154 new of 178 responses total.
(As usual, orinoco's offering amazed me. :)
I agree with Erinn, Julie; that was cool. I think your game has done much for you: someone makes a list of odd imagery, and you are going to excellent creative lengths to make them part of a cohesive work.
I have worn words, calmly. But the ones you illustrate upon me spread like icy flames, then flood my ears. Welling up from within, I fumble with floating blue wishes that are ebullient suddenly, jettisoned by the force of your simple frustration. Clothed in biting consonants, each utterance can be beared only by the winged kisses of your pauses for breath. Please, let's not fight anymore.
Ooh, I like.... (New phrases?)
working on it.
black bread noontime sunshine long task cold ground vivid violet
(Those are so sensible I can hardly deal with them.)
uh... I'm not sure if he's being sarcastic or serious -- someone please translate for me so I can eithe rlaugh at him or tell him to sod off? [:
They are pretty straightforward pairs of words. I've probably used all of them before and not even realized it. I got half a poem....the other half is coming up in a day or two, unless someone beats me to it.
I didn't set out to pick obnoxiously difficult phrases like "heartfelt rudabaga." In fact, I just picked random phrases out of a book. If you don't like my approach to picking the new pairs, just remember: I don't care. <sunshiny smile> Since my phrases are so *easy* Dan, I expect nothing less than perfection from you. d=
(Ooh, I rather like "heartfelt rutabaga")
(Right, it's deliciously non-sensible.)
bah, humbug.
Actually, if I may quote from the rules: "The adjective must imaginatively describe the noun in a completely new way." So, technically, your method of picking phrases violates the rules, since you're picking phrases that are already in print. *sweet smile*
"All words are borrowed, and in use are returned." The english language has been around a long time, I'm sure all the "imaginative" phrases ahev already been used. So one might argue that this whole exercise, if bent ont hat purpose alone, would be a lesson in futility.
Actually, I can prove mathematically that there exist a large number of phrases which have never been used. But the portion of those which are two-word phrases is likely relatively small. All the same, there are 180,000 entries in my college dictionary. If a quarter of those are nouns and a quarter of those are adjectives, that leaves roughly about 2 billion adjective-noun phrases. That's an awful lot. Furthermore, I'm just tweakin' ya, I broke the rules myself (and I'll break 'em again, dangit ;} )
I am certain that "heartfelt rutabaga" has never been used before.
then by all means, include it in your next list o' phrases. consider it a gift from the font of all obnoxious phrases, Erinn. <giggle>
"obnoxious font" may also be on the list of never used, although perhaps it's on the list of seldom used. ;}
I like that one, too. IT could be used in a few ways -- an ode to your word processor, perhaps? (;
Jeez louise, you guys, would someone post a poem already. The stated list (with much thanks to Erinn)is as follows black bread noontime sunshine long task cold ground vivid violet I request (but do not require) that, due to the nature of the list, the poet use his or her imagination to try to make these phrases seem (pardon me, Erinn) less cliche. PS. I don't mind rule breakers. This thing is supposed to be for fun not argument. The whole point is to have fun. It would be nice if folks would stick close to the rules, but no one, particularly not me, cares whether or not it actually happens. Thanks, guys.
The best way to respond to broken rules is with broken rules... >=} The traffic stopped cold, ground to a halt at noontime, sunshine -- too bright, too vivid -- violet shadows and glint of steel and asphalt black: bread crumbs lost from lines too long, task-oriented drones jammed up in the traffic, stopped. There we go... =} juvenile serendipity coarse statue mindless kettle red insurgency happy glass
Oh sing me a song of red insurgency,
And I won't be blue no more,
I'll just be a happy guy
Drinking from my happy glass.
Or sing me a song of juvenile serendipity,
From my aged perspective t'would be quite cheery,
Yes then I'll be a happy guy
Drinking from my happy glass.
Modern music, it's such a
Mindless kettle of cacaphony,
Modern sculpture too, with its preference for
Coarse statues over more finely chiseled efforts,
So take me away from all that
And sing me a song about any silly thing,
And I'll just be a happy guy
drinking from my happy glass.
