Crossword Poetry
A selection of crossword related poems.
Peter Kelly wrote the limerick for Hugh Stephenson, the Guardian crossword editor and Paulette Hayes embroidered the doily and sent it to Hugh.
Ode to the Midnight Crossword Chasers by Peter Kelly
In the hour which comes before midnight,
I get the most wonderful insight !
But when the clock strikes,
You're all on your bikes,
To partake in the New Crossword bunfight.
And round about twelve twenty-five,
I still think the topic's alive,
But, to my despair,
There's nobody there !
And I know that it just won't revive.
Then I see that the discourse is dead,
And I'm shaking my weary old head,
You all go away,
To the following day,
And the NEW ONE. (And I go to bed).
(But sometimes I try out a clue,
And then I am caught, just like you,
I simply can't leave it,
And, would you believe it !
I find it's a quarter past two.)
25 May 2011
I get the most wonderful insight !
But when the clock strikes,
You're all on your bikes,
To partake in the New Crossword bunfight.
And round about twelve twenty-five,
I still think the topic's alive,
But, to my despair,
There's nobody there !
And I know that it just won't revive.
Then I see that the discourse is dead,
And I'm shaking my weary old head,
You all go away,
To the following day,
And the NEW ONE. (And I go to bed).
(But sometimes I try out a clue,
And then I am caught, just like you,
I simply can't leave it,
And, would you believe it !
I find it's a quarter past two.)
25 May 2011
For PK, as the last souls prepare to cross into tomorrow... by Crucigrama
"Is there anybody there?" said the Puzzler,
Knocking on the café door;
And his pen in the darkness scratched the answers
From the grid day before:
And a word flew up out of the deepest
Part of the Puzzler's head
And he gazed upon the grid again an umpteenth time;
'Is there anybody there?' he said.
But no one descended to the Puzzler;
No head from the smoke-filled snug
Leaned over and looked into his bronze eyes,
Where he stood, so far from smug.
But oh, how the ghosts of yesterday's comments
And fading echoes of links,
And poems, tossed out and abandoned, made it
Spookier than anyone thinks.
Those nuggets and pearls and dusty memories
Catching the light of the moon,
Do a dance macabre on the café floor
Round the dent of a lead balloon:
And he felt in his heart their strangeness,
Their spoilers answering his cry,
While his pen moved, circling the daft clue,
And asked the setter, "why?"
For he suddenly smote on the door, even
Louder, and lifted his head:-
'Tell them I came, and no one answered,
That I crossed my word,' he said.
Never the least stir made the avatars,
Though every word he spake
Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still caff
To the last stale piece of cake:
Ay, they heard his pad upon the doorstep,
And a swish of mane as he turned
And how the silence surged softly backward,
When his lesson he had learned.
with apologies to Walter De La Mare
25 May 2011
Knocking on the café door;
And his pen in the darkness scratched the answers
From the grid day before:
And a word flew up out of the deepest
Part of the Puzzler's head
And he gazed upon the grid again an umpteenth time;
'Is there anybody there?' he said.
But no one descended to the Puzzler;
No head from the smoke-filled snug
Leaned over and looked into his bronze eyes,
Where he stood, so far from smug.
But oh, how the ghosts of yesterday's comments
And fading echoes of links,
And poems, tossed out and abandoned, made it
Spookier than anyone thinks.
Those nuggets and pearls and dusty memories
Catching the light of the moon,
Do a dance macabre on the café floor
Round the dent of a lead balloon:
And he felt in his heart their strangeness,
Their spoilers answering his cry,
While his pen moved, circling the daft clue,
And asked the setter, "why?"
For he suddenly smote on the door, even
Louder, and lifted his head:-
'Tell them I came, and no one answered,
That I crossed my word,' he said.
Never the least stir made the avatars,
Though every word he spake
Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still caff
To the last stale piece of cake:
Ay, they heard his pad upon the doorstep,
And a swish of mane as he turned
And how the silence surged softly backward,
When his lesson he had learned.
with apologies to Walter De La Mare
25 May 2011
I Love my Avatar by Suckspencil
I thought, I'll join this quirky mob
Who like to do the crossies
Then flit around in cyberspace
Like slightly batty mozzies.
They prattle on 'bout this and that
With quips, conceits and puns.
They froth, they fizz, enjoy The Now,
Not caring how Time runs.
First though, a name I've got to find,
A moniker with cachet,
To throw around me like a cloak
As I execute a sashay
On this stage of wordy smiths
As they smile, beguile and tumble,
But not some dour or worthy tag
Nor nothing lame nor humble.
What do you do, I asked myself,
As at 1 across you look,
Your pencil poised and ready?
Why - you give it a big suck!!!
That's it, the name!
Now all I need's a pic to illustrate it.
It must be Google images
I've no talent to create it.
I scroll through dusty pictures,
My interest fading fast,
When suddenly she winks at me,
This saucy sassy lass.
Well I like her. And she likes me!
