John K. wrote:Gee oh gee, thanks for the compliment, but it would have to be an parallel universe for my missives to be worthy of the master's attention. Especially any attempt on my part to add a Halleh to his lujah.
Yum! I'll take that "Hall, eh?" And, LuDawg snarfs the "Lu, jah?" Ta. Coolness. I love it when you generate fireworks. I'm flattering you while slipping out the back door of the For'em pocketing a pair o' keepers. Thieving you, in keeping with one of the themes swathing your imitation, robbing you blindfolded. Off-ripping you. K, K.? That's what Eliot meant, about a sure-fire way to pick off a magpie as opposed to a wannabe: If brought before a judge, TOILT'd blame the broken Hallelujah and say amateurs [amatuers, surely?] make allusions; professional poets steal. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, n'est-ce pas?
You can tell Mitchell's slam still really smarts, can't you? Proves she's not a poet. A poet would know it's part of the job description. Typical for a Scorpio; and, no, I did not pick BoHo b/cuz of her song by that name; I wuz borned BodaciousHowler prior to her dance number. But, pfft! Smugly telling the world she lost respect for The Man when she found out where he'd gotten his ideas and stuff, when she got around to actually reading Lorca, Nietzsche, et.al.? P-U.
Gads. Gimme a brick!
Plus, your effort's pitched towards Canada, when it comes to doing the "Hall, eh? Dance"; and, there's a spare chair at the table for anyone masochistic enough to visit us; since, if they are, who are we to stop them? Serves 'em right! Pass the peanuts.
Not only do I think we ought to hold a challenge to unearth the lost stanzae of "Hallelujah," but also of "A / Thousand Kisses Deep" and "Closing Time." I also believe the stakes better be high enough to keep 'em drooling. This is, after all, the holy game of poker. Otherwise, deal me out. Judges? That'd be tricky; I propose those among us who feel they'd foot the bill ought to feel free to make their critical skills available as part of judging by committee. Plus, if one simply votes in a poll, does one's username get registered (if they have no comments, I mean, right)? We could post the poems anonymously if there's a secret-ballot feature in polling.
That way, each judge gets to enter since we'd need about five or six judges, right? Deadline? Mother's Day (to honour Jessica) and Announcement? (Of course, Adam), Father's Day.
Which is to say, if the rumours about top prize are true, deal me in.
Also, what about publishing our efforts or, at least making them available in Cyberia? I could host a domain called borntoblose.xxx and make a page with all of the entries. Thus, we'd need permission to reprint plus a biography of no more than a hunnert choice woids.
Is this starting to sound suspiciously pitch-like? Somebody we know will put up a gold-plated Future ring for the prize-winner? Trumour or what?
Bo No Bluffalo-Shuffalo Ho
p.s. Couldja pass that bottle of tequila? I know I'm too sober when you start making sense <*belch*>
Love & Always
Bingo! This game ain't no namby-pamby half a "hell, eh?" kind o' place; it ain't no bingo hall; you want The Diamond's Mine by Pete N, John k. It's three thread's down, just follow the divine blue line (since, I'm in the chorus, right?). No offense; but, I can't put Bingoists in the neighbourhoodlum poker class. Your normal Bingoist wouldn't be listening to JC, LC, KC, et.allofem. So, if it's a greenlight-go kind of show, I'll ante up; but, I'll pass on the dauber . . . OTOH, right now, we've got a chess game going in the Penthouse . . . Nah, they prolly listen to Mozart's Bubblegum Sonata up there <*waves a hunnert floors above us*>
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JK
O, K. Will the real John K. please to stand up? Just Kidding? JK? Man's sakes, we're overrun with trolls these daze . . .
. I can hear myself singing it.
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Good one 
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