-----
Next list:
crusty condominium
reviled lozenge
amorous truck
predestined horse
tender toilet
Aside: I rather like "juvenile serendipity". It appeals to me. :)
Ooooh Paul and John, WAY cool poetry. Paul, that was very good work and nice list. John, I liked your poem, it had rhythm. And your list made me laugh. I don't envy the person who decides to take on the challenge. I have feeling this item is going to become something of a personal contest between the two of you. I hope not, but... Anyway, Good job everybody. Keep 'em comin'.
Thanks. I was just thinking about the fact that nobody's done anything yet with my list in #48.
Well, that one's something of a toughie. Maybne they're thinking. I'll ask Jon. Maybe *he* can come up with something. After all, I really don't want this to end up as duelling poets.
<suddenly sees brighn and remmers doing a litle jig to "Dueling Banjos">
<remmers hopes someone will get on with this game, someday>
My nose has become a crusty condominium, home to new tenants: a virus, a "bug." My throat is their wreck room, my ears ring with clamor as they move in their sofas, their TVs, their rugs. This reviled lozenge I suck on brings no relief; they just laugh as I pucker on its fake lemon taste. They burble, now humored, they jiggle with glee, "Our landlord is naive of our strength, how sweet." All alone this weekend, with only these foes and my tender toilet, whom I crouch beside, who listens and understands when I pray for surcease, for my pernicious residents to abandon their lease. From the window, I can see my Sonoma, amorous truck that calls to me. "Will you be alright, my lady?" it asks. White ride, you are my predestined horse, for we go to the doctor on Monday. --- serious drawls snug caffine rudimentary pecan plastic beansprouts vicious rubberband
10 points for "surcease" and "toilet" in the same stanza.
<remmers LOL at #55. splendid, splendid!>
resp:55 pure genius.. too bad my creative juices are still a bit fried or otherwise diverted to other things..
<grin> I didn't think it was all that good... Are my phrases weird enough for you rowdy lot or do I have to break out some "heartfelt rudabagas" to appease you?
They are sufficiently weird, I think.
(just as a sidenote: I saw the phrases "snug caffine" and "serious drawls" on a flyer for a retro consignment shop in Tallahassee. The oddity of those phrases has always nagged at me; they were plopped on the side of the flyer, seeingly without reason. so I thought it would be appropriate to use them here. if nothing, someone can give me some better insight into how one would use such combinations in a sensical fashion.)
Just to refresh your memories... serious drawls snug caffine rudimentary pecan plastic beansprouts vicious rubberband
Take me to the midnight cafe, where the goths skulk and speak in serious drawls over their cups of snug caffiene. I escaped once: A vicious rubberband has pulled me back to their den. In my mind, hippies choke on plastic beansprouts, lovers devour momentary cyclones, and the rudimentary pecan fights to free from the freeze Take me to the midnight cafe And let me skulk amongst the goths.
Intermediate symbiosis Dry foil Hypochondriac nemesis Green sturgeon Hot ice
I am the newest superhero in a stage of intermediate symbiosis with a plant-like creature that gives me renewed strength in chlorophyllic photosynthesis. My sidekick is a green sturgeon that morphs into a dry foil to battle my evil foe, a hypochondriac nemesis who threatens the life of all bacteria everywhere with hot ice, insanely vowing to disinfect the earth no matter the cost. (insanely stupid, but hey.. my creativity has suffered under pressure) fragrant buttcrack exploding barrel detachable lips quiet cacophony fiery belch
<lol> eeeew! those phrases are icky!
I was so brain-tired at the time that being crass seemed to be an appropriately crabby and bellicose response. I am *so* frustrated.. school has been so stressful that my creativity has just been really hampered. So I figured, heh, let them play with that gross crap. Sorry-- don't take it too personally. I must be burning the candle at 5 ends. (Extra wicks, y'know?)
I'm *still* brain-tired.
