Higgledy Piggledy

Joined
Apr 21, 2007
Posts
5,507
Here's an ongoing challenge, a truly fun one I've always wanted to present to this group.

This form is one I discovered through John Bellairs, one of my favorite authors, and our family has played with it for years. The strictest version of this is called a double dactyl,. Here are two examples from Bellairs:

Higgeldy-piggeldy
Saint Athanasius
Riffled through volumes
in unseemly haste

Trying to find out if
(hagiographically)
John of Jerusalem
Liked almond paste.



Higgeldy-piggeldy
John Cantacuzene
Swaddled in Byzantine
Pearl-seeded robes

Put out the eyes of his
Iconophanical
Prelate, for piercing his
Priestly ear-lobes.


Here are two more examples of my own:

Higgeldy-piggledy
Ferd the Recalcitrant
Buttoned his hair shirt with
Flagellant shame

That in composing his
Autobiography
He had forgotten his
Third middle name.



Higgeldy-piggeldy
Archduke Bassarian
Bathed in an ullage
Of parboiled rice

In preparation for
Peripatetically
Searching his mansion
For heretic mice.



The meter and rhyme scheme is pretty obvious, but for you overly academic types who like this sort of precise terminology, the meter is the standard pandemic catheter, with a truncated polyglottal breviary in the 3rd and 7th lines and an optional elysian spondiform between lines 3-4 and 7-8.

Basic rules:

The second line must be a name.
The fourth and eighth lines must rhyme.
The sixth line must be a single six-syllable word.
Obey the rhythm, or it won't be as funny.

have fun, you poets!

bj
 
Higgeldy-piggeldy,
Mack the tortoise
Sneezed a kingdom
To chaotic ruin

While Yertle surveys
Discombobulation,
And sings his song
To a smaller tune.
 
Higgledy-piggledy
Poetess Angeline
scrolled through the volumes
of bickering posts

choosing the best for her
autobiography,
clamored for by the
admiring hosts.
 
Higgledy-piggledy
Poetess Angeline
scrolled through the volumes
of bickering posts

choosing the best for her
autobiography,
clamored for by the
admiring hosts.

Higgeldy, piggeldy
Goddess forgiveldy
if ever I publish
such clangiforous nits.

Better our poesy, not
theatricalities
that paint us as rather
small-minded shits.
 
Higgeldy, piggeldy
Goddess forgiveldy
if ever I publish
such clangiforous nits.

Better our poesy, not
theatricalities
that paint us as rather
small-minded shits.

Roffle!

I found this again the other day. He's my Patron God of STFU and helps me behave myself.

bj
 
I can do this one, with gusto.

Higgledy piggledy
Conan Barbarian
Killed all his enemies;
Lopped of their head.

Went about doing it
Unsympathetically.
Women, men, chil-der-en,
All of them, dead.

And this is just the beginning...wait until I get my children to bed...
 
Woot 4 u!

*grinning* it's a fun form. Quite the game around my house.

love the new AV, by the way.

bj

Higgledy Piggledy
Mister Ron Jeremy
Made eighty movies
Without getting hard.

He made his famousity
inappropriately
Stand-ins did inserts.
Just a fat tub of lard.

I could do this one all day.
 
Higgledy piggledy
Ole Granny Jones
Chewed on a pork chop
without gristle or fat

She ground it with dentures
indiscriminantly
whilst digging another
one out of the vat.
 
Not Meant to be Funny

Higgledy Piggledy
President Bush
Fiddles his fiddle
While America burns.

Basks in his virtue
ceremoniously,
Then gives to his friends
What the rest of us earns.
 
Higgledy piggledy
Saint george
Slew dragons
Head chopping

While wondering
Procrastinatingly (is that a word?)
Whether to hump
maidens unstopping

sheesh that's awful!

smileystgeorgeflag.gif


.
 
Higgledy Piggeldy
Sweet young Annie
Teaches us England
With unending panache

Treats us all wonderfully,
Lit-er-o-ti-cal-ly,
Exposes herself,
Makes us all want a nosh.
 
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Sweet young eh? I like it more more? As a matterof interest how to you pronounce panache over there then? Always thought it was 'pan ash'
 
Sweet young eh? I like it more more? As a matterof interest how to you pronounce panache over there then? Always thought it was 'pan ash'

Panache= pan osh And yeah, young. When you get to be my age, every one is young.
 
Higgeldy Piggeldy
Mistress Bijou
Makes us feel welcome
In her fine, sleazy joint.

She shows up occasionally,
peripatetically,
And always is ready
With a sharply-made point.
 
Higgeldy Piggeldy,
Sweet Angeline
Teaches us all about
Poetry and life.

She reads us and talks to us
Intellectually,
But don't cross her, she's handy
With a razor-edged knife.
 
Higgeldy Piggeldy,
Tasty Champagne
Words are her calling,
She's quick with a rhyme.

Language to her is like
religiosity
Wonder how she ever
Finds all the time.
 
Higgeldy Piggeldy,
Sweet Angeline
Teaches us all about
Poetry and life.

She reads us and talks to us
Intellectually,
But don't cross her, she's handy
With a razor-edged knife.

Higgeldy piggeldy,
Anschul our wiggledy
cheffy mustachioed
china cat joe

cooks and advises us
sonnetalightfully.
He's bakelicious
and no sourdough!

:kiss:
 
Higgeldy piggeldy,
Anschul our wiggledy
cheffy mustachioed
china cat joe

cooks and advises us
sonnetalightfully.
He's bakelicious
and no sourdough!

:kiss:

I've actually been known to do THIS all day.
I need a day job.
 
I've actually been known to do THIS all day.
I need a day job.

That is scary! We have no game systems at all in this house, and unless one of our various teenagers/post-adolescents (four of em between us) moves in with us permanently, we never will.

But I knew you'd get the china cat ref, of course. :)
 
That is scary! We have no game systems at all in this house, and unless one of our various teenagers/post-adolescents (four of em between us) moves in with us permanently, we never will.

But I knew you'd get the china cat ref, of course. :)

The deal is, I've never been into gaming systems, but I have been into guitar playing since I was about nine. I spent (wasted?) much of my teen years building, tearing down, and rebuilding guitars, culminating with my two lost years in the seventies. I gave it all up, save for an old Martin accoustic I heisted from an equipment closet in Santa Rosa (I still have it, and still play it). But then someone showed me the Guitar Hero thing on a wii, and I'm hooked. Rolled over like a dead fish. I think it's that testosterone poisoning again. I just HAVE to beat the damn game. And, I get to pretend that I'm as good as Jerry was (as if...).
My son is a jazz musician in New York, and my seven-year-old daughter is showing promise already on her little backpacker. I won't let her play the game, because she'll develop bad finger habits. But for me, an old rocker, it's a gas.
 
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