gravity."

Prolixity comes natural. Pomposity takes a little work.

[Rob Stuart]

The petals of flowering plants of the genus Rosa reflect light of the following spectral co-ordinates; wavelength 620-740 nm, frequency 480-400 THz,

The petals of flowering plants of the family Violaceae reflect light of the following spectral co-ordinates; wavelength 380-450 nm, frequency 800-715 THz,

Sucrose activates the G-protein gustducin which catalyzes the conversion of ATP to cAMP, leading to neurotransmitter release,

And so do you (metaphorically).

[Mary McLean]

Brilliant Rob, but I would like to pompously take issue with your scientific description: petals don't possess spectral coordinates, they reflect light of a given wavelength and frequency. I feel that your N would get this right.