Bet you didn't realise there was a Competition.Actually there wasn't really, it was more of an idle speculation.
From your Blogista...
Caducity's unsharpened
Your nagging; I confess
I nod and doze without riposte,
Hypnogogic dictatress.
...with extra points deducted for taking six days to finish.
O'Hara combines celerity with talent, to deliver...
Life is but an hypnogogic illusion, its caducity ends inevitably in a meeting with the Dicatress Death to whom there can be no riposte.
...and races away with a Lenin Prize!
---
Today's words for a Fit of Idle Speculation are...
August
Mackle
Wayworn
Onomatopeed
Rogueclassicism (May He Get Well Soon) seems to be disabled with an ear infection, so I chose these myself, same method, except I'm too fond of mackle and wayworn to eliminate them for not being classical.
Do with them as you will, or nothing, or something else.
And should you never chance across this post, or this blog at all, sir, madam, then be consoled that you are with the majority ~ and so we are all content.
9 comments:
Now that's going to take some thinking.
I'm on it.
Rule #1 is "winners announced next Wednesday-ish"... gives me time to get my little grey cells down from the hills and into the shearing shed.
Oh rats - I missed the competition. Must pay more attention in class.
I hope you'll join in..! I can't award myself the Prize, and O'Hara was until now the only other person who knew about it.
And she's get bored, accepting a Glittering Prize week after week. Probably.
Oh take away my glory - why don't ya ;)
Mini-competition, four words...
Nobody's
Friend
Sore
Loser
Won't take too long, methinks.
The Onomatopeed is doing my head in. Got to admit I'm struggling with the onamatopeed.
Would the Onamatopeed mackle its wayworn self across an august tome?
Oh dear, I was hoping everybody had forgotten about this.
As for the four words,
"Do with them as you will, or nothing, or something else."
so probably you can leave 'onomatopeed' out... so long as you're inspired by it.
Rules? What rules?
I trailed her august ladyship halfway across Europe, and, finally able to despatch her in her hotel room at the skiing resort of Gurgl Obergurgl, by strangulation so that her last utterances onomatopeed with the place-name, I obtained an extra frisson as I stepped back and crushed the mackled lenses of her lorgnettes under my wayworn bootheel - for this was the Hotel Crystal.
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