[Chris O'Carroll]

Originally Posted by Brian Allgar

I couldn't help wondering if it could be done as a palindromic paracrostic.

Well, of course you couldn't, Brian. A fellow performer once said about Laurence Olivier (I'm paraphrasing), "The wonderful thing about working with Larry is that nobody else would think to say, 'As I say this next line, I think I'll throw myself backwards across the table.' " When you've got the chops, you get the urge to use them.

I mucked around for a while trying to find an acrostic phrase spelled with letters that could end 16 lines of rhyme. I didn't succeed, but it ought to be possible given the number of words that rhyme while ending different letters:

zoo/through/blue/chew/you/coup/roux/ragout

fly/high/eye/radii

show/go/although/bon mot

flax/axe/attacks

comb/home/foam

etc.

[Nigel Mace]

Mmmm... Perhaps Lucy has a possible acrostic in mind? I've tried a blank verse solution.

PARTICULAR TRUTH

Can it be shown, by textual research,
how faithful scribes can count themselves Shia
and others, no less faithful, claim Sunni
is true, while both, none other entertain
nor contemplate mere moderation? Their
reason’s flailed by words of holy writ, whose
every phrase condemns as mens rea,
all free-made choice scorned by faith’s polemic.
Christian nor Muslim can abide a wit,
that hallowed phrases wont yield as foci,
in which to fry the human status quo.
Outside of faith's word readers - no question,
none - we know that truth’s not sub-syllabic!

[Brian Allgar]

Nigel, it's a neat idea to use the subject of the competition as your acrostic. Do you think it might be clearer if you capitalized the beginning of each line?

Chris, the examples you give would certainly help in the case of rhymes ending in a vowel sound. It's the consonants that are the bugger, even though you have some examples of those too. To get a regular rhyme scheme - e.g. AABB or ABAB - one needs an acrostic phrase containing the requisite amount of, say, DDs or PPs, or a phrase containing DxDx or PxPx (or homophones thereof based on your method), and in exactly the right places. Of course, the x's would also have to rhyme.

Acturally, the sentence I chose was quite helpful, since it consists mainly of MA pairs. Even so, I had a solitary letter 'I', and God stuck out like a sore thumb* (so to speak) since the only other D was several lines later, and the best I could do was a slant rhyme.

So I've abandoned all further attempts - that way madness lies - although I bet Bazza could do one on 'FUCK THIS FOR A LARK'.

* Since then, I've changed a few words and got rid of God (so to speak), so the slant rhyme is now a true one.

[Brian Allgar]

Nigel, I see you've spotted the automatic bonus - that the ends of lines form the same acrostic, although displaced upwards by one letter.

[John Whitworth]

Do you know, I could have sworn I posted a poem here. Ah well, try again. I can't manage Nigel's circular thingy though.

Chain Reaction

I stand alone, unfazed and undepressed,
Descrying rubble smoking in the rain.
No-one denies the sorrow and the strain,
Now ruin grips our erstwhile little nest.
To anchor in the Islands of the Blest,
To be at peace! Misfortune’s heavy chain
Now batters like a hammer in my brain,
Now grants me neither remedy nor rest.

The blight, the barren years, the bitter blast,
The wailing winds of withering and wilt,
The encroaching night that cancels out the day
Yield chaos, and unbuild what once was built.
The serpent present swallowing up the past,
The guttering grave where once a future lay.

[Rob Stuart]

For hours I have toiled to offer you,
Unbidden, this unpleasing and subfusc
Chain poem. Though the verse in it is blank,
Kept tight(ish) by a strict syllabic count,
The outcome is complete and utter tosh,
Hard-won at that, believe you me! How I
Industriously crafted all these lines
So they would scan at all! Try it yourself;
Few writers that I know would venture to
Occasion such a task. I can aver
Rewrite upon rewrite caused nausea
And many sleepless nights. The upshot’s all,
Lamentably, akin to excreta.
Alas, my talent does not stretch this far.
Reviewing what I’ve done it seems as if
Flaws constitute each word of this crap stuff!

[Nigel Mace]

Yes, Brian, I did kno - as eny fool etc. - but also made sure the last line ended with the opening letter so completing what John neatly calls my 'circular thingy'. I also tried with my first effort to continue the conceit within the title's words but, frustratingly, couldn't manage one - at least with any sense - that positioned the first and last letters as the first and last of the title. (They're stuck in the middle.) I did try with the second but wit/ingenuity failed me completely, so I settled for allusion.

Still, I suspect we are all making vehicles too elaborate for the original notion.

Having said that, Rob, your splendid closing shambles could end....

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxThe upshot is,
Lamentably, akin to excreta,
And since my talent will not stretch this far
Reviewing these lines takes me quite aback,
Knocking the copy that they’ve made for you.

[Rob Stuart]

It could, Nigel, but then it's less tricksy because it doesn't do your circular thingy!

[Rob Stuart]

It says a lot, doesn't it, that we're all voluntarily introducing complications in order to make the exercise interesting...

[Peter Goulding]

Originally Posted by Rob Stuart

It says a lot, doesn't it, that we're all voluntarily introducing complications in order to make the exercise interesting...

Not me Rob. Tricky enough as it is. I expect someone will end up doing it in Latin with every line a palindrome.

Morbidly, I feel the urge to scream
my name, so those around me have no doubt
that I exist and am not but a dream.

My youth is but a haze-clothed quinquereme
emerging through the mists with mocking shout
to taunt me. Now I feel the urge to scream.

Middle-age has floated down the stream,
meandering like some lost gadabout
to half-exist in someone else’s dream.

My sense of smell is growing more extreme –
every time I twitch this ugly snout,
the stench of death provokes the urge to scream.

Mutiny! Swashbuckling hopes now seem
mere droplets from a broken waterspout.
Trapped, this corpse still feels the urge to scream
my rage that I am now too old to dream.