Originally posted by PeachyWhat a load of Horlicks!
The hunter waits patiently in the hot woods and hours go by until the prey is caught in the trap. The hunter doesn't notice at first but the animal's cry of pain through the forest's silence grabs the hunter's attention.
The hunter looks at the animal and seems to get the impression that the animal is wondering in shock as how it slipped out of concentrat ...[text shortened]... for its death as it uttered these cries and made this sorry situation known to the hunter.
Originally posted by PeachyForget what Bowmann says. This is GOOD STUFF!!!
The hunter waits patiently in the hot woods and hours go by until the prey is caught in the trap. The hunter doesn't notice at first but the animal's cry of pain through the forest's silence grabs the hunter's attention.
The hunter looks at the animal and seems to get the impression that the animal is wondering in shock as how it slipped out of concentrat ...[text shortened]... nter.
Myxomatosis; is when the Zionists blame the Palestinians for the rabbit's death.
:-)
Originally posted by BowmannThe meaning in a poem is difficult enough, Bowmann, w/o you misspelling the words of the poem!
Try this one, then. It's a doddle:
[b]Dry-Point
Endlessly, time-honoured irritant,
A bubble is restively forming at your tip.
Burst it as fast as we can -
It will grow again, until we begin dying.
Silently it inflates, till we're enclosed
And forced to start the struggle to get out:
Bestial, intent, real.
The wet spark comes, the bright ...[text shortened]... nor prove,
Where you, we dream, obtain no right of entry.
Philip Larkin, 1950
😉[/b]
"time-honoured" Is this a legal spelling?
"scapes"? NO SUCH WORD!
"sunscrubbed"? another misspelled word.
With all your mistakes, maybe "the bright blown walls" was supposed to be "the bright crown halls"!???
I'm surprized Nordlys hasn't been all over you!
Originally posted by arrakisIt's probably Larkin's spelling, not Bowmann's.
The meaning in a poem is difficult enough, Bowmann, w/o you misspelling the words of the poem!
"time-honoured" Is this a legal spelling?
Yes. How would you spell it?
"scapes"? NO SUCH WORD!
http://www.thefreedictionary.com/dict.asp?Word=scape
"sunscrubbed"? another misspelled word
I couldn't find that one in the dictionary. So, what does it mean, and how would you spell it?
I'm surprized Nordlys hasn't been all over you!
surprised
Entries will be posted tomorrow. However, in order to inspire poets from the far corners of RHP, I have prepared an opening ceremony. In my random historical meanderings, I happened upon an inspiring ballad which shall serve as an Olympic torch in this competition.
Here is 'A Celestial Bruckllad', which I found written in sheep's blood on the hide of an especially long wolf during my travels in Lapland. Often erroneously attributed to Chaucer, it is in fact the work of 14th-century troubadours Brucktoplasme and Bytchtarred. Among ballads addressing the subject of the End Times, it is distinguished by its many plot twists, great length, and, most significantly, its references to popular culture of the then-distant future. There is great debate in the brucktographical community over this point -- some take this as evidence of the minstrels' prophetic abilities and infer that the events of the Bruckllad are either history or possibly actual prophecy.
Finally, the nationality of Brucktoplasme and Bytchtarred remains a mystery. While much of the Bruckllad is written in essentially modern English, the syllable 'bruck' makes regular appearances. It is thought to be derived from the Hrothgarian word Brruuk, which refers to the annual Hrothgarian tradition of invading Poland.
Without further ado:
The Merry Knight went riding forth,
his bruckplate luminescent gold.
A brucktacle of boundless worth
he silenced all who would behold.
On brucking bronco, white as snow,
with bruckleaxe and brucklass drawn,
he rode to meet a bruckless foe
at the hour of the bruck of dawn.
Gallantry coursed through him -- lowly
veins conbruckt mere bruckish plasma.
Bruckhearted men, he slew them -- slowly
rode he through pre-dawn miasma...
And when his foes were truly brucked
he turned and rode his horse, Bruckcephalus
(so named for it's enormous head)
to get a massive plate of Charlotte-Russe
But when he ventured near the town
where oft he'd brucked the night away
he saw a plume of smoke arising
and knew he'd got no plate today
He spurred Bruckcephalus ahead
towards the canopy of smoke
bruckdits had attacked the town!
the poor farmers, brucksmiths; simple folk.
Your standard bruckdits -- not this horde!
They brucked, that blameless blood might spill,
spurred on by the bruckle-sword
of the bruckless Starrlet Pirpernel.
Lo! The swashbruckling villain rode
astride a mighty, mangy steed.
The bruck ran red, the fires glowed
with his each new and nasty deed.
Our Merry Knight of yore did ride
forthwith to meet the Pirpernel,
though the threat had brucktiplied --
with each new brugly bruckdit's yell.
