response 161 of 178:

Feb 15 17:11 UTC 2002

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?

response 163 of 178:

Feb 27 22:34 UTC 2002

Here's the latest word list again:

damasked footlights
firey horns
corked heron
mirroring rosethorn
indefinite bird
falling's sound

response 165 of 178:

Feb 28 00:47 UTC 2002

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. 

response 167 of 178:

Feb 28 16:13 UTC 2002

Sorry.  Let's see. 

evanescent conifer
silly hierophant
plaintive growl
lifelike patina 
turgid sleeves

response 169 of 178:

Mar 5 15:46 UTC 2002

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. 

response 171 of 178:

Jan 15 02:58 UTC 2004

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

response 173 of 178:

Jan 15 14:08 UTC 2004

(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.)

response 175 of 178:

Jan 16 08:02 UTC 2004

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.

response 177 of 178:

Jan 17 07:00 UTC 2004

what about the other one you put up?