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Wednesday, April 17, 2019
Aesop Channel'd 'n' Chopp'd: Array Three
Commentary
Also called "The Cock and the Pearl," this fable's "frills" are the gleanings of the field, seen by the cock as of value to him. The fool is, of course, the cock himself -- in not recognizing the greater value of his chance discovery.
Its Perry Index number is #503
Like "Belling the Cat," "The Dog in the Manger" is well known, whether as fable, metaphor or meme.
Its Perry Index number is #703.
Tuesday, April 16, 2019
Aesop Channel'd 'n' Chopp'd: Array Two
Monday, April 15, 2019
Aesop Channel'd 'n' Chopp'd: a Constrained Illustrated ABC in Meter and Rhyme Recording an Imagined Conversation Between Aesop the Fabulist and Homer the Bard as Displayed in 17 Four-panel Arrays, Including Commentaries: Array One -- Plus a Cross Reference of the Perry Index Numbers to the Lopp'd Verses
Commentary
If a word or phrase, including the title of a particular fable, is unfamiliar and the commentary adjacent to each array provides no explication, try
Googling the word or phrase.
'Multinash' is a newly coined abbreviation of the author's own creation meaning 'multinational.' Such an individual (a multinash, not the author, of course) might well elect to spell 'Aesop' using an Old English ash and a Hebrew shin as his arch accompaniment to a Greek omicron and pi.
The Attic Greek "Andra moi ennepe Mu-" are the opening seven syllables of Homer's epic The Odyssey, an anticipatory plagiarism of the Latin "Arma virumque cano" septet of Vergil's The Aeneid. Both are no-nonsense works of verbal art in contradistinction to the silliness reproduced here.
The German 'mit' and the English abbreviation 'litt' add to the multinational character of this opening array, as the French 'fou' does as well, while standing for 'fun.'
The physiognomy of Aesop's bust is based on a reading the The Aesop Romance, a compilation of several old vitae, which reveals the fabulist to have been one singularly unattractive storyteller. The bust of Homer appears to feature several facial characteristics of a certain animated cartoon personality.
The meter in this and throughout the other arrays is in dactyls, with lots of end- and internal rhymes.
(Appearing below are the Perry Index numbers corresponding to the fables of which the alphabet’s lopp’d verses, also appearing below, are the constrained treatments.)
Array One: A: Aesop the Fabulist, from The Aesop Romance.
A is for Aesop…’tis I!
“Multinash”? Spell it ‘ash, shin’…plus ‘omicron, pi’!
Hear we “Andra moi ennepe Mu-…”?
Not one whit! Here sits lit writ wit’ wit…mit litt’ bits fit for fou.
“Multinash”? Spell it ‘ash, shin’…plus ‘omicron, pi’!
Hear we “Andra moi ennepe Mu-…”?
Not one whit! Here sits lit writ wit’ wit…mit litt’ bits fit for fou.
Array Two: B:
Belling the Cat aka The Mice in Council, from Perry #613.
B’s for my “Belling the Cat.”
Point…?
To say’s
not to do! (Dudes like
you must know that.)
Array Three:
C: The Cock and the Jewel aka The Cock and the Pearl, from Perry #503,
and D: The
Dog in the Manger, from Perry #703.
C…? My “The Cock and the Jew’l.”
What’s its
gist…? Who’d persist fetchin’ frills finds…a fool.
D’s my “The Dog in the Manger.”
Who’d accrue without usin’…? “Gr-r-r-r-!”s any cur stranger…?
Array Four: E:
Ennus, adopted son of Aesop, from The
Aesop Romance.
E is for Ennus, my “scion.”
Me Enn jailed.
Oui!
Enn failed.
Enn’s no gens I’d rely on.
Array Five: F:
The Fawn and his Mother, from Perry #351,
and G: The
Gnat and the Bull, from Perry #137.
F’s my “The Faun and his Mother.”
No raison
favors fight – not when flight be one’s druther.
G’s my “The Gnat and the Bull.
‘Tis too true: you’re just you. Let not
pride pull the wool.
Array Six: H:
The Hare and the Tortoise, from Perry #226.
H…? My “The Hare and the Tortoise.”
Read ‘n’ weep:
Never sleep!
Are we thinkin’ Abe Fortas…?
Array Seven:
I: The Idol of Clay, from Perry #285.
I’s my “The Idol of Clay.”
Shan’t be troll’d, t pot [rau tjpigj upi
,ay.
