tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11152564.post4062420668977107300..comments2024-01-31T00:52:30.471-08:00Comments on Waking Ambrose: ElegyDoug The Unahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04753071669562594194noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11152564.post-82683092609524774792008-11-18T18:04:00.000-08:002008-11-18T18:04:00.000-08:00Amen on the meh........Amen on the meh......<BR/>..Jimhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02982249173214655060noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11152564.post-83149200631085441682008-11-18T10:09:00.000-08:002008-11-18T10:09:00.000-08:00meh..........meh..........Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11152564.post-81830958472963331712008-11-18T07:09:00.000-08:002008-11-18T07:09:00.000-08:00Pia, does anything move faster than nostalgia?Arie...Pia, does anything move faster than nostalgia?<BR/><BR/>Ariel, it sure was a holiday.<BR/><BR/>Different species, Amoeba, really.<BR/><BR/>TLP, I can pretty much be trusted not to over-sentimentalize, it's true.<BR/><BR/>Sure, Jim. Verse takes constant pruning.<BR/><BR/>JD, you're elegy should be "I'm not dead yet."<BR/><BR/>Poetry, Actonbell, and in a single line. That's fairly you, isn't it?<BR/><BR/>Weirsdo, the funny rhyme about the death of a child is a lost and lamented art. Wilhelm Busch was another great.<BR/><BR/>Cooper, it would for me. Be sure and get me an advance copy, though, so I know when to get my affairs in order.Doug The Unahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04753071669562594194noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11152564.post-24585028779699950702008-11-17T21:31:00.000-08:002008-11-17T21:31:00.000-08:00I'll write yours, it may not be a subtly satirical...I'll write yours, it may not be a subtly satirical as Bierce's but it would sure be an honor.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11152564.post-33139673926076412992008-11-17T21:00:00.000-08:002008-11-17T21:00:00.000-08:00ODE TO STEPHEN DOWLING BOTS, DEC’DAnd did young St...ODE TO STEPHEN DOWLING BOTS, DEC’D<BR/><BR/>And did young Stephen sicken,<BR/>And did young Stephen die?<BR/>And did the sad hearts thicken,<BR/>And did the mourners cry?<BR/><BR/>No; such was not the fate of<BR/>Young Stephen Dowling Bots;<BR/>Though sad hearts round him thickened,<BR/>‘Twas not from sickness’ shots.<BR/><BR/>No whooping-cough did rack his frame,<BR/>Nor measles drear with spots;<BR/>Not these impaired the sacred name<BR/>Of Stephen Dowling Bots.<BR/><BR/>Despised love struck not with woe<BR/>That head of curly knots,<BR/>Nor stomach troubles laid him low,<BR/>Young Stephen Dowling Bots.<BR/><BR/>O no. Then list with tearful eye,<BR/>Whilst I his fate do tell.<BR/>His soul did from this cold world fly<BR/>By falling down a well.<BR/><BR/>They got him out and emptied him;<BR/>Alas it was too late;<BR/>His spirit was gone for to sport aloft<BR/>In the realms of the good and great.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11152564.post-50384778402413953132008-11-17T14:51:00.000-08:002008-11-17T14:51:00.000-08:00My elegy...Forlorn, she must mournUntil she is wor...My elegy...<BR/><BR/>Forlorn, she must mourn<BR/>Until she is worn<BR/>Down, down, down,<BR/>In sorrow, she drowns.<BR/><BR/>:-(<BR/><BR/>Now I'm depressed.<BR/><BR/>Not really. I'm feeling quite well because I am no longer ill. I could dance a jig and down a double double!!Jamie Dawnhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11036600186909466411noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11152564.post-67226005037796519182008-11-17T13:38:00.000-08:002008-11-17T13:38:00.000-08:00Elegy: I think of Elton John and his Candle In Th...Elegy: I think of Elton John and his <B><I>Candle In The Wind</I></B><BR/><I>Goodbye England's rose<BR/>May you ever grow in our hearts<BR/>You were the grace that placed itself<BR/>Where lives were torn apart<BR/>You called out to our country<BR/>And you whispered to those in pain<BR/>Now you belong to heaven<BR/>And the stars spell out your name<BR/><BR/>And it seems to me you lived your life<BR/>Like a candle in the wind<BR/>Never fading with the sunset<BR/>When the rain set in<BR/>And your footsteps will always fall you<BR/>Along England's greenest hills<BR/>Your candle's burned out long before<BR/>Your legend never will</I><BR/><BR/>It has fairly decent ryme although he thinks an <B>'s'</B> at the end of a word (and end of line) is invisible and unheard or doesn't count.<BR/>..Jimhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02982249173214655060noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11152564.post-64266645703827751922008-11-17T08:00:00.000-08:002008-11-17T08:00:00.000-08:00You'd be among the best eulogists ever I think.You'd be among the best eulogists ever I think.TLPhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02837578489728318423noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11152564.post-32716712782534688602008-11-17T07:17:00.000-08:002008-11-17T07:17:00.000-08:00ELEGY, n. Los Angeles deejay working funerals, me...<B>ELEGY</B>, <I>n</I>. Los Angeles deejay working funerals, memorial services, vigils, evacuation centers, etc. etc. No relation to bloggers from New York.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11152564.post-88603512463312642472008-11-17T07:16:00.000-08:002008-11-17T07:16:00.000-08:00ELEGY, n. Los Angeles deejay working funerals, me...<B>ELEGY</B>, <I>n</I>. Los Angeles deejay working funerals, memorial services, vigils, evacuation centers, etc. etc. No relation to bloggers from New York.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11152564.post-81524338473736209252008-11-17T06:56:00.000-08:002008-11-17T06:56:00.000-08:00LOL @Tinkleworth! Not that Jonas was busy writing ...LOL @Tinkleworth! Not that Jonas was busy writing elegies in the stomach of the whale. Was that Christmast time?Ariel the Thiefhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15097086287609287362noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11152564.post-36775318558952937472008-11-17T06:29:00.000-08:002008-11-17T06:29:00.000-08:00I think your definition is oh so clever when I hea...I think your definition is oh so clever<BR/><BR/> when I hear the word "elegy" my mind goes straight to the book "Elegy for Iris" about Iris Murdoch written by her husband John Bayley while (almost wrote whilst) she was still alive, of course, but very demented. It's an incredibly beautiful and moving book I hope I still own. It should be in storage<BR/><BR/>Then I go into a eulogy for my old wall unit and apartment. I can even picture where Elegy for Iris was--last book before a section for dementia and aging and just before literature<BR/><BR/>Thank you Doug for this wonderful definition that brought my (old) apartment back to life for me<BR/><BR/>I know scents and things like that are supposed to make things come back to life and they do. But a word does it even more for meAnonymousnoreply@blogger.com