Returning to Chicago once more sleep-addled and stunned by catch-that-early-train 5 am waking and ready to be pulled brightly out into the sunlight of bright lights, big city, ready to feel at home under that skyline, but first... ...the quiet cacaphony of freight line and steelmill set in. Gary, Indiana, fragrant buttcrack of Lake Michigan, rattler of chains, spewer of fumes, awaits. Not an elegant skyline to be seen, but the contour of smokestacks pulls the eye uupwards to the morning sun. Not a hint of gloss, but the dull gleam of rust and the burnished glow of the lake. Not a human soul at hand, but pigeons feast, flatbed trucks convene and converse and the exploding barrels of gas-carrying train cars wallow like grim rhinoceroses along the shore. Not even a touch of familiarity or grace, and never a brick in sight that feels like home -- but I love it. I love the architectural culture shock, the pollution which swears casually, coolly, like James Dean lighting another cigarette. I love the firey belch of oil-burning smokestacks. I love the view as we pass by, and in the haze the entire city seems to be blowing a smoke ring, exhaling a detatchable pair of lips which drift skyward with all the cool and class in the world.
VERY cool.
Woops, forgot my words.... Sky clippings Missing knot Velvet sandwich Singular forceps One eye
resp:69 Gary, Indiana is the fragrant buttcrack of Lake Michigan? Okaaay, I wouldn't know. That was the only phrase, I suppose, that was too crude to be handled more delicately than that.
it's sort of along the same lines as New Jersey being the armpit of the U.S.
I've been to Gary, Indiana. and it truely is the fragrant buttcrack of the US.
Right. I've been forced to go *through* Gary to get from Ann Arbor to Chicago, but have always assiduously avoided stopping there, because of what Gary is.
(This poem went beyond what I'd expected it to be when I sat down to write it -- there's actually a work in progress revolving around this, but I'm posting a fractured version of it in order to get on with the game.) Sky clippings spike violently down; weighted, frustrated, anger within static. Velvet sandwich of cumulonimbus pressing down from the firmanent, voluminous. A missing knot, a heated blade -- the sky is unclasped, gravid and decending. Ocean scoured shore voltage-heavy -- singular forceps of a bolt hot and quick cut the air with a shriek, sheer the limb off a tree. A cyclone reaches out, over the water, One eye in the midst of a watery face. A cyclops with invisible hands and wings Lifts a black-haired woman into the sky. --- nervous dragon prowling snows spectral birds gutted heavens smokey aspens
(Are you guys tired of the game?)
r nah, just underinspired :)
<sad little girl face> aw. what, not enough rudabagas in my phrases?
Yeah, that must be it ;)
I haven't had the creative juices for poetry lately..
oh, that's right, just blame the fw. d=
I wasn't blaming you, Erinn dear, I was blaming myself.
no need for such self deprication. (;
true, but I have felt burnt out in this context for quite a while.
ok, you guys, it's february and not a poem in sight. for the benefit of everyone, I"m going to post THREE lists. pick the one you like and *write something* for gods sakes. #1 (the original; which I don't expect anyone to use, honestly.) nervous dragon prowling snows spectral birds gutted heavens smokey aspens #2 gregarious spider courageous vegitation tempestuous thread obvious meridian melodious oblivion #3 racked roses purple Fiji gum-backed stamps folded fortune prodigious apple
The nervous dragon of my mind slithers through the smokey aspens of schoolwork trying to avoid the prowling snows that are the language of memory She tiptoes on five-fingered-feet gazing longingly at the gutted heavens where once she danced for an audience of spectral birds new phrases: singing shoes galumphing books unlovely art purple M&Ms roaring uvula mind remover
(ooh...."mind remover" is a good one....)
<curtsey> thank you, kind sir.
I once had singing shoes and dancing hands: My mind, it flew across the shifting sands... The fantasies were no unlovely art To drag me down and weigh upon my heart But the roaring uvula which condescends Upon the land of make-believe-pretends Struck out with heady science, tsk-tsk looks, Disapproving frowns, gallumphing books... And now I'm not a dreamer, I'm a prover (I think I shall soon need a mind remover) [There were six on the list, so I used the five that worked bast.] Narcotic inconveniences Genuine misanthropy Slow chiffon Eccliastical Jeffersonian Bad brick
(applause)
Ecclesiastical (I assume that's what you meant to type) Jeffersonian is killer. The rest of those are actually kind of evocative.