Pours out gold when you break it one day.
(It appears the god hears – in his
roundabout way.)
Array Eight:
J: Jove and the Monkey, from Perry #364,
and K: The
King of the Frogs, from a later version of Perry #44.
J’s for my “Jove and the Monkey.”
Please to note: one’s son’s haut, be he fair-form’d or funky.
K’s for “The King of the Frogs.”
Lesson…? Don’t for storks sue. Do
make do with god’s logs.
Array Nine: L:
The Lion in Love, from Perry #140.
L’s my “The Lion in Love.”
Be that passion’s
irrational
cognizant of!
Array Ten: M:
The Miser’s Lost Gold, from Perry #225 (?).
M’s my “The Miser’s Lost gold.”
Nick’d: the lot! Nor would Cott* be
cajol’d.
“Still…” folks thought, “naught got
bought, naught got sold…
What’s amiss…?” Merely this: not one
dinar’d he doled!
*
Cotta’s the archetypal miser in A. Pope’s satirical epistle.
Array Eleven:
N: The Neat’s Tongues Adventure, from The
Aesop Romance,
and O: The
Old Man and Death, from Perry #60.
N…? My “The Neats’s Tongues Adventure,”
when our gallant’s droll talents proved
awkward to censure.
O’s my “The Old Man and Death.”
Don’t invite cure by Death. Death’s for
shite. Save your breath.
Array Twelve:
P: The Peacock and Juno, from Perry #509,
and Q: The
Quack Frog: a Fable, from Perry #289.
P…? My “The Peacock and Juno.”
On can’t have it all. Folks will call
one…well…you know.
Q’s my “The Quack Frog: a Fable.”
First, docteur:
thyself
cure – or deserve that ‘quack’ label.
Array
Thirteen: R: The Raven a Swan – from Perry #398,
and S: The
Stag at the Pool – from Perry #73.
R’s my “The Swan and the Raven.”
Change of scene doesn’t mean that one gets
all one’s cravin.’
S…? My “The Stage at the Pool.”
Don’t write off that which oft proves a
life-savin’ tool.
Array
Fourteen: T: The Thieves and a Cock, from Perry #122,
and U: The
United Four Oxen, from Perry #372.
T’s my “The Thieves ‘n’ a Cock.”
Your belief that a thief won’t undo you…?
A crock!
U…? “The Four Oxen, United.”
Graze alone, on your own…? Quick demise
you’re invitin.'
Array
Fifteen: V: The Vine and the Goat, from Perry #374,
and W: Wolf
and the Kid, from Perry #159 (?)
V is “The Vine ‘n’ the Goat.”
Break your fast: who’ll laugh last when’s
laid open your throat…?
W’s “Wolf ‘n’ the Kid”:
Actin’ smart ain’t no art when one’s
cautiously hid.
Array
Sixteen: X: Xanthus, Aesop’s master, from The
Aesop Romance,
and Y: A
Youth and his Mother, from Perry #364.
X is for Xanthus, my Master.
Had slave not been my lotm would’ve
my pastures proved vaster?
Y’s my “A Youth ‘n’ His Mother.”
Raise your child to run wild…? He’ll grow
up as no other.
Array
Seventeen: Z: The Zephyr/Sol War, from The North Wind and the Sun, Perry #46.
Z…? My “The Zephyr/Sol War.”
What beats force…?
Well, of course, exhortation will…
…or…
Monday, April 8, 2019
Bananagraffe on W O R D S
Meet Ms. Diana Dors!
She lives down Rotten Row
and best be censur'd -- or
licentious oats she'll sow.
As flights of ducks (a sord)
ascend as does the Dow,
her passions also do,
as do her hackles. Ow!
Meet Dangerfield -- young Rod --
but credit not his word:
"I'm unlike other Rods."
He'll perish by the sword.
Then, planted in the sod
among long bone-yard rows,
that silly so-'n'-so
shall burst forth. Mark my words!
She lives down Rotten Row
and best be censur'd -- or
licentious oats she'll sow.
As flights of ducks (a sord)
ascend as does the Dow,
her passions also do,
as do her hackles. Ow!
Meet Dangerfield -- young Rod --
but credit not his word:
"I'm unlike other Rods."
He'll perish by the sword.
Then, planted in the sod
among long bone-yard rows,
that silly so-'n'-so
shall burst forth. Mark my words!
