Fresh from the vasty fields of France, I have just received the following pentelope:
Today was the date, the die was cast.
Strong on his feet to match the test,
He rang the bell and clenched his fist.
To hell the price new teeth would cost
The truth was: when we muft, we muft.
GH 2018I think this must be a favourite to carry away the 2018 Pentelope Award.
The triple d-alliteration in line one presages the sense of impen-ding, dreadful doom. A galloping metre carries us relentlessly forward but then changes pace when iambic tetrameter strides doggedly towards its destined climax and then... an irresistible bathos.
In the background, barely noticeable, is the pentelopic DNA, faithfully reproducing its own kind: tradidi quod et accepi.
A masterpiece from an artist whose working motto seems to be: ars est celare artem.
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