Quite right, I didn't think my spelling looked right. And oh, come on, I could fold that it and even make it make sense.don't make me respond to my own phraselist. ;}
Julie, could you please clarify: your rules state, "Each player comes up with 5-8 pairs of words." Rebecca's list was 6 pairs, and Brighn elected to use only 5 of those 6 pairs. Is that allowable? (Not that I'm going to suggest that we throw out his poem if it isn't, I just wanted to be clear on that point.)
Hm. Everybody had been using 5, I thought that was the number. *shrug* I don't care. For that matter, I don't care if people ignore my list and go on with a different one. It's just a distraction anyway.
Julie has not been here for ages. I don't think she would declare herself a rules lawyer in this case, and would likely respond that folks should do whatever strikes them. (I'm sure the number she picked was arbitrary.)
"Malaclypse the Younger" I look out with genuine misanthropy On all those gathered to hear him speak They bicker and fight over semantics and degrees This mangled hodge-podge of humanity "He always turns up, whether you invite him or not. Might as well give the bad penny a place on the program." "More like a bad brick. I always stub my toes On his crackpot religion." The ecclesiastical Jeffersonian makes his way Through slow chiffon clouds of narcotic inconveniences Kissing hands and shaking babies And begins, at last, to speak of Eris **There. It's not the best I've ever written, in fact it sucks, but it's something. New phrases: airy tripod venomous cavern voodoo bunny spinning contrariwise waxen mob have fun!
hey now, I liked it. At least it wasn't cotton candy. *ducks*
No, it's flax.
Actually, I rather liked it. 'Course, I think what I liked was the reference, but hey. "Kissing hands and shaking babies" is cool. :
God sees all,
His celestial camera mounted
Atop its airy tripod.
There is no escape from
His waxen mob of angels,
Though many poor souls,
Spinning contrariwise
To the mighty vortex of His Word,
Invoking some pallid voodoo bunny
Or other impotent pagan creature
Have tried...
...Only to be consigned forever
To that venomous cavern
Known as Hell.
(Geez, did I really write that? Just call me "Ecclesiastical
Remmersonian".)
New phrases:
angry shrimp
nervous squirrel
tinted ocelot
custom loon
hyper vole
(technical difficulties, john? (; )
(Typos and omissions noticed after the fact. Finally got it right, I think. Third time's the charm.)
(wow, remmer, scary stuff. Ack! Twisting a nice pagan girl's words like that! :) Good job.)
Thanks, Rebecca.
Lest everyone forget -- the new phrases, in alphabetical order
by animal, are:
custom loon
tinted ocelot
angry shrimp
nervous squirrel
hyper vole
(No takers yet. And I thought it'd be easy.)
View from the Student Union Steps It's fun to watch them all, sometimes: The thin young man in black With improbably coloured hair Who struts by like some tinted ocelot; The anthropology professor discoursing Loudly on the habits of the Scottish crofters Who makes of himself a custom loon As he gets more and more fervent; Over there is an angry shrimp of A girl whose curly red hair Flies as she shouts at a Student of some obscure topic Like ethnomusicology Who makes himself so small He looks like a hyper vole As he argues back. Beside all that, the antics Of the nervous squirrel Who comes down out of the trees Is nothing. Let's see... Words... I dunno, give me a bit, I'm dealing with stuff.
(Nice!)
Okay, words: tasty fairies insignificant words mystical nailpolish darksome moon blinding books
Rats, missed my chance. I really was hoping to turn "hyper vole" into a pun for "hyperbole," and it just _wasn't_ happening. Maybe for the better, actually ;)
Yes but now you have a chance to do something with "tasty fairies" that will make Arianna giggle.
Tempting....tempting....
Man, I thought that was a good set of words... Especially "tasty fairies"... Just for the record, the words, once again, are: Tasty fairies insignificant words mystical nailpolish darksome moon blinding books won't somebody PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEz come play with me?
Build me more blinding books, o my soul!
As antidote for darksome moon they have no peer.