Monday, April 1, 2019
A...B...C...D...-ump: Monorhymes & Monomaniacs: a Nonsense Alphabet
"'Til Terminated,
T's Thoughts Turn, Time and Time Again, to Trump" #2 pencil on photocopy paper, cropped and digitally modified 4" x 4" |
A 'toon be Mrs. Andy Gump.
Poor broad's puss? Paw'd by randy Trump.
Behold Beyoncé's baby bump!
Who owns that ova? Maybe Trump?
Can clods compact to form a clump?
They can! They forge abnorma' Trump.
Deck MAGA hats the city dump?
Hell! Hoard$ got hawk'd. Don't pity Trump!
El Presidente's effing plump.
A fool's vain errand: reffing Trump.
Fine frauen? Trump's wed three (no frump).
All speak no...hear no...see no Trump!
"Good golly, Papa's such a grump."
(Young Barron thinks not much o' Trump.)
Hides bigly hair a midget's hump?
Who pillages the fridge? It's Trump!
Ivanka's Da's scores? In a slump.
Says she, "You still my winna,' Trump."
Jared Kushner's cryin,' "Jump!"
At Mueller? Nope! At Lyin' Trump.
Kill the ref! Then kill the ump!
(Then kill, as well, that filthy Trump.)
Lymphoma! Look: a tiny lump.
What's next? Cue weepy, whiney Trump!
Melange o' cysts -- cysts on his rump.
Who owns those mumps? Dishonest Trump.
N
O
P
Q
R
S
T
U
V
W
X
Y
Z
Friday, March 29, 2019
Sestinable, or, How, On First Looking Into Bishop's Quinti-Sensual "Sestina," I Composed My Own Queer De-Sensical Sestina: a Tutouliporial of Sorts
Here are combinations of the letters O P S T. The six forming words, used as end words in the sestina, are in underlined italics.
S P O T P O T S O T P S T S O P S P T O P O S T O T S P T S O P
S O P T P T O S O S T P T P O S S O T P P T S O O S P T T P S O
S T O P P S O T O P T S T O S P S T P O P S T O O P S T T O P S
Typically, sestina end words aren't anagrams of each other. That this sestina's are is but one characteristic distinguishing it from less rigorous examples of the form.
Here each of the six end words is assigned a numeral: 'opts' > 1 'post' > 2 'stop' > 3 'tops' > 4 'pots' > 5 'spot' > 6
Here are the sequences in which the words will be permuted through the lines of the six stanzas.
1 2 3 4 5 6 first stanza 6 1 5 2 4 3 second stanza 3 6 4 1 2 5 third stanza
5 3 2 6 1 4 fourth stanza 4 5 1 3 6 2 fifth stanza 2 4 6 5 3 1 sixth stanza
Here are the six stanzas, plus the three lines of the envoi. Note that all lines are in alexandrines and that the whole, with the inclusion of the envoi, forms an acrostic. Note as well that the envoi employs all six end words both at ends of lines and internally halfway through each line.
So: Phoppe, who'd cop to "Best Sestin'er Ever," opts
to score 'n' share three pair o' anagrams on 'post.'
What's more, he'd bare such fare -- nor there'd he stop,
but, totting, syst'matize (verse-wise, sum guys be tops)
this list, then scribbl'it down. (Clowns flush theirs down pals' pots,
so hectorors their feckless anagrams won't spot.)
Exhibits Phoppe his heartware. Where? You'll know the spot:
Ru'de l'Oulipo, where each sestina author opts
to rake in (po'try's play'd like poker) all the pots.
He'd do it, too, were he to, on some off site, post
these "piroulipolettes" (his verse? Like spinning tops)
to collocate, curl, gyrate, twirl -- nor ne'er to stop.
Touts query Phoppe, when on his blog they chance to stop,
while fancy'ng not to put the poe' boy on the spot,
yet blown away how homeboy players' licks he tops
(though not, when each round's won, to lick his chops he opts):
"How so: your pluprose shows up in The Denver Post,
whose pages peddle pablum'd prose -- plus pans 'n' pots?"
To parry pryers' pot shots -- mots Phoppe knows as 'pots' --
he'll let roam po'ms where're, Lord knows, nor never stop
composing -- not (riposte) composting -- 'em, then post-
ing 'em on Fou.com(for Nonsense, 'tis THE spot.
I'm wont to note: Der Phoppster, on occasion, opts
to smoke each po'm -- each toke (no joke) in lieu of Tops.)
Inhaling verse? Which Joes won't curse -- gross'd, toes to tops.
