Without attempting the meter, I'll just say that I watch songs from this version of Pirates of Penzance at least every couple weeks. You can start A Policeman's Lot at about 2:30 and catch some pretty spectacular leaps.
Hey, I saw that version in Central Park when I was a kid.
I don't know why you think that we should all start commenting in meter;
I'd sooner spend time facebooking or youtubing or something neater.
I doubt too many folks will want to play along, that's just my hunch,
In fact my stomach's telling me to end this rhyme, it's time for lunch.
Let's have a thread!
Jack up the Dow Jones!
Let's have a thread!
It can start in New Jersey!
Let's have a thread!
Blame it on the middle-class!
Let's have a thread!
We're like rats in a cage!
It already started in the city!
Suburbia will be just as easy!
Let's have a thread!
Sell the rights to the networks!
Let's have a thread!
Let our wallets get fat like last time!
Let's have a thread!
Give guns to the queers!
Let's have a thread!
The enemy's within!
It already started in the city!
Suburbia will be just as easy!
I did not know that Boogle Guzz was continuing to exist
I thought it was polite to pretend not to use it spyingly
Man, you got lucky, LB. That's good stuff.
That didn't work.
Gilbert & Sullivan cover.
I mourn for my lost recording of Folksbiene or someone doing the major general song and other stuff in Yiddish.
Dray kleyne meydlekh zenen mir...
It's clear to me the Times has got it in for Mr. Blumenthal;
A fair and balanced paper would not run this sort of stuff at all.
To say Chris Shays has credibility is really quite a stretch.
The more I read about this so-called "news", the more I want to retch.
I like the white guy indie stuff, like Silver Jews and !!!,
But also Yo La Tengo, where the drummer doesn't have a dick.
For creepy lyrics don't forget the guy who eyes the girls in "Aqualung" --
He has the snotty nose and bad intent, and, yes, he likes 'em young.
I'm moving all my comments here to do it with a bit of style.
Perhaps you all will join me here. Perhaps it is my Pedolph Isle.
"Let's have a thread!" She says, in rather blatant disregard of us
we would prefer a thread where the apostropher can freely cuss
Where Dems both are and aren't old vets of Nam in spades
and Reps can family values the bejebus out of their young aides.
The thing I hate so far about this thread is noncompliance with
The meter ordered for us by the author--by the fourth or fifth
Iambic iteration of the comment, I get tricked into
Pronouncing every word as if it fits the feet completely through.
I'm sorry Mister Smearcase but you'll have to re-draft 9 for me
So that it fully meets my need for octometricality
Perhaps too hasty and too sloppy in composing comment 9,
But Smearcase is another's handle. Mr. Blandings suits me fine.
A harsh case brought against us all by one of albine ursine kind
merits a plea that she would turn for once, at least, a semi-blind
eye to the defects of our ragged verse, not judge our choric pants off
for one small slip of pous (that's foot) in the Unfogged mega dance off
No matter how hard we all want and are so most sincerely tryin'
"refine the judgment objects!" - but our judgment objects to "refine".
I really hate these English profs with their bitching about meter
The fact that some are amateurs just makes the humor sweeter
I'd like to seem all witty like the A-listers of unfogged
But I'm afraid that god has made me just a plodding witless clod.
For creepy lyrics don't forget the guy who eyes the girls in "Aqualung"
I did not mean to criticize those whose attempts are here displayed
Their excellence in metrical accomplishment I do not grade
I only meant to gesture at the few that do not try to meet
The author's strict prescription for the number and the kind of feet
If you've become dismayed with every other prof-and-lawyer blog
Here's how to find some laughs and friends: just comment at old Unf'ogged
Pick a thread at random and bring up the kids or Al-Quadees,
End every sexist comment with a shout out to the laydee-eez.
And when you are chagrined because you've clicked on one of Apo's links
You can read a thread where we discuss the parties serving cocktail drinks
Take a break when politics makes us all begin to turn hostile,
Imbibe a few and then some more until you become totes Becks-style!
If you know what I mean, and I think that you mus surely do,
Meet us in a bar or pub and yell for some sex with Mutombo.
But read the fucking archives, if you want to get the acronyms,
Ignore the parts with read at the risk of some ad hominems.
You'll never be a regular until you type "if Ogged were here"
And even then you prob'ly won't get why it's funny Labs was queer.
But when the sturm und drang of academic life has got you down,
Grab a beer and comment here and read the thread with Fuck You Clown.
Fuck you clown fuck you clown fuck you clown fuck you clown fuck you clown fuck
You clown fuck you clown fuck you clown fuck you clown fuck you clown fuck you
Clown fuck you clown fuck you clown fuck you clown fuck you clown fuck you.
And even that is not out of aestheticistic exigence
I only mean that my internal metronome is so intense
I read all comments in this thread with such a military force
That everything gets sucked in and chewed up no matter what the source
Somehow in reading quickly I, confused, thought I was comment 9,
And thought 13 was really rather harsh for just one wayward line.
