| || sixty, slant, poetic, global, tell-"tail" signs.
Image from the Internet.
The opening poem contains all the words (or variations of them) from today's Jumble.
Comments are welcomed!
Do not explicitly reveal any of the actual answer words until after closing time, but embedding them surreptitiously in comment sentences is encouraged.
7 comments:
I must wax poetic, and must wane from prose.
If I do not poetize, my raison d'être goes.
What is life without meaning? I must share my slant
In words with rhyme and reason, or my life recant!
This is my vocation. It's what I was meant to do.
My own contribution to the global zeitgeist slew.
When fired by inspiration, I can type like sixty.
E'en when 'tis embers, the need to write still pricks me!
I know not how the future will mark my passage here.
Will judge me success or failure on the blessed sphere.
But I hope a tell-tale sign I did not completely fail
Is when a dog befriends me, and deigns to wag a tail.
What a lovely, heart-felt declaration of your devotion to your art, Owen.. Brief as it is, it serves as a manifesto.
You speak of the obligation that genius imposes in terms warm & friendly, not highfalutin'. It is serious, but also charming & cheerful.
~ OMK
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PS. When tracking the common pheasant, experienced hounds know that coveys of the birds love to nest on ground-hugging plants, or decaying roots & vines.
If the birds are on the wing, the dogs can locate and simply stake out their homes when they smell quail vines. These are a dead giveaway.
Kudos to Owen on a very charming piece, today. Perfectly encompassing the gist of Erato.
OMK, nothing like a little quail humor In the morning
Owen, I think that you taking a break has only made your poems even more evocative. It's so good to see you back.
Of all things, I got hung up on the third clue in this jumble and really had to work at it. And then started off thinking that the third word of the solution was what the second word turned out to be. (Was that description obscure enough?). However, it was a fun process.
Owen, what a charming, meaningful poem--a true delight--many thanks,
Like Sandy, I also had trouble with the third Jumble word--a bit embarrassing for me, given my literary work. Got the second word in the solution instantly, and the other two soon thereafter. My pup Dusty should be proud of me, since I read this sign of his a dozen or more times a day.
Looking forward to more poetry. Have a good day, everybody.
In the Poetics he explains it’s a calling,
not granted to all who write.
Aristotle got the ball rolling,
setting forms
and norms
by aim & by type.
Allowing for changes in style and slant
over centuries and global regions,
we know the laurels are hard won—and can’t
be awarded to all,
answering the call,
yet numbering in legions.
Whether writing in verse or acting a role
we aim to merge content and form.
To do it with words or portray a soul
is a duty
to beauty
that can spark the “perfect storm.”
Persistence is a factor. I’ve lived past sixty
yet though I’ve aimed high in my art,
I swear to Owen, Wilbur, Sandy and Misty
I rarely reached
that peak
where I could give all in my heart.
~ OMK
How lovely, Ol'Man Keith--what a charming, poetic tribute to the art of poetry. I would say you reached at least one peak today.
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