This even when Verlaine (the fave of whose? Pol Pot's)
goes up in smoke. Yup, jokester Phoppe, a loner, opts
to torch the French Romantics, though the cops cry, "Stop!"
Phoppe's lot -- Jane, Puff, Dick, Mother, Baby Sally, Spot --
rue scorching art. (Elsewise, though? Dumber than a post.)
Now omega looms; green rooms grown dim. The noon post
lies, unread, in stacks unshreded. Table tops
o'erflow with letters dead. Each missive bears this spot:
tre nightshades noir, ones never made by flame-scorch'd pots.
And although Phoppe, who, sensing denoument, shouts, "Stop,"
he chooses to continue -- like he always opts.
At close o' show, who'd spot a poetaster opts
to sift hot sand for potsherds Classic (pre- or post-),
and classify Phoppe "TOPS" -- and cherish Phoppe full stop.
S P O T P O T S O T P S T S O P S P T O P O S T O T S P T S O P
S O P T P T O S O S T P T P O S S O T P P T S O O S P T T P S O
S T O P P S O T O P T S T O S P S T P O P S T O O P S T T O P S
Typically, sestina end words aren't anagrams of each other. That this sestina's are is but one characteristic distinguishing it from less rigorous examples of the form.
Here each of the six end words is assigned a numeral: 'opts' > 1 'post' > 2 'stop' > 3 'tops' > 4 'pots' > 5 'spot' > 6
Here are the sequences in which the words will be permuted through the lines of the six stanzas.
1 2 3 4 5 6 first stanza 6 1 5 2 4 3 second stanza 3 6 4 1 2 5 third stanza
5 3 2 6 1 4 fourth stanza 4 5 1 3 6 2 fifth stanza 2 4 6 5 3 1 sixth stanza
Here are the six stanzas, plus the three lines of the envoi. Note that all lines are in alexandrines and that the whole, with the inclusion of the envoi, forms an acrostic. Note as well that the envoi employs all six end words both at ends of lines and internally halfway through each line.
So: Phoppe, who'd cop to "Best Sestin'er Ever," opts
to score 'n' share three pair o' anagrams on 'post.'
What's more, he'd bare such fare -- nor there'd he stop,
but, totting, syst'matize (verse-wise, sum guys be tops)
this list, then scribbl'it down. (Clowns flush theirs down pals' pots,
so hectorors their feckless anagrams won't spot.)
Exhibits Phoppe his heartware. Where? You'll know the spot:
Ru'de l'Oulipo, where each sestina author opts
to rake in (po'try's play'd like poker) all the pots.
He'd do it, too, were he to, on some off site, post
these "piroulipolettes" (his verse? Like spinning tops)
to collocate, curl, gyrate, twirl -- nor ne'er to stop.
Touts query Phoppe, when on his blog they chance to stop,
while fancy'ng not to put the poe' boy on the spot,
yet blown away how homeboy players' licks he tops
(though not, when each round's won, to lick his chops he opts):
"How so: your pluprose shows up in The Denver Post,
whose pages peddle pablum'd prose -- plus pans 'n' pots?"
To parry pryers' pot shots -- mots Phoppe knows as 'pots' --
he'll let roam po'ms where're, Lord knows, nor never stop
composing -- not (riposte) composting -- 'em, then post-
ing 'em on Fou.com
I'm wont to note: Der Phoppster, on occasion, opts
to smoke each po'm -- each toke (no joke) in lieu of Tops.)
Inhaling verse? Which Joes won't curse -- gross'd, toes to tops.
This even when Verlaine (the fave of whose? Pol Pot's)
goes up in smoke. Yup, jokester Phoppe, a loner, opts
to torch the French Romantics, though the cops cry, "Stop!"
Phoppe's lot -- Jane, Puff, Dick, Mother, Baby Sally, Spot --
rue scorching art. (Elsewise, though? Dumber than a post.)
Now omega looms; green rooms grown dim. The noon post
lies, unread, in stacks unshreded. Table tops
o'erflow with letters dead. Each missive bears this spot:
tre nightshades noir, ones never made by flame-scorch'd pots.
And although Phoppe, who, sensing denoument, shouts, "Stop,"
he chooses to continue -- like he always opts.
At close o' show, who'd spot a poetaster opts
to sift hot sand for potsherds Classic (pre- or post-),
and classify Phoppe "TOPS" -- and cherish Phoppe full stop.
