There are several other Jumble blogs, but the ones I checked all started off by listing the answers. In this blog, answers can be either hinted at or masked by burying them in comments. No overt spoilers!
All hints are in the comments!
All hints are in the comments!
Friday, December 14, 2018
Dec.14, 2018
|| || wound, utter, mascot, poetry, to two tutus.
The opening poem contains all the words (or variations of them) from today's Jumble.
Comments are the lifeblood of a blog!
Read the comments, and reply to them if you are so moved!
Poetry is the poetry of poetry, Words that utter mystery. Wound like wire on a spool, Bound by an ethereal rule.
Mascots for poets would be otters, Playing laughing tricks on others, Floating hand in hand, asleep, Two by two. Let critics seek, Analysts find meanings deep Beyond the words the poets speak.
Too to two is homophonic Tutus are too-too, euphonic! Too-too is just too twee, euphoric, May have been spoken once by Yorick!
Poetry is the poetry of poetry, Words of utter mystery. They wound and leave a bloody pool, Inflicted by an ephemeral tool.
I've been reading poetry in the New Yorker, which I normally consider the antithesis of good poetry, and afraid it shows up in this rather abstract effort. Despite that I think this is still a well-structured poem with an abundance of wordplay and even homages to Gertrude Stein and Shakespeare.
Yes, to try a faint imitation, this is a poem that poets will find poetic. That is, it seems to me a poem that is to be appreciated more than experienced. And I do appreciate it, though not a poet myself, especially the parallel contrasts in the first and last stanzas.
As for the jumble, clues were easy and solution was too, too obvious!
A poem of poems, or mayhap a poem's poem?! Truly a work of art, inspired by Erato herself...
As to the jumble, my first thought--given today's sensitivities--was to imagine one or both ballerinas shouting, "Hey, creeps, my eyes are up here!" ~ OMK
I didn't find this easy. The third word gave me problems so had to peruse your poem, Owen. My! The metaphysical poets would embrace you, I believe. The final solution is too, too much! Doctor's appointment today.
Delightful poetry poem, Owen--many thanks. Got the Shakespeare reference, of course, but tell us the Stein allusion. The Jumble was a total Friday delight, with, of course, the last item paying a special tribute to Owen. Too too delightful--wait, it's more delightful to . . . . whatever. Have a good doctor's appointment, Lucina, and a good weekend, everybody.
Misty ~ Maybe this will help...? Maybe "Poetry is the poetry of poetry" = "Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose"? (I won't go on to the magisterial mysteries of "Moses supposes his toeses are roses..." I may have gone too far already.) ~ OMK
Alas, poor Wilbur, a fellow of infinite jest Of most excellent fancy... Oft would he prick with the needle of wit and jest But when the sharp penetrating arrow wounds from behind When the words uttered are "This won't hurt" Tis not poetry, begs prayer this is....
Good luck on your lab results, W.C.! When the urologist says, "This won't hurt," you have every right to be on guard. A couple of months ago, my urologist said, "This shouldn't hurt--much." These were his fatal (well, nearly) words before an in-office cystoscopy. My god. What really got me when we reviewed the results was that he needed to go back in! He had forgotten to check something the first time.
Once bitten... I insisted the next time had to be in the hospital under full general anesthesia. The results were fine. That's all in the past now. Never again, my friend, never ... ~ OMK
| wound, utter, mascot, poetry, to two tutus.
14 comments:
Poetry is the poetry of poetry,
Words that utter mystery.
Wound like wire on a spool,
Bound by an ethereal rule.
Mascots for poets would be otters,
Playing laughing tricks on others,
Floating hand in hand, asleep,
Two by two. Let critics seek,
Analysts find meanings deep
Beyond the words the poets speak.
Too to two is homophonic
Tutus are too-too, euphonic!
Too-too is just too twee, euphoric,
May have been spoken once by Yorick!
Poetry is the poetry of poetry,
Words of utter mystery.
They wound and leave a bloody pool,
Inflicted by an ephemeral tool.
I've been reading poetry in the New Yorker, which I normally consider the antithesis of good poetry, and afraid it shows up in this rather abstract effort. Despite that I think this is still a well-structured poem with an abundance of wordplay and even homages to Gertrude Stein and Shakespeare.
Yes, to try a faint imitation, this is a poem that poets will find poetic. That is, it seems to me a poem that is to be appreciated more than experienced. And I do appreciate it, though not a poet myself, especially the parallel contrasts in the first and last stanzas.
As for the jumble, clues were easy and solution was too, too obvious!
A poem of poems, or mayhap a poem's poem?! Truly a work of art, inspired by Erato herself...
As to the jumble, my first thought--given today's sensitivities--was to imagine one or both ballerinas shouting, "Hey, creeps, my eyes are up here!"
~ OMK
I didn't find this easy. The third word gave me problems so had to peruse your poem, Owen. My! The metaphysical poets would embrace you, I believe. The final solution is too, too much! Doctor's appointment today.
Delightful poetry poem, Owen--many thanks. Got the Shakespeare reference, of course, but tell us the Stein allusion. The Jumble was a total Friday delight, with, of course, the last item paying a special tribute to Owen. Too too delightful--wait, it's more delightful to . . . . whatever. Have a good doctor's appointment, Lucina, and a good weekend, everybody.
Misty ~
Maybe this will help...?
Maybe "Poetry is the poetry of poetry" = "Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose"?
(I won't go on to the magisterial mysteries of "Moses supposes his toeses are roses..."
I may have gone too far already.)
~ OMK
Notes from the Urology office
Alas, poor Wilbur, a fellow of infinite jest
Of most excellent fancy...
Oft would he prick with the needle of wit and jest
But when the sharp penetrating arrow wounds from behind
When the words uttered are "This won't hurt"
Tis not poetry, begs prayer this is....
A prostate biopsy*
Weeping Wilbur
I'll let you know the results next Friday
Good luck on your lab results, W.C.!
When the urologist says, "This won't hurt," you have every right to be on guard.
A couple of months ago, my urologist said, "This shouldn't hurt--much."
These were his fatal (well, nearly) words before an in-office cystoscopy.
My god.
What really got me when we reviewed the results was that he needed to go back in! He had forgotten to check something the first time.
Once bitten...
I insisted the next time had to be in the hospital under full general anesthesia.
The results were fine.
That's all in the past now. Never again, my friend, never ...
~ OMK
You nailed it, Keith!
I don't know if I made you laugh but I'm ROTFL
Since I couldn't rhyme with"Fancy" I stuck to imitating Will
WC
Masterful, Wilbur! Very good indeed!
Thank you, Ol'Man Keith--you know your Stein better than I do and she is one of my favorites.
Wilbur, what worrisome news, even with a very clever and moving poem. Hope everything will be okay, and please keep us posted.
Thank you Misty and everybody. When things are beyond your control we fall back on laughter (and prayers)*
As uncomfortable as it was (sheesh) it was less so than the purple death dermatology procedure
WC
* As much to focus my mind away from what was going ....(shudder)
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