My daughter has a chocolate –––––––– just like the one in the first picture. His toys explode too!

Best wishes Alan.

 

Contributions in "More or Les Bloody Plurals", "7-by-many",
or here would be most welcome.

In Australia’s east there’s
A bloke for whom Easter’s
A reason to celebrate friends.
And in England’s south centre
A lady who’s lent her
Support to his means and his ends.
We thank both sincerely
For banter so cheery
That brightens weekdays and weekends.

Does it matter if we go beyond what the poet originally intended?  I am confused.  What do you think?

I think that creative artists of every kind often get a little cross, or at least bemused, when their audience finds meanings in their work that they never intended. But I believe that once they have shared their creation with the public, they should be prepared for everyone to appreciate it in any way they choose. Many of the poems I had to analyse to within an inch of their life at school and university have become my firm favourites because of all the possible levels of interpretation I found in them.

Wow Jack, that's impressive!

I once asked ChatGPT to rewrite the Beatles' 'She Loves You' in the style of Chaucer.

This was the result:

Yea, verily, she doth love thee, more profound than yon deep sea,
With joy and sorrow mingled, she hath cried unto me.
Forsooth, she hath thy love lost, and now at last she sees,
That thou art hers and all her woes are but old memories.

Yea, verily, she doth love thee, and thou shouldst glad rejoice,
For thou hath won her tender heart, with thine sweet, gentle voice.
And aye, she spake of thee, her words didst shine so bright,
She said thou art the one who canst make her darkness light.

"Forgive me," is her cry, from deep within her heart,
She yearns for thy return, to never more depart.
Her love for thee is vast, as vast can ever be,
She prays thou feel'st the same, for her love is true and free.

And shouldst thou ponder still, on whether to return her love,
Remember she doth weep, beneath the moon above.
Her heart is like a book, wherein thy name doth glow,
A tale of love that's true, that only thee doth know.

Yea, verily, she doth love thee, with a love so bold and new,
She waits for thee, her knight, to come and start anew.
So harken to her plea, and let not love's sweet song,
Become a distant memory, where lost loves do belong.

For love's a treasure rare, that cometh not by chance,
But groweth deep within, with every sweet romance.
So take her hand in thine, and let thy hearts entwine,
And say, "Yea, verily, she doth love me, and is forever mine".

I did get the 10-letter word, connecting it with a noun that I assume is common. But I agree that it's a rather unusual word, and there's a more common adjective from the same root that I'd use in preference to this one.

I might invite some comment on Funeral Blues

I expect that a lot of people, like me, first encountered the poem when it featured in 'Four Weddings and a Funeral'.

I was interested to discover that it was written as part of the verse play 'Ascent of F6' by Auden and Christopher Isherwood, and was performed to music (blues music, in line with the poem's title). I studied some extracts from the play as part of a modern verse anthology that was one of my O-level set texts in 1966, but this poem was not included.

Pen, I am in awe of your being able to read out this poem at a loved one's funeral. I recently delivered an eulogy at my much loved brother's funeral, so I can begin to understand how hard it was.

Just one final comment on the poem. I find the 'juicy bone' in the second line a bit jarring, a discordant note when compared with the rest of the poem which is unremittingly toned down as far as the senses are concerned – no light or colour, only muffled or moaning sounds – and yet these two words invoke both taste and smell. Was it intentional, I wonder?