Monday, March 25, 2019
Hommage á Gorey
Here' it is: the director's cut of Hommage á Gorey. (An earlier version, posted last May,
has mysteriously discombobulated. Oh, these tiresome comput-a-machines!) To those
who viewed it the first time around we say, "It's back, baby, and better than ever."
To those who've never viewed it we say, "Avanti, Monte!" To both mobs we say,
"Leave a comment or a question at jhiggins27@verizon.net -- and be quick about it...
please."
Thursday, March 21, 2019
Potential Profiles in Textiles
TV Bad Dude Mr. Tea
Former First Son-in-law Jared Cushioner
Theatrical Polymath Noel Cowhide
Singer Johnny Cashmere
Playwright George Bernard Shawl
Actor Cloth Rains
Actress Canvas Bergen
Minimalist Composer Philip Glassine
Dr. Martin Loofah King, Jr.
Actor Benedict Cumberbund
Astronomer Neil deGrasse Ties
Actor Denzel Washantung
President BarRag Obama
Greek Philosopher Socksrates
Former First Son-in-law Jared Cushioner
Theatrical Polymath Noel Cowhide
Singer Johnny Cashmere
Playwright George Bernard Shawl
Actor Cloth Rains
Actress Canvas Bergen
Minimalist Composer Philip Glassine
Dr. Martin Loofah King, Jr.
Actor Benedict Cumberbund
Astronomer Neil deGrasse Ties
Actor Denzel Washantung
President BarRag Obama
Greek Philosopher Socksrates
Monday, March 18, 2019
ShakesBeer: Three Act III, Scene I Beverage Coasters
Sunday, March 17, 2019
Dantegrams (and a Mobygram) for St. Paddy's Day
Midway on the journey of our life
we jury found the oily moon arife.
One pony an' a well be there? Oh, dear!
Abandon hope, all ye who enter here!
Midway on the journey of our life
we jury found the oily moon afire.
Need no owl be here? Nah! Altho' a pyre...
(Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.)
Call me Ishmael.
Mail me a "C" shell.
we jury found the oily moon arife.
One pony an' a well be there? Oh, dear!
Abandon hope, all ye who enter here!
Midway on the journey of our life
we jury found the oily moon afire.
Need no owl be here? Nah! Altho' a pyre...
(Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.)
Call me Ishmael.
Mail me a "C" shell.
Friday, March 15, 2019
Go Figurata!
Hand
Book or My Manualphabet: Verses Embodying a Carmina Figurata
An artist’s hand impersonates: it’s counterfeiting life. A bachelor’s hand procrastinates: it’s disinclined to wife.
The Christ’s hand grins ‘n’ bears it as Delilah’s hand deceives. An empty hand? It supplicates. A four-in-hand inweaves.
Guidonian hands elaborate Mnemosyne with runes. An hour hand meanders through one's endless afternoons.
Does Israel Hands bear malice? Yes, though Horner’s hand would play, whilst Karloff’s hand dehydrates and your left leads me astray.
A mojo hand infatuates, its victims paralyzed. Napoleon’s hand dissimulates, its hubris well disguised.
An open hand calumniates. A penn’d hand signifies. A Qainchi hand embellishes. A read hand prophesies.
A sever’d hand vituperates, its future’s come to grief. A tether’d hand excruciates, despairing of relief.
An underhand informs against. A vampire’s hand garrote's. A waving hand dismisses. A xanthoma’d hand? All spots.
A yogi’s hand surrenders: its beginning is its end. Then Zeus’s hand cracks down on me, though bidding me, “Transcend!”
An artist’s hand impersonates: it’s counterfeiting life. A bachelor’s hand procrastinates: it’s disinclined to wife.
Guidonian hands elaborate Mnemosyne with runes. An hour hand meanders through one's endless afternoons.
Does Israel Hands bear malice? Yes, though Horner’s hand would play, whilst Karloff’s hand dehydrates and your left leads me astray.
A mojo hand infatuates, its victims paralyzed. Napoleon’s hand dissimulates, its hubris well disguised.
An open hand calumniates. A penn’d hand signifies. A Qainchi hand embellishes. A read hand prophesies.
A sever’d hand vituperates, its future’s come to grief. A tether’d hand excruciates, despairing of relief.
An underhand informs against. A vampire’s hand garrote's. A waving hand dismisses. A xanthoma’d hand? All spots.
A yogi’s hand surrenders: its beginning is its end. Then Zeus’s hand cracks down on me, though bidding me, “Transcend!”
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