The heaps of insignificant words will take their toll,
Unless blotted out by some siren's mystical nailpolish, I fear.
As for tasty fairies, the less said the better.
(Well, that kind of sucks, but what do you expect for a 2-minute
"poem"?)
Einstein's lozenge
lounge vipers
vorpal cushion
flashing tomb
old youth
(what is with you and lozenges?)
(I have no idea. Words stick in my head sometimes for no good reason.)
The lounge vipers hiss and slither Eye their prey seductively From the safety of their vorpal cushions Their sallow skin decays Of old youth which speaks of Dorian Their gold chains reflect The flashing tomb of midlife If their fangs sink into nubile flesh WIll they become nubile then? Their time has past: Even Eintstein's lozenge of relativity Is moot against the bitter cough of redundancy ---- tomorrow's memories blazing coffee invisible pride genuine speechlessness semiotic petulance ..
i think i wlatzed through yesterday's future. and as i stared and watched tomorrow's memories fade, i often ask myself if there wasn't enough time misspent. i used to hang out in the run down hangouts with they gang. with the highway robbery prices and the blazing coffe, and the endless supply of cigarettes in my pocket. i was full of an invisible pride in which i thought i was holy. but as time went on, i got cut up, beat up and passed on, like some old newspaper you read two days ago and threw out. i would wonder, and still do if life is too fast. are we moving around in circled with nothing to do anymore. no more original work. no more inventions to change humanity. in my genuine speechlessness, i have a word to be spoken. no one listens, and my semiotic petulance greatens, i am annoyed. listen, do you hear that? it's life calling. don't waltz through it. ----- overwhelming anxiety attributed forbiddance overpowering kinmanship hateful guidance stricken remorse
<applause>
another juliette She pauses in overwhelming anxiety. She must escape the hateful guidance Which attributed forbiddance Of her desire to the Almighty. That overpowering kinsmanship Will fall by her hand, when what She does here tonight is seen. The phial, the dagger, the cliff, The river, it does not matter which. Now she acts, her only regret is That she will not see their stricken remorse. (I really wanted to write this as a sonnet, but I'm very bad at sonnets.) (Oh, and I'm not complaining, Ignatz, but people have gotten trashed in here before for making their phrases "too trite." Just a warning that somebody may fuss at you for using phrases that have ever been used anywhere before.) new phrases: universal putty celestial balderdash inherent queen impertinant antique zodiacal laughter
trite? what the fuck does trite mean? too common placed? well, shit, i'm sorry. but seeming that i've been posting on a regular basis in which most people have not been , then yes, i need bo be "trite." i write on a whim, i don't sit and think about what i write and make sure it comes out perfect and abstract with words people need to look up. i do it all off the top of my head. and i really don't care if it's trite. i like trite!!! it's almost as good as "treat" (the spam substitute) i figured since i was new at picking out words to put together, i would make them kinda easy at first... not shit i got to look up meanings first. i might as well apologize to the whole damn conference, "i'm sorry everyone, i'm trite, and i like it."
To quote from #0 (the rules): "the adjective must imaginatively describe the noun in a completely new way." So, temper tantrums and jabs aside, the phrases in this item are not supposed to be commonplace. What you post elsewhere, and whether you make commonplace poems out of the phrases, is up to you.
dude, man, don't get mad at me. *I* was trying to warn you that people might get on your case. Don't shoot the messenger. why get so upset, anyway?
Yeah, get mad at me. =} I'm the one Rebecca was warning you about. Then again, I'm the one your mother always warned you about, too. >=}
I outta get you a shirt with that slogan printed on it, brighn. (; don't sweat it, ignatz. I'm the fair-witness and *I* got chewed out for chosing cliche combinations, too. [: read responses 22 - 42. it'll make you feel better, and should give you a little more perspective on the personalities that coexist in this conference.
(er, try 22-47, rather.)
hey, I liked 47. ;} One of my smarmier pieces.
in fact.
