The Special Category

Anagrammy Awards > Voting Page - Special Category

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

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I must have left my house at eight, because I always do,
My train, I'm certain, left the station just when it was due,
I must have read the morning paper going into town,
And having gotten through the editorial, no doubt I must have frowned.

I must have made my desk around a quarter after nine,
With letters to be read, and heaps of papers waiting to be signed,
I must have gone to lunch at half past twelve or so,
The usual place, the usual bunch,
And still on top of this I'm pretty sure it must have rained,
The day before you came.

I must have lit my seventh cigarette at half past two,
And at the time I never even noticed I was blue,
I must have kept on dragging through the business of the day,
Without really knowing anything, I hid a part of me away.

At five I must have left, there's no exception to the rule,
A matter of routine, I've done it ever since I finished school.
The train back home again,
Undoubtedly I must have read the evening paper then,
Oh yes, I'm sure my life was well within its usual frame,
The day before you came.

I must have opened my front door at eight o'clock or so,
And stopped along the way to buy some Chinese food to go,
I'm sure I had my dinner watching something on TV,
There's not, I think, a single episode of Dallas that I didn't see.

I must have gone to bed around a quarter after ten,
I need a lot of sleep, and so I like to be in bed by then,
I must have read a while,
The latest one by Marilyn French or something in that style,
It's funny, but I had no sense of living without aim,
The day before you came.

And turning out the light I must have yawned and cuddled up for yet another night,
And rattling on the roof I must have heard the sound of rain,
The day before you came.

(Inane Outpourings Of A European Poet.)

I can't believe the lyrics they are awfully mundane,
How could Benny.A. and poet Bjorn pen something that inane?
They must've had a bad day or their tongues got out of gear,
The tune itself is good, and somewhat haunting, but the lyrics are damned queer.

Their tunes are often catchy and the melodies are fine,
And usually with lyrics that are clever and inventive every time,
Oh, but something went so wrong with one lame, awful song,
It's quite unusual for them,
Agnetha sings the tune with much emotion, aye that's true,
Yet, oh, the words are poo.

I must admit I've read reviews that think the song is fine,
They think the music's perfect and the lyrics are divine,
But compare it to a good song such as 'Winner Takes It All',
And I really do believe that it does not match up at all.

'Slipping Through My Fingers' is a favourite tune of mine,
And 'Our Last Summer' too, I must've played it many times;
'Fernando' was ok,
'I Have A Dream' - another one I often play,
Oh, but there's one song I must admit I think is very lame,
'The Day Before You Came.'

I've seen the movie 'Mamma Mia' and I thought it fun,
Meryl Streep was good though she is nigh-on sixty-one!
I'm pretty sure it featured lots of golden Abba hits,
But not 'The Day Before You Came', oh no; because that song's the pits.

Evaluating every hit that Abba ever had,
The naff words of 'The Day Before...' rank down there even with the baddest of the bad,
It's a taradiddle,
On a par with 'Hey Hey Helen', and 'Dum Diddle',
The tune is so evocative it could've hit the top,
But it's a patent flop.

I'm puffing like a train, every time I hear those awful words boom out again,
And I have found a gun, and I am going off to bed
With gun held to my head!

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[Milton's epitaph anagrammed into a poem for the 12th anniversary of Princess Diana's death with a special constraint: A relevant image appears when all of the anagram's S's are marked...]

On Shakespeare

What needs my Shakespeare, for his honoured bones,
The labour of an age in piled stones?
Or that his hallowed relics should be hid
Under a star-y-pointing pyramid?
Dear son of Memory, great heir of Fame,
What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name?
Thou, in our wonder and astonishment,
Hast built thyself a livelong monument.
For whilst, to the shame of slow-endeavouring art,
Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart
Hath, from the leaves of thy unvalued book,
Those Delphic lines with deep impression took;
Then thou, our fancy of itself bereaving,
Dost make us marble, with too much conceiving;
And, so sepulchred, in such pomp dost lie,
That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.

An ode in honour of the bleak death of Diana

How odd it felt to watch our media
Overtly harness sassy trivia
To make this darling seem plain and uncouth -
While fans revered the springtime of her youth!
No bogus profiles and no sloppy claim
Would snuff the solemn worship of her name;
Each soul resists suspicions of her peak,
When so much trashy flack is proven weak!
Let us remember still that soothing charm
(The spark - those avid eyes which knew no harm)
Then stop and muse on the astounding doom,
That set that beauty in this bloody tomb...
Why is our hero bound to lose our love?
And is that urging the demise thereof?
Ah yes, I found the high cost of new fame;
A candle burned, and we blew out the flame.

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[The subject is a piece written by Tammy Kane three days after the attack on the World Trade Center. The anagram is my personal take on the events during that dark day in September eight years ago. As a constraint, the anagram contains ten (10) words that have consecutive twin consonants (yes, "twin" as in the "Twin Towers"), e.g. biGGer or buZZard. Kindly print out the anagram, encircle the ten "twins" with a pencil and then connect these alphabetically (as in "GG" connects to "KK" etcetera) with straight lines to form an appropriate "drawing."]


