Here's a challenge, in honor of
Groundhog's Day:
What kind of poetic sentence would you concoct with the words scythe, copper, rosette, cant, and canary?
I've borrowed the prompt from the California State Poetry Society's challenge for January, which I tackled at 4 p.m. on the deadline day, January 31, and finished at two minutes past the post office closing. Since it can't go anywhere, it may as well be a Groundhog's Day challenge for you. Post your sentence in the comments here. Have fun! (Update: Oh, you've got to see what has been concocted! I'll have to think of a PRIZE.)
Cogito Ergo Sum
The canary cant sing, said Madame Rosette, poised to behead the bird with a copper scythe.
But wait, said Bertram, her butler, formerly a copper with the Barstow PD, you are missing an apostrophe.
Your canary’s perch is not inclined incorrectly and furthermore your scythe is the softest of metals. It cannot decapitate the canary, for in battle with bird bone, bird bone will win.
Bertram, dear heart, said Madame Rosette, nary a whit of your wit addresses the essence of the sentence, to wit: The canary does not sing.
Since song is the essence of a canary, this canary has no essence. Ergo it must go.
But wait, said Bertram, your “ergo” is not foregone. Since song, as you say, is the essence of canaries, and this canary does not sing, ergo this canary is not a canary and should not be held to the standards of a canary.
Bertram, my darling, said Madame Rosette, twirling her scythe like a schoolgirl’s baton, I find your logic most arousing. Come, make me sing in lieu of the canary.
Whew, that was close, said the canary who was not a canary but a wireless server for the Bank of America, and it returned to cogitating sums.
10 comments:
yikes, you're sharp today. well done!!!!!
This is so funny. Your humor was in full force with this one. Hope you are doing well.
The copper kettle gleams
on the black stove,
the clock chimes ten
for my Aunt's canary
who cannot sing,
Two photos lean opposed
on the mantelpiece,
My Uncle holding his scythe
near a barn,
and my cousin with a rosette
from the dairy show.
The canary, perched at a cant in order to avoid the eyes of the copper (to be truthful, he looked intoxicated), created a tale that cut through the room like a scythe – singing a song of murder and implication and explaining the exact placement of the rosette on the body.
Oh, you crack me up!! You are too funny and I needed a nice smile to start my day.
I'll have to do some thinking about my sentence.
With my special scythe of copper(that won a rosette at the scythe country show)I'm going to sickle you to a pickle you facking cant of a canary!!!
Chris, I challenged my 16 year old daughter with your words and here is what she came up with.
With copper-bladed scythe, he caresses the gentle rosettes of ribbon - once so red, now torn and black - in her hair, and upon the cant he kneels, his most regretful work completed as the canary yellow sun dives to its own glorious death.
What do you think? I love it!
Completely brilliant! I especially love the first line.
It's all cant, said the copper as he confronted Rosette down on Canary Wharf where she was threatening the terrified banker with her blood-encrusted scythe.
My scythe cut off the head of the canary, perched on a cant next to the old copper kettle, and I received a first place rosette for canary stew at the coal miner's fair.
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