The Spam-ku archive The indisputable, inherent queen of ersatz food, Its putty-like consistency transmogrified into the universal putty of the written word, pours forth with glee celestial balderdash through wonderfully impertinent antique poetic forms, and cycles the zodiacal laughter, tears, and general silliness that flesh is heir to. new list indefatigable bullshit ersatz inspiration (I love the word ersatz) eponymous deity hallowed meretrix agglutinative personality
Avoiding the agglutinative personality of the crowd, I sidle along a back street Seeking the erzatz inspiration of some eponymous deity. Half blinded by the tearing rain I notice a whore, drenched in the sudden downpour Like a sort of ragged Virgin Mary huddled in a doorway Watching this hallowed meretrix, I feel the muse's prick And hurry home to write, the words tummbling from my pen When I read what has been written, I wonder that such indefatitigable bullshit Should ever have come from me. *********************** Julie's back. Been really busy with other things. I want to reestablish the rules here, though as I said before they are only cast in clay, not stone. There are to be 5 to 8 pairs of words. Poets are supposed to use ALL the offered combinations and the poems are only supposed to be 5 to 16 lines in length. Like I've said before I'm not picky but... Please try to stay close to the rules. Otherwise, what's the point? ************************ New Word List 1. capable incompetant 2. blank musings 3. indifferent similarities 4. royal nobodies 5. sad joy 6. aluminum frustration
by the way, I actually had to look some of those last words up before I could use any of them. It definitely made for interesting poetry. ~Julie Pratt
sahib? sahib! Paradox is the world I teach you today, sahib. It is a glorious kingdom where royal nobodies sit upon thrones of aluminum frustration, and their sages are court fools babbling blank musings. Troubadours and common gleeman alike sing songs of sad joy, and wealth and poverty line the streets, paved with golden and wooden coins from the east etched with a parable on their third sides speaking of indifferent similarities here.
Jon, you forgot to do a word list. LOL
"Watching this hallowed meretrix, I feel the muse's prick" haha, excellent. Was the pun intentional?
Depends, I didn't know there was a pun. Oh wait. I think I see it. No, it was completely unintentional. Suppose I should've seen that coming and written "muse's touch" instead. lol
Word list, please!
re 137, "muse's touch": Absolutely not! "muse's prick" is essential, especially in such close proximity to "meretrix". :)
yes. It would be unwise to break a near rhyme that happens to have a witty interpretation by a certain colloquialism. Oh, beg your pardon, John, sorry.. it is my turn. Here we are, as follows: rich beggar fragrant stench delicious dogma skillful quack thoughtful ignorance coordinated chaos joyous damnation stereophonic soliloquy
This response has been erased.
It was not coincidence: It was the delicious dogma of the skillful quack that one rich kid was bad enough, but twins? Too much. So one was squirreled away (In the coordinated chaos of the birthing room) To the fragrant stench of the London streets, The joyous damnation of living among the common people nd raised in the love born of thoughtful ignorance. And yet, as the boys grew, their misery at their fates Rose above the streets of London -- From Buckingham Palace to the Back Alleys -- From the impoverished prince and the rich beggar -- A stereophonic soliloquy of "Woe is me!" (From the back story of "The Prince and the Pauper" ;} ) [Scribbled and reposted, I forgot one.]
devout heretic spurious capnomancy effluvial quinine retrofitted pyrene treacle-flavored disintegration retired wife gelatinous ceramic There you go. Some everyday phrases for y'all to play with.
oh my. I might need to look those ones up too, just to know what they mean when they are used in verse.
Is somebody going to post or are we waiting while everyone looks up brighn's wordlist.
I killed it. ={
I may give it a try tonight, if I feel up to it.
Not terribly good, but fun to write...
Sitting at the coffee house, watching his pipe make dragons
I practice my spurious capnomancy and spin stories about them
Stealing bits of wisdom from maidens who then buy them back
With gems.
The jacket talks about gin and tonic and again I smell the effluvial quinine
Of British officers in India, and think of the treacle-flavored disintegration
Of the Empire on which the sun never set. Until it did.
Grasshoppers lead one to another and I babble about tales of handmaids
And retired wives.
I am a devout heretic when it comes to their conversational patterns.
They follow me nonetheless.