Our hero drew his brucklass out
and raised it on high, o'er his helm of iron
and fixed the Pirpernel a gaze,
then spurred mighty Bruckcephalus on
He slashed down bruckdits, left and right;
his vorpal blade went brucker brack,
and cleaved a path with bruckish might,
till there were no more left to hack
And there stood the Starrlet Pirpernel
adorned in armour of bruckished gold,
his eyes burned like Beelzebruck,
but deep inside his heart was cold.
The bruckish combatants stood still,
poised for a brucktal bloody feud
when hark! A voice: "Thou shalt not kill--
brucktality is very rude!"
The voice belonged to Friar Bruck,
a Bruckther of the local church,
who spent his solemn evenings stuck
in very Brucklical research.
"Fight not with bruckle-sword and shield,
for brucketfuls of tears they bring.
The mighty pen is best to wield
when you in brucktography sing."
Saith Merry Knight to Pirpernel:
"Let's slay this Bruckblethumping Brother!"
Said Starrlet to the Knight: "Pray tell,
after, shall we slay each other?"
The face of Friar Bruck didst pale
as from each other dids't they disengage
he had not even time to wail
as they brucked him to death in a fearful rage
when Friar bruck lay limp and bloody
and the knights were free from further distraction
they said "en garde!" a second time
or "'n'gar" if you prefer to use a contraction
But unbrucknownst to our combruckants
God looked down from up on high
now would'st their terrible deed be punished
Bruckticide makes baby Jesus cry
He sent the angel Bruckiel
to wreak a divinely bruckible fate
on those that choose to take up bricks
and make timely Friars to Friars-late.
With bruckvery, the knights commenced
to slash and parry, chop and hack.
Bruckhold! The Pirpernel then sensed
bruckding light behind his foeman's back.
The angel Bruckiel was here,
with many a Cherubruck minion.
The Pirpernel shrank bruck in fear
of God's great statement of opinion.
His bruck still turned, the Merry Knight
took Starrlet's bruckified stare to mean
that he'd grown weary of the fight
and thus paused to survey the scene.
Bruckiel spoke a brucklliant word
befitting his angelic race,
but to the Merry Knight it went unheard;
he sneered at Starrlet's dumbbruck face.
The Merry Knight, he brucknorant was
of that which now went on behind
and seized his chance to lunge the pirp
to disembruck for peace of mind
But what is this?
A violent hiss
makes knight to miss
with steely kiss
the ground gave way and down they fell, into the endless, bleak abyss
For days they fell and bruckled on
till weary they were forced to cease
with troubrucked dreams they fell asleep
and fell, whilst sleeping, yearning peace
They landed with a mighty bruck
upon Beelzebruck's dinner table
and seated there with knife and fork
was the bruckstone lord and his girlfriend; Sable
The Bruckvil One, he spoke at last:
"We're charged now with the bruckious chore
of using you to bruck our fast.
We'll eat your souls* forevermore!"
A noise's swell
did then compel
Old Scratch to yell.
His tones foretell
the news that something is amiss; a beast has breach'd the gates of Hell!
Riderless, with reins unbruckled,
charged brucktish great Bruckcephalus.
The Merry Knight bruckffawed and chuckled:
the horse came bearing Charlotte-Russe.
Said Satan: "Gluttony's a sin!"
Said Sable: "It's one of the worst!"
The Merry Knight: "It's Hell we're in;
eat souls, but eat your pudding first!"
*(If they don't play the best song in the world. -- Ed.)
The demon lord took pause for thought
The demonette gazed at the pudding
the knights were not in hesitation caught
and like the wind, began a running.
"Let's put aside our brucktal bent"
The Merry Knight to pirp did'st say,
"and post haste scarper out of here,
and be upon our Merry way"
The Starrlet nodded in collusion
not wishing to be a bruckvil feast
and both did hop upon Bruckephalus
the faithful dessert delivery beast
Out of the feast hall, into the cavern,
galloping fast like drunks to a tavern
onwards they rode to the brucktrance of hell!
Demons were chasing, gnashing their teeth
trying to drag them bruck underneath
Bruck, to where the damned do dwell...
But mighty Bruckephalus onward did ride
his master's heart was filled with pride!
They thought they'd escape the gates were in sight
when out stepped Bruckberus with three headed spite.
Starrlet then, to slay the great dog
called upon tormented shades
of bruckdits in the fiery bog
whom our hero's sword had sent to Hades!
The bruckdit souls were doomed to burn
in Hell for perpetuity.
Now added to this great concern
was moral ambruckuity.
To save their much-loved pirp, they knew
would aid their bruckless killer too!
And so ensued a great debate,
as Bruckberus brucked in 'wooves' of glee;
Bruckcephalus readied hooves to flee
and leave knight and pirp to their fate.
The Bruckdits bruck into the 'Save Starrlet Squad',
who supported brucking the hound,
while others assumed the brucklacious facade
of a Pack, with a brucktiful howling sound.
