Meyran Kraus

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Original text in yellow, anagram in pink.

In An Artist's Studio

One face looks out from all his canvasses,
One selfsame figure sits or walks or leans;
We found her hidden just behind those screens,
That mirror gave back all her loveliness.
A queen in opal or in ruby dress,
A nameless girl in freshest summer greens,
A saint, an angel;--every canvass means
The same one meaning, neither more nor less.
He feeds upon her face by day and night,
And she with true kind eyes looks back on him
Fair as the moon and joyful as the light;
Not wan with waiting, not with sorrow dim;
Not as she is, but was when hope shone bright;
Not as she is, but as she fills his dream.

La Gioconda: A Mona Lisa hymn
Enigmas lose their freshness over time
Once interest fades - although, I shall confess,
None have the sense of honor so sublime
A beaming woman's portrait shall possess.
Returning to her shrine, a slew of stares
Drifts on and scans her alabaster skin;
Onlookers, fans and musers here and there
Debate just what this Goddess hides within:
A nonchalant rebuff? New quirk or joke?
Vitality or shrewdness? Either way,
I think her smashing image shall invoke
New fables and assumptions every day.
Confuse me, Siren, then my soul beguile -
I can do nought but answer with a smile.

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The Peace Proposal
(From Shel Silverstein's 'Where The Sidewalk Ends')

Said General Clay to General Gore,
"Really must we fight this silly war?
To kill and die is such a bore."
"I quite agree", said General Gore.

Said General Gore to General Clay,
"We could go to the beach today
And have some ice cream on the way."
"A grand idea", said General Clay.

Said General Clay to General Gore,
"We'll build sand castles on the shore."
Said General Gore, "We'll splash and play."
"Let's leave right now", said General Clay.

Said General Gore to General Clay,
"But what if the sea is closed today
And what if the sand's been blown away?"
"A dreadful thought", said General Clay.

Said General Gore to General Clay,
"I've always feared the ocean's spray.
And we may drown." "It's true, we may.
It chills my blood", said General Clay.

Said General Clay to General Gore,
"My bathing suit is slightly tore.
We better go on with our war."
"I quite agree", said General Gore

Then General Clay charged General Gore
As bullets flew and cannons roared.
And now, alas, there is no more
Of General Clay or General Gore.

A Rich War

George W. Dense called his last ally Blair.
"Gosh, a war in Iraq sure was cool to declare!
Let's wage a new war, 'cause my voters are tense.
Are you game, ally?", queried George W. Dense.

Last ally Blair told George W. Dense:
"Great, capital concept... yet I'm on the fence."
"Oh, courage! Dear god, you are gayer than Cher!",
George W. Dense needled last ally Blair.

George W. Dense egged on last ally Blair:
"If we don't stay together, we don't have a prayer!
Anyhow, it's a matter of nash'nal defense,
A real pressing danger", said George W. Dense.

George W. Dense said to last ally Blair:
"A large gang for Allah is roving out there!
They'll concoct nuclear damage and give us a scare!",
George W. Dense told his last ally Blair.

Last ally Blair told George W. Dense:
"Such sheer paranoia. You are not making sense."
"Ah, I see! Good golly, you are after my chair!",
George W. Dense yelled at last ally Blair.

This called for a duel between Ally and Dense;
Each man hit his mark with precision, and hence
All things, once again, are idyllic and fair
With no Georgie the Dense, nor his last ally Blair.

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This anagram of Wilfred Owen's poem in a similar theme also contains a relevant constraint: Reading down each line's 3rd word in the anagram poem results in a quote attributed to General Robert E. Lee.

Wilfred Owen's Anthem for Doomed Youth

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

The Soldier's Death

So long. It drapes me, death's unholy stench.
My crypt is in this putrid, muddy trench.
Begone. Be well. I shall not bear to be
A veteran, that simply isn't me.
Who needs war-medals, shining on the shelf,
If 'Selfless' is in fact my loss of self?
The enemy so near, I'd soon embrace
This darkness terrible, but full of grace...
How daft or merely innocent it was
To hope we battled for this global cause.
Oh, I should learn: All flesh is only grass
Which blades grow higher when the dead amass.
I think too many men, and proper ones,
Were rather fond of horror, thrills or guns...
How droll of them. No, only love stands strong.
I grasp it now, the truth of life... So long.

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The United States of America might
be known for its culinary delight.
From all that I see,
Its name ought to be
The "Mac and Fries Eat-out Site."
(Larry Brash)

To G. Bush: See, I am not chief fan;
I am against your entire bad clan.
O, if I hear this stutter
Of the tawdriest matter,
I'll holler: Shut Gob, scattered man!

(Mey K.)

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Updated: May 10, 2016


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