Later I may talk about the woman who was frightened by ghosts
That turned her kylix into gelatinous ceramic
Or try to hard to bridge a gap between cyberpunk and folk song
By talking about yours trulyUs retrofitted pyrene.
Why do they let me?
(Words to follow)
{I swear Brighn picks his words the same way Lofting's good doctor picked
places to go}
New Words!! damasked footlights firey horns corked heron mirroring rosethorn indefinite bird falling's sound Anyone get my references in that poem to popular novels? (just curious) And, in reference to the poemin #132 (with "the muse's prick," are y'all aware that, in addition to the Nine Muses, the Greeks had a tenth, male, muse? Museo, the Muse-Man.
Who is Lofting's good doctor, and how did he pick places to go? I'm impressed, by the way. Only the last one -- retrofitted pyrene -- sounded really forced. The rest worked their way in fairly well, considering my Sadistic choices.
resp:149 Not that I'm aware of and I like to tell Greek myths for fun. What's your source?
To brighn: Nope, I'm gonna be stubborn, and make you look it up. To morwen: I've forgotten the source now, it was in something about Hecate, who was his mother. The reference seemed to be very obscure, and he wasn't very MUCH recognized.
Oops, meant to say that yeah, I know that was a bit forced, which is why I put in the bit about trying too hard. It's much funnier if you actually get my reference, but of course I was being purposely obscure last night.
Hmmmm... my resident Hellenic Reconstructionism contact is unaware of Hekate having children. Musaeus was not a Muse, but was connected to Them and to the Oracles (being the son of Selene and, perhaps, Orpheus). Apollo (also connected to Oracles) had Musagates [leader of the Muses] as an eponym. He's unaware of anyone called Museo (which is actually the Italian word for "museum," not surprisingly). But, Greek mythology spans a long time. It sounds spurious, but I can't disprove it without sources.
>Hekate in particular gets very confusing when you try to pin her down to >anything. According to one of my books, a fragment of Akousilaos lists Skylla >(a monster, usually paired with CHarybdis) as having been Hekate's offspring >by Phorkys (minor sea god, father of the Gorgons). I can't figure out where >I found that reference to Museo, and it may well have been incorrect. I >merely tossed it out as an item of interest. >Hekate is not often listed as having children, perhaps because she was seen >throughout the Classical period as a maiden goddess, very young. The >transformation into a crone doesn't appear to happen until the late Roman >period, and then seems to have been mainly a literary thing, unconnected with >her worship.
And the Maid, Mother, Crone aspect of Hekate appears to be a Wiccan thing, probably caused by a misunderstanding of three-faced Hekate statues (where all the faces are the same age).
This is a fun conversation, but leave us not forget the subject. Here is the latest wordlist restated: damasked footlights firey horns corked heron mirroring rosethorn indefinite bird falling's sound
The entire concept of maiden-mother-crone goddesses is modern, although it did not originate with Wiccans, we just picked it up. I'll dig up the source for that later. NO triple goddess is maiden-mother-crone. They're all the same age. Hekate was considered to be three-formed (Hecate Triformis is one of her Latin epithets), but all three of her were maidens. Errr, sorry. I'll shut up and let the item get back to its regularly scheduled mayhem now.
(The maid-mother-crone dynamic came from the Christians, but I don't tell a lot of Wiccans that, it tends to annoy them. ;} )
What's your source for that? Because my sources said it came from mythologists and anthropologists. I forgot to get the book back from the person to whom I loaned it, but I'll try to remember today.
Most fin de seicle anthropologists and mythologists were raised in a Christian society. My source? Simple observation. The relationship between the Lord and the Lady is a mirror image of the relationship between Mary and the tri-partite God (maid-son, mother-father, crone-spirit). Unless there's independent evidence for the evolution of the maid-mother-crone, I see no reason not to take the simplest explanation. If we want to keep this thread up, might I suggest we move it to a new item, and preferably to Synthesis?
I second the motion. in fact, I insist on it.
Here's the latest word list again: damasked footlights firey horns corked heron mirroring rosethorn indefinite bird falling's sound
Hmm, an idea...