She's sexy, cool, she's jazz!
So right away, without a word,
Right Click, Save Image As
Yes, that's how me and her came here.
There's nothing more to add.
And if you do not like her
I'm afraid it's Just Too Bad.
15 May 2011
Who like to do the crossies
Then flit around in cyberspace
Like slightly batty mozzies.
They prattle on 'bout this and that
With quips, conceits and puns.
They froth, they fizz, enjoy The Now,
Not caring how Time runs.
First though, a name I've got to find,
A moniker with cachet,
To throw around me like a cloak
As I execute a sashay
On this stage of wordy smiths
As they smile, beguile and tumble,
But not some dour or worthy tag
Nor nothing lame nor humble.
What do you do, I asked myself,
As at 1 across you look,
Your pencil poised and ready?
Why - you give it a big suck!!!
That's it, the name!
Now all I need's a pic to illustrate it.
It must be Google images
I've no talent to create it.
I scroll through dusty pictures,
My interest fading fast,
When suddenly she winks at me,
This saucy sassy lass.
Well I like her. And she likes me!
She's sexy, cool, she's jazz!
So right away, without a word,
Right Click, Save Image As
Yes, that's how me and her came here.
There's nothing more to add.
And if you do not like her
I'm afraid it's Just Too Bad.
15 May 2011
The Lay of the Last Splothrel by Crucigrama
with apologies to Sir Walter Scott
The clues were wrong, the font was bold,
The Splothrel was infirm and old;
His blackish sheep, and fleeces gray,
Seem'd to have known a better day;
The grid, his sole remaining joy,
Writ large upon his iPad toy.
The last of all the Bards was he,
Who tried his hand at poetry;
For, welladay! his cred was fled,
He listened to the Grateful Dead;
And though, neglected and oppress'd,
He would be with them, and at rest.
No more reports of clouds and skies,
Nor songs of birds, or cakes or pies;
No chateaux with their dark retainers,
Garden harvest in sealed containers,
Rich embroidered tapestries,
All splother random as a breeze:
Old times were changed, old manners gone;
A stranger filled the setter's throne;
The bigots commenting in time
Had call'd his harmless art a crime.
A wandering Sploth'rer, scorn'd and poor,
He begg'd his Rs from door to door.
Then just for one last bit of fun,
He bit me firmly on the bum.
The clues were wrong, the font was bold,
The Splothrel was infirm and old;
His blackish sheep, and fleeces gray,
Seem'd to have known a better day;
The grid, his sole remaining joy,
Writ large upon his iPad toy.
The last of all the Bards was he,
Who tried his hand at poetry;
For, welladay! his cred was fled,
He listened to the Grateful Dead;
And though, neglected and oppress'd,
He would be with them, and at rest.
No more reports of clouds and skies,
Nor songs of birds, or cakes or pies;
No chateaux with their dark retainers,
Garden harvest in sealed containers,
Rich embroidered tapestries,
All splother random as a breeze:
Old times were changed, old manners gone;
A stranger filled the setter's throne;
The bigots commenting in time
Had call'd his harmless art a crime.
A wandering Sploth'rer, scorn'd and poor,
He begg'd his Rs from door to door.
Then just for one last bit of fun,
He bit me firmly on the bum.
The Fyodorus by Searogue
"Beware the Fyodor, my son!
The tongue that flicks, the gums that suck!
Beware the taunting trolls, and shun
The slingers with their mud and muck.
He took his verbal sword in hand:
Long time Mallorcan Gal he sought --
So rested he by the Sparclear tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in Fishy thought he stood,
The Fyodor, with eyes of flame,
Came sniffing through the whimsy wood,
And snorted as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The NickWit blade went wicky whack!
Risque, with a double entendre or two
He wiped its bum and dragged it back.
"And, has thou slain the Fyodor?
Come to my arms, my Squeamish boy!
O cryptic day! Hip Hip! Hooray!'
He cackled in his joy.
`Twas the QCC, and the SillyAunts
Did spark and frolic on the page;
All whimsy were the melmoths,
And the searogues were sage
19 September 2011
The tongue that flicks, the gums that suck!
Beware the taunting trolls, and shun
The slingers with their mud and muck.
He took his verbal sword in hand:
Long time Mallorcan Gal he sought --
So rested he by the Sparclear tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in Fishy thought he stood,
The Fyodor, with eyes of flame,
Came sniffing through the whimsy wood,
And snorted as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The NickWit blade went wicky whack!
Risque, with a double entendre or two
He wiped its bum and dragged it back.
"And, has thou slain the Fyodor?
Come to my arms, my Squeamish boy!
O cryptic day! Hip Hip! Hooray!'
He cackled in his joy.
`Twas the QCC, and the SillyAunts
Did spark and frolic on the page;
All whimsy were the melmoths,
And the searogues were sage
19 September 2011
Ode to Having Too Little Crossword Time by Quinquereme
O Norns of All Hours, eternal, most high,
with this supplication I do testify
that my time slot for crosswords is ruefully short,
leaving me knackered, half-ready for morgue.
To cogitate clues even wondrously clear
takes aeons, yet minutes I only can spare.
I once did try out SillyAunt’s Time Machine...
hoping more time it would churn out – but gee!
What a misnomer! Hours I got not, alack.
Just a return to Dark Ages and back.
I fancy more time at the caff would be good...
I’d down a whole herd of Black Sheep, yes I would!
Then dance on the table with Leo the Count,
throwing confetti and clothing about.
My splother most elegant never would stop
till the QCC barman me bedwards would prop.
So come on, ye Norns, we’ll soon Xmastime see
and such a good girl all my life I have been.
Please gift me with loads more of crosswording time
– I’ve spent 24/7 for just this one rhyme.
16 November 2011
with this supplication I do testify
that my time slot for crosswords is ruefully short,
leaving me knackered, half-ready for morgue.
To cogitate clues even wondrously clear
takes aeons, yet minutes I only can spare.
I once did try out SillyAunt’s Time Machine...
hoping more time it would churn out – but gee!
What a misnomer! Hours I got not, alack.
Just a return to Dark Ages and back.
I fancy more time at the caff would be good...
I’d down a whole herd of Black Sheep, yes I would!
Then dance on the table with Leo the Count,
throwing confetti and clothing about.
My splother most elegant never would stop
till the QCC barman me bedwards would prop.
So come on, ye Norns, we’ll soon Xmastime see
and such a good girl all my life I have been.
Please gift me with loads more of crosswording time
– I’ve spent 24/7 for just this one rhyme.
16 November 2011
FerenjiNan
07 December 2014 1:27pm
Lolling snarkily, the setters tippled,
seeking phrases obscure, not ribald.
Frenchies, bon mots, have had their day
Americanisms are here to stay
(gnash teeth with imprecations bitter)
while we sit here, to grin and titter.
Aha! (and so!)
Sub-Continental japes are called for
tongues and raj-isms and so much more,
pukka terms from days gone by.
"Gunga Din!" you hear them cry
as iPad surrealisms jai jai Hind
spread the splother
confuse the grid
bemuse the other
as the boggers bid
to be first
or tenth
or swooping away
on Silly's time machine...
We mustn't use synonyms for fat or stupid,
words for nutter are frowned upon
The fun in word play is nearly gone
but wait! How 'bout
Amore? Lust, and songs of Cupid?
A whole new era could open before us
no more need to diss the Yanks
(for this I'll give tepid thanks)
cry shanti shanti what's the fuss?
tomorrow comes another
quiche? quaalude? qat? quango?
aha! another quickie.
07 December 2014 1:27pm
Lolling snarkily, the setters tippled,
seeking phrases obscure, not ribald.
Frenchies, bon mots, have had their day
Americanisms are here to stay
(gnash teeth with imprecations bitter)
while we sit here, to grin and titter.
Aha! (and so!)
Sub-Continental japes are called for
tongues and raj-isms and so much more,
pukka terms from days gone by.
"Gunga Din!" you hear them cry
as iPad surrealisms jai jai Hind
spread the splother
confuse the grid
bemuse the other
as the boggers bid
to be first
or tenth
or swooping away
on Silly's time machine...
We mustn't use synonyms for fat or stupid,
words for nutter are frowned upon
The fun in word play is nearly gone
but wait! How 'bout
Amore? Lust, and songs of Cupid?
A whole new era could open before us
no more need to diss the Yanks
(for this I'll give tepid thanks)
cry shanti shanti what's the fuss?
tomorrow comes another
quiche? quaalude? qat? quango?
aha! another quickie.
Ode to Bogdan Pilecki by dlodlodl
dlodlodl
22 Jan 2015 9:35am
Oh Boggers, he of mighty brain
Hath been and got in first again!
Thus fury caused and jealousy
In those who lack his mastery.
To those who hobble in his wake
And many a crossie error make
There's naught to do but grin and bear
(Except when caught without our hair)
In which case it seems that you have to make a big fuss and kick and scream.
22 Jan 2015 9:35am
Oh Boggers, he of mighty brain
Hath been and got in first again!
Thus fury caused and jealousy
In those who lack his mastery.
To those who hobble in his wake
And many a crossie error make
There's naught to do but grin and bear
(Except when caught without our hair)
In which case it seems that you have to make a big fuss and kick and scream.
A useful guide to Moderation
The mods are not officious,
vicious or capricious.
Bit if they think
that a mysterious link
might take you somewhere you’ll regret,
a flag is set,
and much as you may hate it
the comment’s moderated.
If they find us crude or rude,
or rather too aggressive.
If copyright we infringe,
or if we binge
on language childish and pathetic,
a flag is set, and much as you may hate it
that comment’s also moderated.
Censorship, or stewardship call it what you will,
they mean no ill,
and after considerable cogitation ,
it’s my belief,
we’ll not come to grief,
if we post with care and consideration.
Another missing Speedy
On Sunday 5th June the Speedy again failed to appear.
Good morning! I’m still labouring an old point here, viz. the late appearance of Sunday’s Speedy. A quip by WolfHome yesterday (…and the Speedy has finally arrived, clutching its head, and muttering about some party it was conned into on attending late Saturday night) set me versifying.
The Speedy Repents
“Oh how my head hurts”, cried the Speedy
and crawled (not hied!) to our view.
“ I’ve never before been so greedy
as to guzzle down what-not and spew.”
“But the party was heigh-ho, and quiptics
did want me to do a dance turn
to outstrip those uppity cryptics,
so I spiralled away and let burn.”
“I woke up too late, that I grant you,
and with whom! I never shall tell.
Let’s just say his first name, it was _
and I gathered he’s somebody swell.”
“Did you miss me at all? Were you bothered?
I must say I'm doubtful on it.
As Sunday wore on, you just splothered,
though I was still out, feeling _ .“
The Speedy Repents
“Oh how my head hurts”, cried the Speedy
and crawled (not hied!) to our view.
“ I’ve never before been so greedy
as to guzzle down what-not and spew.”
“But the party was heigh-ho, and quiptics
did want me to do a dance turn
to outstrip those uppity cryptics,
so I spiralled away and let burn.”
“I woke up too late, that I grant you,
and with whom! I never shall tell.
Let’s just say his first name, it was _
and I gathered he’s somebody swell.”
“Did you miss me at all? Were you bothered?
I must say I'm doubtful on it.
As Sunday wore on, you just splothered,
though I was still out, feeling _ .“
Nine shades of blue
On Tuesday 26 July 2016 the crossword had the word "blue" for nine clues. This provoked a lot of moaning and complaining but also this fine poem.
I don’t know about you,
but I’m in a bit of a stew.
And Angry of Mayfair
is writing to Hugh.
Oh my, oh my,
what a to-do?
And all because
nine clues in the crossword were blue.
They could have been lewd,
one solution was crude.
It don’t bother me, but then I’m not a prude.
No need to say, the setter’s not popular
they’re casting aspersions
not all of them jocular.
Oh deary me, what a to-do,
and all because nine clues in the crossword were blue.
Playfully quaint?
No, they’re saying it ain’t.
If Maggie were here
she’d probably faint.
Did it make their day?
No, no, the setter should pay,
hang their head atonement,
yes now, right this moment!
And all because nine clues in the crossword were blue.
But if there is a feature redeeming
it’s because no one is screaming;
there be nought to embroil us
in disputes
about spoilers,
and all because,
yes, I tell you it’s true,
nine of clues in the crossword were blue.
but I’m in a bit of a stew.
And Angry of Mayfair
is writing to Hugh.
Oh my, oh my,
what a to-do?
And all because
nine clues in the crossword were blue.
They could have been lewd,
one solution was crude.
It don’t bother me, but then I’m not a prude.
No need to say, the setter’s not popular
they’re casting aspersions
not all of them jocular.
Oh deary me, what a to-do,
and all because nine clues in the crossword were blue.
Playfully quaint?
No, they’re saying it ain’t.
If Maggie were here
she’d probably faint.
Did it make their day?
No, no, the setter should pay,
hang their head atonement,
yes now, right this moment!
And all because nine clues in the crossword were blue.
But if there is a feature redeeming
it’s because no one is screaming;
there be nought to embroil us
in disputes
about spoilers,
and all because,
yes, I tell you it’s true,
nine of clues in the crossword were blue.
Top of the Crossword by SqueezyMarmiteFan
***To the tune of "Top of the World" by The Carpenters***
Such a feelin's comin' over me
There is wonder in The Guardian's QCC
With all the gals and the guys, it comes as no surprise
It's the most pleasant place in which to be
Johnny Solstice wants the world to be
Filled with solo love, and our MisspellAny
Says the reason she is here, is to fix what we hold dear
And to cheshirecheese07, that’s a dream
I'm on the, top of the crossword, talking down to Sunny
And antje finds it funny I do hear
And the crossword I've done and now owe EPT on
Your love's (anag) (9) put me at the top of the world
Cuttle, jinx and our Rapscallion
Superbalist cruciverbalist expat alan
Monkeyjammas in the trees, Spanishscot's got the keys
Gastrick bunsen with his goat-based punnery
Now I've got that Wolfhome on my mind
When this day is through I hope that I will find
That he's written I see, some lovely prose so expertly
All I need will be mine if fyodora's here
I'm on the top of the crossword talking to Phil McCheddar
And his avatar is better than is mine
And Seasal I have found on her ship has run aground
Your love's (slang) (9) put me at the top of the world
I'm on the top of the crossword laughing at starrock
And it's only Kalundborg that I can see
MrsMatisse on her chaise longue, thinks she's done nothing wrong
But your laugh's (abbrev) (9) put me at the top of the world
Such a feelin's comin' over me
There is wonder in The Guardian's QCC
With all the gals and the guys, it comes as no surprise
It's the most pleasant place in which to be
Johnny Solstice wants the world to be
Filled with solo love, and our MisspellAny
Says the reason she is here, is to fix what we hold dear
And to cheshirecheese07, that’s a dream
I'm on the, top of the crossword, talking down to Sunny
And antje finds it funny I do hear
And the crossword I've done and now owe EPT on
Your love's (anag) (9) put me at the top of the world
Cuttle, jinx and our Rapscallion
Superbalist cruciverbalist expat alan
Monkeyjammas in the trees, Spanishscot's got the keys
Gastrick bunsen with his goat-based punnery
Now I've got that Wolfhome on my mind
When this day is through I hope that I will find
That he's written I see, some lovely prose so expertly
All I need will be mine if fyodora's here
I'm on the top of the crossword talking to Phil McCheddar
And his avatar is better than is mine
And Seasal I have found on her ship has run aground
Your love's (slang) (9) put me at the top of the world
I'm on the top of the crossword laughing at starrock
And it's only Kalundborg that I can see
MrsMatisse on her chaise longue, thinks she's done nothing wrong
But your laugh's (abbrev) (9) put me at the top of the world
For Cole Porter by Fyodora
fyodora
30 Sep 2016 13:34
For Cole Porter, who could do it better than anyone
Fill in your crossword,
Start solving it now;
Get stuck in with the crossword,
(I've a book that tells you how);
Take your time or have a quick dip,
You might even try the cryptic
But complete that crossword
And smugly take a bow!
Stand by for spoilers.
Wag your fingers today;
Because regular crossword toilers
Hate to have the game given away;
Some digits are wagged unabated,
I'm surprised they've not been dislocated,
So stand by, you boylers and goilers.
And just mind what you say!
Quick crossword No 14,540 by WolfHome
This crossword prompted Wolfie's fine poem below.
If you think government by the wealthy
is not particularly healthy,
or think it unattractive
while you rest there, sessile, unreactive.
If you’re extremely conscientious
but find the clues contentious,
if you’re averse, or worse,
to two successive lines of verse,
if you think what functions wouldn’t work
or the colloquial saying is, more accurately, a cultural quirk,
if you’re brassed off with the heavy open wagon,
or pestered by an excessively ingratiating dragon,
if you clamour
for glamour,
if you need to stop temporarily, or you find a flaw,
if the whole of the crossword gets stuck in your craw:
calm down, relax,
be suave: chillax!
is not particularly healthy,
or think it unattractive
while you rest there, sessile, unreactive.
If you’re extremely conscientious
but find the clues contentious,
if you’re averse, or worse,
to two successive lines of verse,
if you think what functions wouldn’t work
or the colloquial saying is, more accurately, a cultural quirk,
if you’re brassed off with the heavy open wagon,
or pestered by an excessively ingratiating dragon,
if you clamour
for glamour,
if you need to stop temporarily, or you find a flaw,
if the whole of the crossword gets stuck in your craw:
calm down, relax,
be suave: chillax!
Happy Valentine's Day to Us by fannyadam
fannyadam
14 Feb 2017 15:19
Wandering, lonely as a cloud,
I met some splothered daffodil
Garlanding their heads and hair
With names most strange and shrill
A woman with badge and birthday glow
Offered some Enlightenment. Ah! Yes, said she,
Seek Mispellany. Both Payne and Wordsworth
She doth know.
Beside the lake, beneath the trees
A single sunflower danced in the breeze
Ah Ha! Said I, Do I espy
A misfit just like me?
No Way! Jose! said she,
One arm around a Spanish friend.
We crossword, therefore we are, persons of some worth.
All of us, whether ‘In’ or ‘Out’.
Then, thousands saw I at a glance,
Tossing their comments in sprightly dance.
The World’s Woes danced beside them too
But they out-did those tweets with glee.
I gazed and gazed but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought.
But now, I add a timely accolade,
For, in such company, are poets not made?
EPT by Suckspencil
I'm frequently in the offing
And drop in now and again
Lately the crozzie's seemed pretty tough
And I've had to cudgel my brain
But this was so easy-peasy
So huh! So hum! So ho!
That I couldn't resist that comment.
Tell Spansco I'll forward the dough
In the meantime, here's a downpayment. Think 11a.
And drop in now and again
Lately the crozzie's seemed pretty tough
And I've had to cudgel my brain
But this was so easy-peasy
So huh! So hum! So ho!
That I couldn't resist that comment.
Tell Spansco I'll forward the dough
In the meantime, here's a downpayment. Think 11a.
The Lurker in the Dark by Cuttle
Amidst the swirls of darkling deep,
the setter stalks its prey.
I know full well the object is
to stay me from my sleep.
I peer into the trap that's set.
That noun's a verb, I know,
and adjectives are nouns it seems,
my appetite to whet.
Clues are reeling round my head,
but I will find the way.
Through labyrinths of thought I go
with Ariadne's thread.
I find the setter of the night,
hooved and horned and tailed,
stamping, snorting in its lair.
Yet I will not take fright.
When slang and idioms bat-like soar,
in caverns black as night,
trip with me to that new dawn,
for I did slay the Minotaur.
the setter stalks its prey.
I know full well the object is
to stay me from my sleep.
I peer into the trap that's set.
That noun's a verb, I know,
and adjectives are nouns it seems,
my appetite to whet.
Clues are reeling round my head,
but I will find the way.
Through labyrinths of thought I go
with Ariadne's thread.
I find the setter of the night,
hooved and horned and tailed,
stamping, snorting in its lair.
Yet I will not take fright.
When slang and idioms bat-like soar,
in caverns black as night,
trip with me to that new dawn,
for I did slay the Minotaur.
BTL by MuncasterMonkey
revved right through
sporting a spoiler
still doing leaded
everything over inflated
statnav when lost for words
no spare typo
FM in the AM
going too quick
for sharp clued curves
hit 60, 70, 80
but in all my born daze
never heard that word
don’t split infinitives
really like definitives
often do derivatives
and for a change pejoratives
I see your wrong
and put it right
in writing for the rest
‘cos I can do better
than the setter
and I know the letter
you cocked up in your post
but I’ll ? you or ! you
‘cos I enjoy that most
no it’s not vainglorious
to be so censorious
and you should be grateful
I’m here to be helpful
my sarcasm orgasm
splattered in the splother
with all the talent I have
why do you even bother?
sporting a spoiler
still doing leaded
everything over inflated
statnav when lost for words
no spare typo
FM in the AM
going too quick
for sharp clued curves
hit 60, 70, 80
but in all my born daze
never heard that word
don’t split infinitives
really like definitives
often do derivatives
and for a change pejoratives
I see your wrong
and put it right
in writing for the rest
‘cos I can do better
than the setter
and I know the letter
you cocked up in your post
but I’ll ? you or ! you
‘cos I enjoy that most
no it’s not vainglorious
to be so censorious
and you should be grateful
I’m here to be helpful
my sarcasm orgasm
splattered in the splother
with all the talent I have
why do you even bother?
A fantastic Spoiler by sanjaybhuckory
On 28 December, 2019 a new poster wrote a beautiful poem that contained a lot of the answers to the crossword. Spoiler objectors chased him/her off and hasn't been seen since. The poem was modded, but at least it was saved here.
sanjaybhuckory
28 Dec 2019 05:48
34I felt instantly ATTRACTED
By her striking CHARM
She was in a LOUNGE position
Like mythical SCULPTURE
From the AEGEAN SEA
I had a good EYEFUL of her
She was so COMELY
She was so CATCHY
That RACY thoughts took over me
I wished I were the ELDEST heir to her heart throne
My desire for her became so ARDENT
That I felt I should seek her ASSENT
I don’t mean the STATUTORY one
How can I THAW her coldness?
Should I be as bold as a BOAR?
Or should I be graceful as a STAG?
There can be no room for FRUGALITY
I feel MORTIFIED at the thought
Of playing on her TURF
Would she have some RUTH for me?
Or would I have to ENDURE her JEER
And pop my CLOGS
My passion for her still burns like a MYRRH
Should I call an AMBULANCE?
To take me to the burns UNIT?
sanjaybhuckory
28 Dec 2019 05:48
34I felt instantly ATTRACTED
By her striking CHARM
She was in a LOUNGE position
Like mythical SCULPTURE
From the AEGEAN SEA
I had a good EYEFUL of her
She was so COMELY
She was so CATCHY
That RACY thoughts took over me
I wished I were the ELDEST heir to her heart throne
My desire for her became so ARDENT
That I felt I should seek her ASSENT
I don’t mean the STATUTORY one
How can I THAW her coldness?
Should I be as bold as a BOAR?
Or should I be graceful as a STAG?
There can be no room for FRUGALITY
I feel MORTIFIED at the thought
Of playing on her TURF
Would she have some RUTH for me?
Or would I have to ENDURE her JEER
And pop my CLOGS
My passion for her still burns like a MYRRH
Should I call an AMBULANCE?
To take me to the burns UNIT?
Cross words by Chrisbrown
Some come here to grouse and bitch,
others come to scratch an itch
but who am I to cock a snook
or bring another’s flaws to book,
with faults and foibles of my own
enough to pay off all my loans?
But why do some berate the setter
when they could surely do no better?
Some find themselves at a total loss
these foreign words and all such dross
must be swept out from the sty,
the good Queen’s English purified.
This French and German has to stop,
colonial words we can’t adopt.
Where will we find ourselves if not?
with Greek and Latin and that lot.
Even Shakespeare had his lapses
so editors twisted their synapses
to make a pole ax from a Pole
and smote the ice but left it whole.
And that Dane Hamlet, such a bore,
can bugger off back to Elsinore.
It’s clear as mud. We need to muck
this stable out and when we’re stuck
for a word, we’ll just grab the nearest.
Away with the crud and let the clearest
language flow, ye gods and fishhooks
we’ll rid the tongue of words from books,
and archaisms, and Brexit knows,
we’ll root out foreign words as foes
and forbid all ungoods like tobacco,
tomato, paprika and potato,
those words that smell of foreign blood,
or call them apples or just plain spud.
Coda
Now that we’ve reformed the grid
and got rid of quo as well as quid
There’s nothing much left in the squares
to catch the English unawares
and nowt’s so daft as dialect
and all mod slang we will reject
and once we have reformed the clews
there’ll be no words left to confuse.
And without dark clews to spoil the light
the crossword then will be all white.
others come to scratch an itch
but who am I to cock a snook
or bring another’s flaws to book,
with faults and foibles of my own
enough to pay off all my loans?
But why do some berate the setter
when they could surely do no better?
Some find themselves at a total loss
these foreign words and all such dross
must be swept out from the sty,
the good Queen’s English purified.
This French and German has to stop,
colonial words we can’t adopt.
Where will we find ourselves if not?
with Greek and Latin and that lot.
Even Shakespeare had his lapses
so editors twisted their synapses
to make a pole ax from a Pole
and smote the ice but left it whole.
And that Dane Hamlet, such a bore,
can bugger off back to Elsinore.
It’s clear as mud. We need to muck
this stable out and when we’re stuck
for a word, we’ll just grab the nearest.
Away with the crud and let the clearest
language flow, ye gods and fishhooks
we’ll rid the tongue of words from books,
and archaisms, and Brexit knows,
we’ll root out foreign words as foes
and forbid all ungoods like tobacco,
tomato, paprika and potato,
those words that smell of foreign blood,
or call them apples or just plain spud.
Coda
Now that we’ve reformed the grid
and got rid of quo as well as quid
There’s nothing much left in the squares
to catch the English unawares
and nowt’s so daft as dialect
and all mod slang we will reject
and once we have reformed the clews
there’ll be no words left to confuse.
And without dark clews to spoil the light
the crossword then will be all white.
Quand vous serez bien vieille by Pierre de Ronsard
This poem has nothing to do with the crossword but it was posted by WilliamLongland and sarriete asked for it to be kept here so that we can find it again.
Quand vous serez bien vieille, au soir, à la chandelle,
Assise auprès du feu, dévidant et filant,
Direz, chantant mes vers, en vous émerveillant :
Ronsard me célébrait du temps que j’étais belle.
Lors, vous n’aurez servante oyant telle nouvelle,
Déjà sous le labeur à demi sommeillant,
Qui au bruit de mon nom ne s’aille réveillant,
Bénissant votre nom de louange immortelle.
Je serai sous la terre et fantôme sans os :
Par les ombres myrteux je prendrai mon repos :
Vous serez au foyer une vieille accroupie,
Regrettant mon amour et votre fier dédain.
Vivez, si m’en croyez, n’attendez à demain :
Cueillez dès aujourd’hui les roses de la vie.
Pierre de Ronsard, Sonnets pour Hélène, 1578
Quand vous serez bien vieille, au soir, à la chandelle,
Assise auprès du feu, dévidant et filant,
Direz, chantant mes vers, en vous émerveillant :
Ronsard me célébrait du temps que j’étais belle.
Lors, vous n’aurez servante oyant telle nouvelle,
Déjà sous le labeur à demi sommeillant,
Qui au bruit de mon nom ne s’aille réveillant,
Bénissant votre nom de louange immortelle.
Je serai sous la terre et fantôme sans os :
Par les ombres myrteux je prendrai mon repos :
Vous serez au foyer une vieille accroupie,
Regrettant mon amour et votre fier dédain.
Vivez, si m’en croyez, n’attendez à demain :
Cueillez dès aujourd’hui les roses de la vie.
Pierre de Ronsard, Sonnets pour Hélène, 1578
The Nipper Laughs, by SeamusMcG
A 6d of my blessed life:
THE NIPPER LAUGHS
The prince of restless
outruns patience
every undull day,
and footstamps
frustrating quietude.
He deep delights
a deeper joy
of radiant reality.
Uncomplex, inviolable;
like new-discovered sunshine.
No mere music of heaven
compares to his ticklish,
unscratched belly-laugh.
For me, being a father and granda is the most profound alchemy. Hello to everyone who seeks the light, and the laughter.
21 June 2020
THE NIPPER LAUGHS
The prince of restless
outruns patience
every undull day,
and footstamps
frustrating quietude.
He deep delights
a deeper joy
of radiant reality.
Uncomplex, inviolable;
like new-discovered sunshine.
No mere music of heaven
compares to his ticklish,
unscratched belly-laugh.
For me, being a father and granda is the most profound alchemy. Hello to everyone who seeks the light, and the laughter.
21 June 2020
1A. A Religious song of praise to The Caff by Susanhenna
All things bright and beautiful
All posters great and small
Including Strange, and Ticklish
Must try to love them all
Each niggly, wriggly wordster
Each snipe and spoileroo
The Custom and Observance
Is to try and love them too?
The poets and musicians
The felines and the wits
We Look Up to their chefs d'oevres
Find Comfort in their skits
The posts that entertain us
That teach, that preach, inform
The Prim and Proper virtuous type
They all become the norm
All things bright and beautiful
All posters great and small
We hope no need to Ban, Confine.
The grid's our Port of Call
Each day upon awakening
The gems that have made sense
Bring us the laughter and the light
With joy and eloquence.
refrain: All things bright and beautiful .... etc
All posters great and small
Including Strange, and Ticklish
Must try to love them all
Each niggly, wriggly wordster
Each snipe and spoileroo
The Custom and Observance
Is to try and love them too?
The poets and musicians
The felines and the wits
We Look Up to their chefs d'oevres
Find Comfort in their skits
The posts that entertain us
That teach, that preach, inform
The Prim and Proper virtuous type
They all become the norm
All things bright and beautiful
All posters great and small
We hope no need to Ban, Confine.
The grid's our Port of Call
Each day upon awakening
The gems that have made sense
Bring us the laughter and the light
With joy and eloquence.
refrain: All things bright and beautiful .... etc
In praise of the setters by Muncastermonkey
Oh great compiler!
Compounder of words
Destroyer of egos
Confounder of thought
Hear our prayer
(And don’t forget all my libations of yesterday)
((Which I would have shared had you been here))
Your crosswords should be challenging
Make it so
But not too difficult
Make it so
And not too general knowledge
Make it so
But facty enough for debate
Make it so
International in outlook
Make it so
Except when it comes to ‘British’
Make it so
Encourage wit and insight
Make it so
Discourage little shittish
Make it so
Oh great pricker of pomposity
Silent judge of verbosity
Dark-splintering luminosity
Ruler of checks and revelations
Dispenser of irritations
Garnerer of ingratiations
Bring to mighty mind
Goldilocks and the Three Bears
make crosswords of the kind
That are just right
Always and forever
For everyone
(Except those who really deserve a pissing off)
((Further libations to follow))
Amenandwomen.
Compounder of words
Destroyer of egos
Confounder of thought
Hear our prayer
(And don’t forget all my libations of yesterday)
((Which I would have shared had you been here))
Your crosswords should be challenging
Make it so
But not too difficult
Make it so
And not too general knowledge
Make it so
But facty enough for debate
Make it so
International in outlook
Make it so
Except when it comes to ‘British’
Make it so
Encourage wit and insight
Make it so
Discourage little shittish
Make it so
Oh great pricker of pomposity
Silent judge of verbosity
Dark-splintering luminosity
Ruler of checks and revelations
Dispenser of irritations
Garnerer of ingratiations
Bring to mighty mind
Goldilocks and the Three Bears
make crosswords of the kind
That are just right
Always and forever
For everyone
(Except those who really deserve a pissing off)
((Further libations to follow))
Amenandwomen.
The perfect grid by Chris Brown
The perfect grid to please each one,
the one that's dusted but never done.
Sprinkled with stardust, gold or dew,
Anagrammatic and perfectly new.
But how do you please those who quibble?
Give em the bait and watch em nibble.
the one that's dusted but never done.
Sprinkled with stardust, gold or dew,
Anagrammatic and perfectly new.
But how do you please those who quibble?
Give em the bait and watch em nibble.
The crossword
In squares of black and white they lie,
A puzzle, waiting 'neath the sky.
Cryptic clues, a subtle art,
Unraveling minds, a work of heart.
Across, a journey, left to right,
Words emerge, like morning light.
Downward paths, a different view,
A lexicon, both old and new.
Each box a challenge, a coded gate,
To minds engaged in pensive state.
Synonyms and hidden gems,
In patterns, life's enigma stems.
A dance of letters, sharp and clear,
A mental waltz, a quest sincere.
A crossword's world, a world of lore,
Where language blooms, forever more.
So let the ink flow, let thoughts ignite,
In crossword's realm, minds take flight.
A tapestry of words, refined,
In grids of wisdom, souls entwined.
A puzzle, waiting 'neath the sky.
Cryptic clues, a subtle art,
Unraveling minds, a work of heart.
Across, a journey, left to right,
Words emerge, like morning light.
Downward paths, a different view,
A lexicon, both old and new.
Each box a challenge, a coded gate,
To minds engaged in pensive state.
Synonyms and hidden gems,
In patterns, life's enigma stems.
A dance of letters, sharp and clear,
A mental waltz, a quest sincere.
A crossword's world, a world of lore,
Where language blooms, forever more.
So let the ink flow, let thoughts ignite,
In crossword's realm, minds take flight.
A tapestry of words, refined,
In grids of wisdom, souls entwined.