And thus my comment 14, which reflected not a little pique,
But caused confusion, surely, and now brings a blush unto my cheek.
My skills at writing speedy verse are weak, I simply can't keep up,
And after this day's morning I could use a whiskey, neat, in a deep cup,
But Natil, Blandings, JP, Bear, and all the rest are very sharp,
The posters in this thread are such that none at them could rightly carp.
As entertaining nonsense is what I'd like to spot and use,
Post many cheerful facts about the square of the hypotenuse?
And dearest Mister Smearcase, you must know that I am grateful for
Your contributions here or in whatever venue you explore
Is it too late to offer you a basket full of fruit to eat
I understand potassium is how the Mineshaft opts to greet
So back when I was suffering through studies toward* a doctorate
Degree I was enlightened by some tenured alte kaker at
Some awful departmental thing that though it won't sound British quite,
A lot of G&S had been performed azoy mit Yiddishkeit.
*It isn't clear if footnotes also have to fit the metric meme
But just in case you're wondering if "to-ward" bucks this hectic theme
It seems to have two syllables but I object, nay I elect
To tell you it has only one in my verkakte dialect.
Now I am getting troubled by all this goddamn comity
What happened to the old Unfogged with fights and Bitches PhD
This used to be a place for the extreme and controversial
Like athelete Pistourious or volleyballing J'ssca Biel
Oh, nothing's wrong with comity, hurt feelings are no goal of mine,
I'm not one who's delighted when I execute a troll sublime,
You're right though that the arguments were fun, we need to disagree,
'Bout shoes or ships or sealing wax or what they play on MTV.
I know that I am not so good at writing things quite metric'ly,
And yet I'll try here in this thread to do so, and electively;
Rhyme's another matter where I am challenged by complexity,
And thus I slant it here and there though it won't work out textually.
Bananas are the fruit indeed, you denizen of polar north,
And assonance the sound device we use with best poetic force.
A Cuomo lover once before, but now he's earned her enmity,
For pointing her towards douchebags now he owes her an indemnity,
And fair is fair, for me I'll take my legal treatise off the shelf
And file a claim against the chick who sang to me "I touch myself."
I can't believe that I'm the first to vocally appreciate
13's use of a big long word demanding that each line have eight
Feet on the nose, not more nor less, and each one be iambical
In spite of any fear that such a claim might seem pedantical.
Octometricality's a five-star word, as you can see
How fitting that the challenge was met by our own A-Dubya-B!
It must be understood that when my doggerel I write,
I can't be held to poet standards, unworthy of those lofty heights.
Wit and rhyme for me, trump scansion, metaphor and meter,
I'd rather get to comment first than work to make it any neater.
I don't expect these poems to show up in anthologies,
So if they hurt your eyes you must accept my deep apologies.
I don't submit most of my poems to any journal or review,
It's just a blog, and so I'm sure they're good enough for all of you.
Poetry Schmoetry
Ursus Albinius
Uses long words in her
Blog comments here.
We're all impressed by her
Oct-O-metricality
Let's nominate trece for
Comment of the Year!
"The carriage held the two of us and also immortality."
We've got here naught but ballad form, sped up and then read sillily!
White Bear dislikes all verse that doesn't meet the thread requirement,
Natilo huffs "this is a blog, attend to your acclimatement,"
And me, I love sweet meter and despite the fact I'd rather stay,
You'll have to hold this thread for me, for I must slowly walk away.
A prior version of thirty three had the big word charact'rized
as being ursine in its difficulty to be utilized.
And by that means the context for the "fitting" was provided fer;
but in my editing I lost the pun completely. Der.
"Octometricality's a bear to use, as you can see,
How that the challenge was met by our own A-Dubya-B!"
You've no idea how I love that fantasy has come to life
Keep it up! You're doing great! All rhymes bend to your mighty knife.
My contribution might be weak but know that that is just because
My hands are being occupied with thunderous applause.
I don't deserve the accolade, but thank you from your humble hack
Procrastination keeps the dissertation window at the back
So now I turn to write a chapter all about pornography
I hope it doesn't come out thumping humping Gibertanic'ly.
(Regarding octometricality, it's just a word I threw
Out from my course on poetry; those of us teach who cannot do.)
Slinkety Slankety
Ursus maritimus
Teaches to poetize
Then looks at porn.
Citing a proverb, she
Self-denigratingly
Plays down her talents (not
Toots her own horn).
40/42: indeed, exactly what I had in mind.
(are couplets mandatory here, or merely how we're all inclined?)
A contribution's strength is measured not by its complexity,
Or by a rhyming scheme to put one's tongue in a perplexity;
Instead I think each commenter sets out to meet the duty
To create a lyric round and lush as heebie geebie's booty.
A couplet's length is short enough that it is not too frightening,
And formally it's pleasant, for the first line does the heightening
Of tension which the next resolves, as in an ancient epigram,
By Martial or Catullus or some other awful Roman ham.
I can't believe I overlooked the previous dactylic verse!