Okay, here goes. Hamlet's Corpse I can't believe that Mr. Darden gave Ophelia to her, Anorexic old Maria Sykes. Listen to her, Gargling the famous lines in front of glass-eyed parents, Preening in the damasked footlights like some aging beauty Past her mediocre prime. A Straw-blonde ingenue, Stuffed in a leading lady's role like kleenex in a Pre-pubescent freshman's bra, unconvincing and ridiculous. Her lover, lanky Hamlet, played by glue-tongued Harry Dent, awkward as a corked heron stumbling after her, answering her mangled cadences with bungled lines, strained pauses, barely hidden glances Towards me, hidden here behind the monstrous setpiece, Freakish plywood cutout hastily painted to resemble Some surrealist rendering of three indefinite birds The size of basketballs, rakishly perched askance The rusted ledge of this implausible old urinal they found somewhere. Mr. Darden said he got it As a favor from the scary metal shop teacher When he finally gave up going over lines with Harry and Maria. How they laughed, those jackasses, and how I burned with shame, When he handed me the cue cards and showed me to my post. Some overzealous wit had thought to fill the rusty trough; Hypnotic tiny splashes from each drop falling's sound, Counterpoint more tuneful than the fiery horns and squealing bows. Puddles dance with the jouncing of the foot-slapped stage, Mirroring rosethorn elbows and baggy hose on rapier knees. Mechanically I flip the cards, cannot bear to watch As Harry jabs his tinfoiled car antenna at whatever jerk They got to play Laertes. Gratefully the last card falls, And I unclench my aching knees, eager not to bear the stale applause, As one more high-school mutilation of the Bard draws to its close.
you didn't do a new list!
Sorry. Let's see. evanescent conifer silly hierophant plaintive growl lifelike patina turgid sleeves
That was a little long, Flem. Good tho.
Oops, I forgot the length restriction. Not that I woudl have payed attention to it, anyway; I'm only barely comfortable stretching poems far enough to fit in a required word list. Restricting the length artificially I don't think I would be cool with.
Like I said, I'm not a bear when it comes to the rules. All I want is at least a brief nod before utterly breaking them, so that I know you are aware there is a rule there. :) Proceed.
With a plantive growl of, "You do not like my gorgeous new robes?" he spun full circle as if to flourish turgid sleeves and billowing brocade perhaps etched with a lifelike patina of embroidered deer and hounds. Instead, stark naked, a silly hirophant of an unknown kingdom stood before a dumbstruck crowd, suddenly wishing for darkness and the evanecent conifer anonymity of a virgin wilderness. --- Two lists, because I'd like to revive this game, take your pick: culinary assart edible collusion culpable platitude unsatisfied zealot superlative interment gregarious spider courageous vegitation tempestuous thread obvious meridian melodious oblivion
Oh mighty Amazon Dot Com, Thee who have given vent to my impatient wallet - Oh omnipresent United Parcel Service, Thee who drop each overflowing, pregnant sack Upon my doorstep - Cacophanous emotion fills me as I pore over Each precious bound volume, DVD, software package! Happiness stampedes me Like noisy pink herds of joyous flamingoes! Alone, I shout my ecstacy to the Unhearing, careless wallpaper. Was there a time, long past, without One-Click? If so, I can recall it poorly, dimly, As a distant galaxy viewed Through a warped telescope.
(I know, I know - I used the original list in #0, not arianna's lists. A sudden wash of inspiration flowed over me, and I had no choice.)
*laugh* *applause* ok...well... any takers on my lists? (:
I'll try one on. "Come," said the gregarious spider to the fly, "Come into my humble abode and dine with me." "Ah, you are most kind, spider sir," said the fly, "But I would not brave this web of temptestous thread. I would soon seek solace in the courageous vegetation That thrives despite the arid conditions. Your web, though of obvious meridian to you, Is far too filled with danger for me." So on buzzed the fly, so sure he was safe, Did not realize in his melodious oblivion, That the sweet-smelling plants were of carnivorous type And soon he languished in the jaws of one.
heehee! ok.. new list?
what about the other one you put up?
hey, if you wanna propose a new one, that's fine, too.
You have several choices: