The Special Category

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An optional explanation about the anagram in green, the subject is in black, the anagram is in red.

901


AMERICAN TUNE
By
Simon and Garfunkel

Many's the time I've been mistaken, and many times confused
Yes and I've often felt forsaken, and certainly misused
Ah but I'm alright, I'm alright, I'm just weary through my bones
Still you don't expect to be bright and bon-vivant
So far away from home, so far away from home

And I don't know a soul who's not been battered
I don't have a friend who feels at ease
I don't know a dream that's not been shattered or driven to its knees
But it's alright, it's alright, for we live so well, so long
Still, when I think of the road we're travelling on
I wonder what's gone wrong, I can't help it I wonder what's gone wrong

And I dreamed I was dying, I dreamed that my soul rose unexpectedly
And looking back down at me, smiled reassuringly
And I dreamed I was flying, and high up above my eyes could clearly see
The Statue of Liberty, sailing away to sea, and I dreamed I was flying

But we come on a ship they called Mayflower
We come on a ship that sailed the moon
We come in the age's most uncertain hours and sing an American tune
And it's alright, oh it's alright, it's alright, you can be forever blessed
Still tomorrow's gonna be another working day and I'm trying to get some rest
That's all I'm trying, to get some rest


BRITISH LAMENT
By
An Old Man (Anon)

Many's the time I've been heartbroken, and many times in tears,
I confess new sadness has awoken in my declining years.
My fine nation, my fine nation, what has become of you?
Most of the many things I loved in this pleasant land,
Are gone and out of view, all gone and out of view.

For the young men who died to keep Britain free,
We made statues to commemorate,
But those symbols of wartime bravery, fools choose to desecrate;
But it's alright, we're British, and we're tolerant to cruel men,
Yet, when I think of what Britain has become,
I wonder how it'll end, my God, I wonder how it'll end.

I was dreaming again last night, I dreamt my country stood big and strong,
That our Government was united and chose right over wrong,
And I dreamt my grandchildren grew up safe from harm after I'd gone,
That good ruled over evil; but I woke up later on, so sad it had been a dream.

Mighty juggernauts still keep rolling along,
And traffic's clogging the motorways,
So we make extra roads and houses and slice the countryside away,
Till the wildlife's all extinguished, strangled as tarmac invades,
And our island sinks beneath the weight, yet still we manage to simply say:
It's all okay, we're British. Yes, it's all okay.


902


Reasons To Be Cheerful Part Three
(Ian Dury and The Blockheads)

Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?

Reasons to be cheerful - part three
One, two, three...

Summer, Buddy Holly, the working folly
Good Golly Miss Molly, and boats,
Hammersmith Palais, the Bolshoi Ballet,
Jump back in the alley, and nanny goats,
Eighteen-wheeler Scammells, Dominecker camels
All other mammals, plus equal votes
Seeing Piccadilly, Fanny Smith and Willie
Being rather silly, and porridge oats
A bit of grin and bear it, a bit of come and share it,
You're welcome we can spare it, yellow socks,
Too short to be haughty, too nutty to be naughty,
Going on forty, no electric shocks
The juice of a carrot, the smile of a parrot,
A little drop of claret, anything that rocks
Elvis and Scotty, the days when I ain't spotty,
Sitting on a potty, curing smallpox.

Reasons to be cheerful part three
Reasons to be cheerful part three
Reasons to be cheerful part three
Reasons to be cheerful - one two three

Reasons to be cheerful - part three

Health service glasses, gigolos and brasses
Round or skinny bottoms
Take your mum to Paris, lighting up a chalice
Wee Willie Harris
Bantu Steven Biko, listening to Rico
Harpo Groucho Chico
Cheddar cheese and pickle, a Vincent motorcycle,
Slap and tickle.

Woody Allen, Dali, Dmitri and Pasquale
Balla balla balla and Volare
Something nice to study, phoning up a buddy
Being in my nuddy
Saying okeydokey, singalonga Smokey
Coming out o' chokey
John Coltrane's soprano, Adie Celentano
Bonar Colleano

Reasons to be cheerful part three
Reasons to be cheerful part three
Reasons to be cheerful part three
Reasons to be cheerful - one two three

Yes, yes - dear, dear
Perhaps next year
Or maybe even never
In which case...

Woody Allen, Dali, Dimitri and Pasquale
Balla balla balla and Volare
Something nice to study, phoning up a buddy
Being in my nuddy

Saying okeydokey, sing-a-long a Smokey
Coming out o' chokey
John Coltrane's soprano, Adie Celentano
Bonar Colleano

Reasons to be cheerful part three
Reasons to be cheerful part three
Reasons to be cheerful part three
Reasons to be cheerful - one two three...

Reasons...

Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?

Reasons to be cheerful part three
Reasons to be cheerful part three
Reasons to be cheerful part three
Reasons to be cheerful - one two three...

Reasons to be cheerful part three
Reasons to be cheerful part three
Reasons to be cheerful part three
Reasons to be cheerful - one two three...


Reasons To Be Cheerful
(Part Three)

Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?

Reasons to be cheerful - one, two, three...

Donald Trump's silly wig,
David Cameron on a pig,
Got one bloody point at Eurovision,
Tony Blair, at last in prison.

Being fired on The Apprentice,
Being Rylan Clark-Neal's dentist,
A penalty shootout, and volleyball,
Gemma Collins' on-ice fall.

Rami Malek, Queen Freddie,
Rush - Alex, Neil and Geddy,
Hamilton, cool in qualifying,
Wayne Rooney, Jussie Smollett lying.

Eight and twelve-string Rickenbackers,
So cheap at only three-thousand smackers,
The Who's phenomenal Pete and Roger,
Status Quo, Caitlyn's todger.

Supervet animal prosthetics,
The Invicta Games athletics,
European Union - leaving, maybe?
A cherubic black royal baby.

Ginger Rogers, Fred Astaire,
Emma Watson's derriere,
Narcotics, toadstools, LSD, "E",
Serious Jockin'...with no G.

A cockatoo, a parakeet,
Duke of Edinburgh, Sesame Street,
Basil and Sybil, Andy and Florrie,
Hilda Ogden, lesbians on Corrie.

Monocles, top hats, cravats,
Bob Geldof and the Boomtown Rats,
Adie Pena, Cheech and Chong,
Yoko Ono in full song.

Sully's plane getting ditched,
Miley Cyrus getting hitched,
Monty Python, a Bronx cheer,
Edward Woodward onomatopoeia.

Lily Allen, Wills and Katy,
Ian Hunter...almost eighty!
Mott The Hoople, Stacey Dooley,
A trophy blonde, any girl called Julie.

Balalaikas (banjo, Greek),
Schoolboy humour, Mock The Week,
Sloppy seconds, hot cocoa, Turkish Delight,
Rumpy-pumpy every night.

Stolly Bolly, scotch, and gin,
Annual holiday, lying in,
Cheap tobacco, Yo-Yo Ma,
A colossal hashcake, and A-Ha.

Healthy cooking by my mum,
Dolly's peachy breasts, Kim's bum,
A Tony C. anagram in the Mail, daily,
Or one unbeatable Israeli!

Reasons to be cheerful, part three
Reasons to be cheerful, part three
Reasons to be cheerful, part three
Reasons to be cheerful, - one two three...

Reasons to be cheerful, part three
Reasons to be cheerful, part three
Reasons to be cheerful, part three
Reasons to be cheerful - one two three...

Reasons to be cheerful, part three
Reasons to be cheerful, part three
Reasons to be cheerful, part three
Reasons to be cheerful - one two three...

Reasons...

Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?
Why don't you get back into bed?

Reasons to be cheerful, part three
Reasons to be cheerful, part three
Reasons to be cheerful, part three
Reasons to be cheerful - one two three...

Reasons to be cheerful, part three
Reasons to be cheerful, part three
Reasons to be cheerful, part three
Reasons to be cheerful - one two three...


903

[Anagram of a poem with a graphical constraint in the form of a statement from the author ]


Knowledge
A concise poem that is written by Louise Bogan.

Now that I know
How passion warms little
Of flesh in the mould,
And treasure is brittle—

I'll lie here and learn
How, over their ground,
Trees make a long shadow
And a light sound.


Ah, Huge Wisdom Perpetuate Here!

I'm to grow in mind
If now onto learning,
And to show understanding,
We cannot be blind.

The dolorous will see
That all should like this
Takes sorrow with a kiss—
Learn to call thee free!

By Simeon Galavar.

[What is the wisest animal known to humans? The owl. And what does the word "owl" start with? The letter O.]

Ah, Huge Wisdom Perpetuate Here!

I'm to grow in mind
If now onto learning,
And to show understanding,
We cannot be blind.

The dolorous will see
That all should like this
Takes sorrow with a kiss—
Learn to call thee free!

By Simeon Galavar.


[Here we have a heart (a symbol for love and appreciation) and a question mark (a symbol for curiosity), representing elements I believe a wise person would have: love and curiosity ;)]


904


Twenty-Seven of the Many Emotions People Feel, But Can't Explain
From "The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows", the YouTube compendium of vocabulary words invented by John Koenig

* Sonder
A realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own - populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness - an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you never knew existed, in which you might appear only once, as the extra of a film sipping coffee in the background, a blur of traffic passing on the highway, or that lighted window at dusk.

* Opia
The intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable - their pupils glittering, bottomless and opaque - as if you were peering through the hole in the door of a house, able to tell that there’s someone standing there, but unable to tell if you’re looking in or looking out.

* Monachopsis
The subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place, as maladapted to your surroundings as a seal on a beach - lumbering, clumsy, easily distracted, huddled in the company of other poor misfits, not able to recognize the ambient roar of your intended habitat, in which you’d be fluidly, brilliantly, effortlessly at home.

* Énouement
The bittersweetness of having arrived here in the future, where you can finally get the answers to how things turn out in the real world - who your little sister would become, what vocations your friends would end up having, where your choices would finally lead you, exactly when you’d lose the people you took for granted - which is priceless intelligence that you'd instinctively want to share with anyone who hadn’t already made the journey, as if there was some part of you that had volunteered to stay behind, that was still stationed at a forgotten outpost somewhere in the past, still eagerly awaiting news from the front.

* Vellichor
The strange wistfulness of used bookshops - filled to the brim with thousands of old used books you'll never have enough time to read, each of which is itself locked in its own era, bound and dated and plastered over like an old room the author abandoned many years ago, a hidden annex littered with thoughts left just like they were on the day they were captured.

* Rubatosis
The unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat, whose tenuous muscular throbbing feels less like a metronome than a ditty your heart is nervously tapping to itself, the kind that people compulsively hum or sing while walking in total darkness, as if to remind the outside world, "I’m here, I’m here, I'm here, I'm here."

* Kenopsia
The eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that’s usually bustling with people but is now abandoned, quiet, and forgotten - a school hallway in the evening, an office unlit for the weekend, vacant fairgrounds - an emotional afterimage that makes it seem not just empty but hyper-empty, with total population in the negative, who are so conspicuously absent they glow like neon signs.

* Mauerbauertraurigkeit
The inexplicable urge to push people away from you, even close friends you really like - as if all your social tastebuds suddenly went numb, leaving you unable to distinguish cheap politeness from the taste of genuine affection, unable to recognize its rich and ambiguous flavors, its long and delicate maturation, or the simple fact that each tasting is double-blind.

* Jouska
The hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head - a clear analysis, a cathartic dialogue, a devastating comeback - which serves as the kind of psychological batting cage where you can connect more deeply with people than in the small ball of everyday life, a frustratingly cautious game of change-up pitches, sacrifice bunts, and intentional walks.

* Chrysalism
The amniotic tranquility of safely being indoors during a thunderstorm. Listening to the waves of rain pattering against the roof like an argument upstairs, whose muffled words are unintelligible but whose crackling release of built-up tension you understand perfectly.

* Vemödalen
The frustration of photographing something amazing when thousands of identical photos already exist - the same sunset, the same high waterfall, the same curve of a hip, the same closeup of an eye - which can turn a perfectly unique subject into something hollow and pulpy, like a cheap piece of furniture you have had to assemble yourself.

* Anecdoche
The conversation in which everyone is talking but nobody is listening, simply overlaying disconnected words like a game of Scrabble, with each player borrowing bits of other anecdotes as a way to increase their own score, until they all run out of things to say.

* Kuebiko
The state of exhaustion inspired by acts of senseless violence, which force you to revise your image of what can happen in this world - mending the fences of your expectations, weeding out all unwelcome and invasive truths, cultivating the perennial good that’s buried under the surface, and propping yourself up like an old scarecrow, who’s bursting at the seams but powerless to do anything but stand there and watch.

* Exulansis
The tendency to give up trying to talk about your experience because people are unable to relate to it - whether through envy or pity or simple foreignness, which allows it to drift away from the rest of your life story, until the memory itself feels out of place, almost mythical, wandering restlessly in the fog, no longer even looking for a place to land.


* Ellipsism
An unexplainable sadness that you'll never be able to know how history will turn out, that you will dutifully pass on the joke of being alive without ever learning the punchline - the name of the beneficiary of all human struggle, the final payout sum of every investment ever made in the future - which may not suit your sense of humor anyway, and which will probably involve how many people it would take to change a lightbulb.

* Lachesism
An unaccountable desire to be struck by cataclysmic circumstances - to survive a plane crash in a storm's gusts, to lose everything of value in a house fire, to plunge downward over a mountain waterfall - which would put a substantial kink in the smooth arc of your life, and twist it into something hardened and flexible and sharp, not just a stiff prefabricated beam that barely covers the gap between one end of your life and the other.

* Adronitis
A frustration with how long it takes to get to know someone, spending the first few weeks in conscious distress, hobnobbing in their psychological entryway, with each subsequent conversation like entering a different anteroom, with each discussion a little closer to the center of the house - wishing instead that you could start there, in uninhibited pillowtalk, and work your way outward, exchanging your deepest secrets first, before easing into a social casualness, until you've built up enough acceptable mystery to ask where they came from and what they do for a living.

* Rückkehrunruhe
That feeling of wistfulness upon returning home after an immersive trip, only to find that it is all fading rapidly from your awareness - to the extent that you have to keep reminding yourself that it had happened at all, even though it felt so vivid just hours ago - which makes you wish you could smoothly cross-dissolve back into everyday life, or just hold the camera shutter open indefinitely and let one scene become superimposed on the next, so all the days would run together and you would never have to call 'cut'.

* Nodus Tollens
An anticlimactic realization that the plot of your life doesn't make sense any more, that although you thought you were following the story in anticipation, you keep finding yourself out of whack, immersed in passages you don’t understand, that don’t even seem to belong to the same genre. This requires you to go back to reread and assess the chapters you had originally skipped to get to the good parts, just to learn that all along you were supposed to choose your own adventure.

* Onism
Awareness of how little of the world you'll actually experience; the dissociated frustration of being stuck in just one body, that inhabits only one place at a time. Imagine standing in front of the departures screen at the airport, watching it flicker with strange place names, as if they were people's passwords, each one representing one more place you will never get to before you die - and all because, as the arrow on the map helpfully points out, 'You are Here'.

* Liberosis
An inexplicable desire to care less about things. To loosen your grip on your life, to stop glancing behind you every couple steps, afraid that someone swifter will snatch the ball, or you will fumble, before you reach the end zone - rather to hold your life loosely and playfully, like a volleyball, keeping it in the air, with only quick running interventions, bouncing freely in the hands of trusted friends, always in play.

* Altschmerz
Feeling weariness with the same tedious issues, same boring flaws and anxieties that you've been voraciously gnawing at for years, which leaves them soggy, wet, tasteless and inert, with nothing interesting left to think about, nothing left to do but spit them out and wander off to the backyard, as a puppy, to dig up that fresher pain you might have buried some time ago.

* Occhiolism
Philosophical awareness of the smallness of your perspective, by which you couldn’t possibly draw any meaningful conclusions at all, about the world or the past or the complexities of culture, because although your life is an epic and unrepeatable anecdote, it still only has a sample size of one, and may end up being the control for a much wilder experiment happening in the next room.

* Heartworm
A relationship or friendship that you can't get out of your head, which you thought had faded long ago but is still somehow alive and unfinished, like an abandoned campsite's smoldering embers at dawn, which still have enough power to start a forest fire.

* Anemoia
Nostalgia about a time you've never known. Imagine stepping through a frame into a distant passageway, a sepia-tinted haze, where you could sit beside a road and watch local passersby, who lived and died before any of us arrived here, who sleep in some of the same houses we do, who look up to see the same spectacular moon, who breathe the same air, feel the same blood in their veins - and live in a completely different world.

* Morii
Desire to capture and cling to a fleeting experience. With each click of the shutter, you try to press pause on your life's busyness, in a world stuck on play - if only so you can get a little more comfortable moving on.

* Midding
Feeling the tranquil pleasure of being near a gathering but not in it - hovering inconspicuously on the perimeter of a campfire, chatting outside a huge party while others dance inside, resting your head in the backseat of a car listening to the sound of your friends chatting up front - being blissfully invisible yet still fully included, safe in the knowledge that everyone is together and okay, with all the thrill of being there, but without the burden of having to be.


905

[The anagram is based on an English translation of the Spanish love poem by Pablo Neruda]


The following is from the original work of the Chilean poet Pablo Neruda, entitled: IF YOU FORGET ME.

Quiero que sepas
una cosa.

Tú sabes cómo es esto:
si miro
la luna de cristal, la rama roja
del lento otoño en mi ventana,
si toco
junto al fuego
la impalpable ceniza
o el arrugado cuerpo de la leña,
todo me lleva a ti,
como si todo lo que existe:
aromas, luz, metales,
fueran pequeños barcos que navegan
hacia las islas tuyas que me aguardan.




I need you love, to know
one thing.

To see how it appears:
if I gaze amazed,
on a pale opaque moon face,
Juno, a volcano, a late rose,
red leaves of autumn or a glass,
if I once clasp to me a flame,
an impalpable ember or
a creased old log,
I find all carries me to you;
as if all that exists:
aromas, colours, aqua, light,
cool jade ... more too,
must be little boats that
are sailing out to conquer
a unique unconquered isle,
an unequalled soul
reassuring me.


906


PADDY and MURPHY

Paddy and Murphy are reading headstones in a cemetery.
Paddy says, "Murphy, there's a fellow here who was a hundred and fifty two!"
"What was his name?" asks Murphy.
Paddy replies: "Miles from London!"
*
After a terrible earthquake in Dublin, rescuers were sorting through the rubble of a collapsed city centre hotel, when they heard an Irish voice calling weakly, “Oi'm Paddy Quinn... Feckin’ help me.”
The rescuers shouted “Where are you?”
Paddy shouted back, “Oi’m in room two hundred and ninety two!”
*
Paddy and Murphy are at the airport. Paddy says: "Jeez, Murphy, oi really wish oi'd brought the TV with me"
"Why's that?" asks Murphy.
"'Cos oi left the passports on top of it!"
*
Paddy staggers exhausted into his house. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ asks Murphy.
‘Oi thought oi’d save my seventy-five pence bus fare by running behoind the bus,’ gasps Paddy.
‘Ah, ya daft fool, says Murphy “If you’d run behind a taxi you coulda saved a tenner.”
*
The Fire Brigade are trying to rescue an Irishman from the tenth floor of a burning building.
A fireman shouts: “Quick, Paddy! Jump and we’ll catch you in this blanket!”
The Irishman replies: “Feck that! Oi don’t trust you lot to hold on to it. Lay it on the floor!"
*
Paddy and his wife Sinead are lying in bed asleep when the neighbours' dog starts barking like mad in the garden and wakes them up.
After a while, Paddy says, "The hell with this!" and storms out.
He comes back ten minutes later and Sinead asks, "What did you do?"
Paddy replies "Oi put the dog in our garden. Let's see how they loike it!"
*
Paddy says to Murphy: ‘Me friend Niall Styles fell off his motorcycle today.
He has brain damage, two broken arms and is blind in one eye.’
'Feckin' hell… no wonder he fell off it,’ says Murphy.
*


A man stops Murphy in Dublin town centre and asks the quickest way to Cork.
Murphy says: “Are you on foot or in your car?”
The man replies: “In my car.”
“Well that’ll be the quickest way,” says Murphy.
*
Murphy yelled frantically down the phone “Me wife Maggie's pregnant and her contractions are only two minutes apart!”
“Is this her first child?” asked the Doctor.
“No,” yelled Murphy, “this is her husband!”
*
Paddy always slept with a handgun under his pillow. One night, on hearing a noise at the foot of the bed, he accidentally shot off his big toe.
‘Thank the Lord I wasn’t lying da other end of me bed,’ Paddy told his friends in McCullen's bar; ‘coz I'd have blown me dumb head off.’

Paddy and Murphy are out beachcombing one day.
Paddy finds a hand-mirror, looks at it and murmurs, “Gee, I am sure I’ve seen dat man before!” and gives it to Murphy.
Murphy says, “Ya stupid eejut, dat’s me!”
*
What’s the difference between an Irish funeral and an Irish wedding?
One less drunk.
*
A befuddled Paddy had sat at the bar for three hours, trying to figure out why his sister has four brothers and he only has three.
*
Paddy called up Easyjet to book a flight. The operator asked Paddy: "How many people are flying with you?
"Paddy replied "I don't know! Its your feckin' plane!"
*
Paddy is driving past the bus stop when he sees Murphy there.
"Hey, would you like a lift Murphy?”
”No thanks… I moight miss me bus.”
*
Paddy drags a very large old box all the way to the Antiques Roadshow, which is filming in his area that week.
'Um... where did you get this?' asks the expert.
'It's been in our loft for eighty-four years' says Paddy.
'I see, and do you have insurance?'
'No,' replies Paddy, somewhat baffled, 'do you think I should?'
'Yeah,' replies the man, 'It's your water tank.'
*


907

[William Stanley Merwin's poem IT IS MARCH is anagrammed into another poem based on a true story from 2017 about French President Emmanuel Macron posting a literary piece in response to a 13-year-old British schoolgirl’s poem about the Eiffel Tower titled CENTRE OF ATTRACTION. Aside from the anagram sharing that same title, it also contains a phrase ("lacy skirt") and the last line ("She is second to none.") from her said poem. The anagram containing two constraints (one obvious, the other not) is my tribute to Gustav's masterpiece which was dedicated to the city of Paris on March 31, 1889. The said day is the clue to where the 2 acrostics are located. The 3rd and 1st letters of each line when read downwards spell out EIFFEL TOWER, PARIS FRANCE. ]


IT IS MARCH
by William Stanley Merwin

It is March and black dust falls out of the books
Soon I will be gone
The tall spirit who lodged here has
Left already
On the avenues the colorless thread lies under
Old prices

When you look back there is always the past
Even when it has vanished
But when you look forward
With your dirty knuckles and the wingless
Bird on your shoulder
What can you write

The bitterness is still rising in the old mines
The fist is coming out of the egg
The thermometers out of the mouths of the corpses

At a certain height
The tails of the kites for a moment are
Covered with footsteps

Whatever I have to do has not yet begun






CENTRE OF ATTENTION

President Macron, he, likewise skillful, writes a poem of thoughtful memories to
A little girl named Sophie who was
Reflecting on the emotions she vividly got. But
Infatuated with the "lacy skirt" the maiden had, she shares her withheld thoughts,
"She is second to none." Somehow
Filled with wonder, she looks at the symbol's shadow as it touches the sky.

Returning to the books of Cocteau, Cendrars,
Apolinaire, Aragon, and like a
New song of sublime virtuosity by Charles Trenet, he
Cherishes every word that the little visitor wrote down; but
Europe and the mistrustful BBC have a busy day foolishly asking, "He really wrote that?"

[The day Gustav's masterpiece was dedicated to the city is the clue to where the 2 acrostics are located. The 3rd and 1st letters of each line when read downwards spell out EIFFEL TOWER, PARIS FRANCE. ]

CENTRE OF ATTENTION

/PrEsident Macron, he, likewise skillful, writes a poem of thoughtful memories to
/A lIttle girl named Sophie who was
/ReFlecting on the emotions she vividly got. But
/InFatuated with the "lacy skirt" the maiden had, she shares her withheld thoughts,
"ShE is second to none." Somehow
/FiLled with wonder, she looks at the symbol's shadow as it touches the sky.

/ReTurning to the books of Cocteau, Cendrars,
/ApOlinaire, Aragon, and like a
/NeW song of sublime virtuosity by Charles Trenet, he
/ChErishes every word that the little visitor wrote down; but
/EuRope and the mistrustful BBC have a busy day foolishly asking, "He really wrote that?"


908

[A poem to poem anagram with an acrostic and a graphical constraint resembling falling snow]


Dust of Snow
Written by the great and illustrious poet, Robert Lee Frost

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.




Deft Feathers Craft Warm Nests

Look way past high
Onto my poor female bird,
Sooner to not fly
Than a chook that was heard.

Why we stood under!
I have to go rescue.
Never a doomed blunder -
Good must remain swift as due.

[Constraints: acronym (black) and there are circles in the poem if you highlight all the o's (blue).]

Deft Feathers Craft Warm Nests

Look way past high
Onto my poor female bird,
Sooner to not fly
Than a chook that was heard.

Why we stood under!
I have to go rescue.
Never a doomed blunder -
Good must remain swift as due.


Deft Feathers Craft Warm Nests

Look way past high
Onto my poor female bird,
Sooner to not fly
Than a chook that was heard.

Why we stood under!
I have to go rescue.
Never a doomed blunder -
Good must remain swift as due.