But bringing it to our attention surely only makes it worse.
And there I thought that you were mocking cause I botched the latin name,
Of polar bears which I admit I did to my undying shame,
I didn't look it up because I thought "no way it scans",
But 45 establishes agley go oft my cherished plans!
Our Nosflow is correct in that a rhyme scheme should create a need
The first line creates tension as subconsciously it plants a seed
The second sneaks up quietly, in shadow up behind the first
And satisfies erotic'ly the pining panting mental thirst
It's time I go, for real this time, because, you see, I have to write
I don't think my committee will accept this thread--and so goodnight!
A Roman ham some would prefer, but I don't have the stomach
For Seneca or Ovid or some other toga'd lummock;
Still I think I'd rather read a Roman, even if it be a chore,
Than hunt the meaning of some bullshit from a common modern boar.
An invitation to compose light verse should come with warning signs
In light of the proclivity we've all shown here for wasting time.
Perfectionism and procrastination are a deadly pair:
We know we should get back to work, but also that this stress goes there,
Until the scansion's fixed we'll make no progress on the job that pays.
(I do not wish to contemplate what makes this like all other days.)
So call in Blandings and Natilo to compose a worthy thread
And let A White Bear referee the iambs sounding in her head.
Should any poster set a foot outside the bounds that Heebie wants
The lion and the orca will destroy them with metrical taunts.
Meanwhile I'll focus on this grant and try not to re-re-refresh.
We'll see. At best, the spirit's grudging, and (alas) weak is the flesh.
Mmm, Roman ham, prosciutto, bacon, hot dogs, other sausages,
You've made me hungry when my mind should be on other thoughts-ages.
Back to my work I now should turn, though 'neath the burden I will chafe,
Since I'm distracted by the flavor of the animal that's trafe.
But what's a cloven hoof 'tween friends, I'd ask (if I were Jewish).
They taste so good that to abstain would surely make me bluish.
And after all, I'm not the first to ask, although it's vicious,
If pigs are not for eating, why'd He make them so delicious?
[pwn'd on preview]
Some awful Roman ham? You mean the luscious meat of cured maiale?
I'm not just being cheeky when I tell you that I love guanciale.
And now I think tonight I'll have to make spaghetti carbonara,
Which means I've got some marketing to do, so I'll say sayonara.
I kid, of course, I'm stuck here at my desk til six, but I can dream,
Of parmigiano reggiano, not ('cause I'm a purist) cream,
And hand-made, bronze-die, sun-dried pasta, briskly cooked until al dente.
And washed down with some cheap domestic brew 'cause I'm down with the gente.
I doubt the pwnage Blandings claims in posting number 60
For time is not the only factor; no, it's much more tricky.
And when we think of value added by a comment coming second,
Carbonara's ground than which we won't find anything more fecund.
I was hungry at the first suggestion of a dinner plate,
Now the grumbling in my stomach's embarrassing my office-mate.
But I'm afraid that god has made me just a plodding witless clod.
New mouseover text?
I will now embarrass myself by confessing I didn't catch until just now it was to the meter of the "I am the very model" song. I was just counting to sixteen. I'm a dim bulb.
My mother has some comments about growing up a WASPy Guess;
To ask was tantamount to risky bare-your-throat weakness.
Far less could one complain or mourn or argue or (hush) make a fuss.
Some people do, but those who do are (this unspoken) N L U.
Despite largely enjoying all these comment lines made of eight feet,
After a point it starts to wear, degenerate, turn sickly-sweet:
I don't just read them like they're verse, I sing them out like in the song
But the rel'vant bit has so few notes and rolls and rolls and rolls along--
So...
Submit I for your scorn a meter out of date,
The poulter's measure soi-disant, another cheerful gait,
It may be just as cutesy, and make some apoplectic,
But there's a dappled glory in hexa-then-heptametric.
The hammer Pope applied to the Alexandrine's knee
Applies but poorly when those lines are broken (three then three).
Y'all are quite impressive at this.
Oct-o-meter, oct-a-meter, who'd complain about one letter?
The answer seems to be no one here, and so much for the better
Two penises walk into a bar but no one's there save Johnson.
And then happy day! I found I'd found five dollars in Wisconsin
66.2 should go in the next edition of Rhyme's Reason.
To comment sixty six: I also hear them with the melody
And I confess (congested) that I might commit a felody
Were not it for the part that goes fa-sol-la-ti-do-ti-la-sol*
Relieving the monotony of major seconds in a row.
*Again I must append a footnote to make points phonetical
Though probably you know already, so it's hypothetical
But if you think my rhyme is off, and lest you want to shoot me dead:
Remember "sol" is /so/ as in that fucking needle pulling thread.
felody
Poetic contraction of "felo de se"?
71: No, but that works. See clumsily inserted reference to nasal malady. I'm not actually congested. It was a contrivance, a deus ex machida.
70: That fucking needle pulling thread? Smearcase is new, but between us,
He's clearly read the one 'bout Labs' enormous hand-stretched penis.