The pirp tried to bruck them round
and point out the bruckical inconsistency
of holding any moral ground
when they were in hell and demons, see?
Alas the bruckdits payed no heed
for death does not intelligence seed
So bruckdits fought amongst each other
though in their lives for each their brother
Starrlet sighed
Merry cried
Brucephalus shied
Bruckdits died
and there was bruckwhere left to hide
as Bruckberus took a forward stride
*(Where's my continental bride? The continental slip and slide. Early morning pinch and bite, these french girls always like to fight.)
"It's surely time for us to die!"
Sobbed Merry, feeling somewhat sick
But little known to the Merry Knight
The Starrlet-one had one more trick
He stretched his arm bruckhind his back
And fumbled in his priping pack
And brucked out something from his shirt
The fabled Geltenpimpenschwert!
*Had to add that, I've got it in my head now. - Ed
With stunning ease the Starrlet-one
debruckitated -- one, two, three!
the fearful beast. This being done
he raised the heads for all to see.
But 'all' refers to not a soul
for Starrlet had disembruck-ed
from Merry's horse with the goal
of seeing the bruckster struck dead.
Meanwhile, Merry saw his chance
to bruck free good and well,
and so compelled his mount to prance
over the gates of Hell.
Brucktrayal on an epic scale:
the Pirpernel left to his fate,
with no boat for the Styx to sail
or horse to jump over the gate.
"See ya!" cried the Merry knight
as Bruckcephalus sped away
"Wouldn't wanna be ya, enjoy your plight,
it's time to leave this fray"
"Brucktard!" wailed the Starrlet one
as Beelzebruck loomed into view
"Never will I forget this act,
you traitorous cur, you'll get your due!"
The Merry knight guffawed a bit
for surely he was now home free
the pirp would meet a bruckful end
as Beelzebruck's afternoon tea
The Starrlet Pirpernel stood fast
with brucklass drawn and pirp-stick raised
he'd make damn sure the demon lord
would find it hard to have him braised
Demon to right of him,
Demon to left of him,
Demon in front of him
Volley'd and brucker'd;
Ringing in his ears the deathly knell,
Bruckly strode the Pirpernel,
Into the jaws of Bruck,
Into the mouth of Hell
Bruck! He was bugger'd!
While Starrlet faced the Bruckvil One
Merry's rapid flight was halted
by clouds obstbruckting the bright sun,
from the Lord and Most Exalted.
God said "You've brucken all the rules!
Now I'll rip out all your puuuubruck haaaaair!
But I'm just and gladly suffer fools
so here's how you erred and where:
First, you once said 'Holy shit!'
and idolised yourself a bit!
You had no faith and some say
you jousted on a Sunday!
To your parents you're a liar;
the other day you brucked a friar!
You shagged a damsel in distress
and had the gall to steal her dress!
You lied in Hell about dessert
and coveted the Pimpenschwert!"
God would smite, beyond a doubt,
and seeing there was no escape,
the bold Knight took his brucklass out,
two fingers held in bruckphemous shape.
Cherubrucks swarmed left and right!
Archangels made haste to fight!
Azrael bruckt out a scythe!
Bruckiel laughed in tones most blithe!
The Merry Knight stood proud and tall
with armoured hands on armoured hips
and brucksted: "God, today you fall!
Today is the Abruckalypse!"
There is a world brucktween heav'n and hell
this goodly frame the earth
where upon mortal men do dwell
as king or lowly serf
it is a place where natural things
like deer and trees and rivers are
and not a place for brucklestial beings
nor demons, black as tar
so when the pirp and knight were seen
to retreat from foes they faced
they soon came bruck to bruck once more
on our purgatorial waste.
How many boards would the demons horde if the demon hordes got bored?
No chance today, they'd come for a fray, a ten thousand did now commune
And how many angels can dance on a pin-head, regardless of whether they're bored?
20 some say, parhaps, perhaps nay, it surely depends on the tune
The bruckgelic host, the great demon hordes
our two fated heroes, a collection of boards
the stage was now set for a bruckle fantastic
with god, the devil and man; how drastic!
In those bruckgone times of yore
it was the order of the day
to preface brucktal acts of war
with hearing minstrels play.
Though Bruckhallical in scale,
this bruckle would, no doubt
be prefaced with a tale
or a bruckdy singing bout.
A band of bruckstrels tune their lutes,
and pose there, nobly bad and proud.
The conbrucktor turns to them and hoots
to play it brucking loud.
They sang songs of pomp and glory,
of poorer men than me and licking
brucks of fear of death that's gory
and of wanton heinous bricking.
Then they played a queer song,
involving multitudes and loads
of notes that sounded near-wrong
and the Brucksolydian modes.
The song, it was a hymn of sorts
but it was not in praise of God.
It was secular, by all reports--
an atheist hymn -- very odd!