Remember, remember, the 5th of November...
On November 5, 1605, Guy Fawkes, the notorious, treacherous, miserable traitor that he is, attempted to blow up King James I, along with the Houses of Parliament. He was crucified, died, and was buried. Or something like that; I may be mixing fiction with reality. This year, his
stellar effort fortunate discovery, capture and demise was celebrated locally with 500 kilogrammes of top notch, chromatically and tactically choreographed, exploding ground-launched
projectiles. The display was wonderful, and almost as good as the twelve deep-fried, conveyor-belt doughnuts that were polished off between the three little pigs, better known as myself and two companions. It's really all about cholesterol and a good bang.
Oh, dear. Stopped by Matt's blog before coming here and left a terrible Fawkesian double dactyl. Can I ask you to share?
Parliament Hall, it was (or would have been), the Houses of Parliament not having been built at that time.
Nice photos - we were surrounded by people banging away, but we couldn't see anything from our house, and no-one felt like going out in search of flying fire.
Alrighty then, but don't expect miracles (scribbles for a minute or two):
Crackerjack, wackerjack
Misguided socialist
Tried really hard to blow-
up James [our King]
Idealistically
planned - Fatalistically
discovered and buggered
Achieving nothing
Bleugh.. they take getting used to - technically the last line is illegitimate as I couldn't think of an appropriate dactyl-accent super-imaginative-combo!
David, the last time I was surrounded by people banging away, it came from above (ceiling), below (thin floors) and behind (paper walls). They all sounded different, but my favourite came from behind, where each rhythmic creak of the bed was punctuated by quiet, high squeaks of pleasure (I assume) from the sweet and innocent girl that my former neighbour was dating.
That was my favourite; the most exciting came from above - both high calibre choristers who climaxed with harmonies. In perfect key.
Now that must have been in a hall of residences, right?
By the way, I only learnt that it was Parliament Hall (wherever that was/is) yesterday. Until then, I'd always thought it was the present Houses of Parliament.
Ah, Stairs...you always have a way with words. Double entendres are very becoming. ;-)
Oh, dear. That was absolutely lovely, but this time it's I who have to work on clarity--I meant that I didn't think I had it in me to write another double dactyl for Guy Fawkes' Day, and so I was hoping you could share the one I wrote on Matt's site.
What is all of this about dinosaurs? I do not understand it.
I once wrote a sex haiku, and it even rhymed:
Hippies spread disease.
Copulation is gratis.
Ouch, itchy testes.
Yes, it has already been picked up by The New Yorker. Crabs, that is. Not my haiku.
And there I was trying to make things more complicated than they actually were... It could be that there are legal and moral issues connected to your suggestion, but as the executor, you may well have ultimate say.
Courtesy of NY's very own Dark Overlord, and heavily linked back to divine source:
Lechery Treachery
Guy (also Guido) Fawkes,
Captured, now went to the
Scaffold to hang;
When he was asked, "why so
Supercaliginous?"
Answered, "I'd hoped to go
Out with a bang.
Mister Frank, palaeontologists have recently revealed that the structure of winged Pterosaur vocal cords was such that they could only have spoken in dimeter. Since the genera in question were all types of Pterodactyl, the resulting art-form thereby derived was called dactylic dimeter. Beautiful and logical!
Roughly put:
One stanza = 3 lines dactylic dimeter followed by 1 line w/ dactyl and a single accent.
There are two stanzas.
Stanza 1: Line 1 = repetitive nonsense
Stanza 1: Line 2 = a proper noun, double dactylic
Stanza 2: At least one line comprising a double dactylic word
The above is only a rough guide, and I may be well off - more about them here.
Crabs are good with french bread and melted butter, but my favourite dish was 'chilli crabs', and you don't often find that outside of SE Asia, except in really [messy] authentic establishments. How did you eat yours?
Crikey, my Wheetabix has turned to mush.
My friends and I used to often each Virgins cooked in a chilli sauce in Denmark. The virgins in question being languistines (sp?), which are known as jomfruhummer ('virgin lobster') in Danish. They were delish, so I'm sad to say I haven't had them for ages - it's hard to find a good virgin in West Yorkshire!
I always get confused by the meaning of 'stanza' - so is it a line or a verse?
"eat", I meant, of course, not "each".
Drat, if only I'd noticed that typo earlier...