Our nation's innocence is lost,
Stolen by acts of hate.
Helpless people paid the cost,
For them it is too late.

Daughters, sons, husbands, wives,
Sisters, friends and brothers.
All of them have lost their lives,
To senseless acts of others.

New York's city has been defaced.
Bodies lay in rubble.
They can never be replaced.
But war won't end our trouble.

Angers only escalate,
As we point out the guilt.
Violence will perpetuate.
While we dig through the silt.

Cries of anger, cries for war,
Echo in the air.
As if our bombs and missiles soar,
It will make it fair.

People claim eye for an eye
Our nation wants to fight.
If their innocent people die,
Then will that make US right?

Punishment surely must take place.
These murderers must pay.
But they are groups and not a race.
Keep liberty in mind, each day.

We are people of goodwill,
Of truth and love and light.
Please give thought before you kill,
Take heed before you fight.

We ask, what do we tell our children?
How do we give them ease?
Reactions set examples for them,
Should we not teach them peace?


Apocalyptic war? What kind of repulsive, poisoned beast has made this
A wounded nation of hidden suffering, supplying terror past Hades?

Come color your biblical perceptions, listen to that shocking, repugnant fable
About contemptible people who completely deconsecrate the double Babel.

Hideously heroic, these ghastly infidels lurk, seeking the sublime;
How vehemently they hate but vaguely can't fathom time.

The wealthiest eastern metropolis with two renowned totem poles --
Fate awaits; can anyone evacuate these precious souls?

Another bloodied sketchbook preserves a grisly cadaverous pile;
Monstrously potent enough to extinguish a silent ethereal smile.

Are we not protecting America, we raise the Stars and Stripes unfurled?
Look at the eyes of despair as callous lemmings hurtle to the edge of the world.

While we ask for relief and succor, the feelings of loss fade never...
Underneath the rubble I faintly hear a cry within as a life is shattered forever.

See the image in a new tab/window.

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[A Keats sonnet anagrammed into a sonnet about coping with the terrorist attack on September Eleven which also contains 2 fitting acrostics (representing the Twin Towers).]

Keats' "When I Have Fears That I May Cease To Be"

When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high-piled books, in charact'ry,
Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And feel that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love; then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.

The       Shock Became Fear
Eight     Earthly years have since gone by, and yet,
Raw       Pains emerge when new fears shock the nation,
Reviving  The perception of high threat,
Of        Evil plans or an annihilation;
Reminding Me of old New York's good-will,
In        Better times, which then had offered haven,
Still     Eager for each newcomer... until
The       Rubble buried Hope on Nine-Eleven.
And       Each day bodes a harsh fate for the claim
That      Life is valued here, among this folk;
The       Ethnic haven was abruptly maimed
And       Vanished in that rush of ash and smoke...
Cry,      Earth, for each good fraction of the whole,
Killed    Near the lights of your eternal soul.

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You have to be confirmed old-fogyish enough to remember Abbott and Costello's witty comical routines, too crotchety to understand computers, and juvenile enough to appreciate this farcical spoof. For those of us who become stymied by bleeping computers, scroll down...

If comics Abbott and Costello were alive today, they might have modified their famed wry sketch, "Who's on First?" sort of like this:


(Costello calls to buy a computer from salesman Abbott)

ABBOTT (cheery): Super Duper computer store. May I help you?

COSTELLO (dignified): Why yes, thank you. I'm setting up an office in my house and I'm thinking about buying a new computer.

ABBOTT: You're welcome. Mac?

COSTELLO: No, my name's Lou.

ABBOTT: Your computer?

COSTELLO: I don't own a computer yet. I want to buy one.


COSTELLO: Hey, I told you, I'm Lou!

ABBOTT: What about Windows?

COSTELLO: Why? Will it get too stuffy?

ABBOTT: Anyway, do you want a computer with Windows, McAfee?

COSTELLO: I don't know. By the way, I'm still Lou! What do I see when I check the windows?

ABBOTT: Wallpaper.

COSTELLO: Wow, never mind the windows. I want a computer and software.

ABBOTT: Software for Windows?

COSTELLO (agitatedly): No! For my gosh-darn computer! I need it to type proposals, track expenses, run my Chevy franchise. What do you have?

ABBOTT: Office.

COSTELLO: Yes, for my office. Can you recommend anything?

ABBOTT: I just did.

COSTELLO: You just did what?

ABBOTT: Recommend something.

COSTELLO: You just recommended something?


COSTELLO (weary): For my office?


COSTELLO: What did you just recommend for my office?

ABBOTT: Office.

COSTELLO: Yes, for my office!

ABBOTT: I recommend Office with Windows.

COSTELLO: I already have an office with windows, and I'm almost ready to jump out! Let's say I'm sitting at my computer and I want to type a business proposal. What do I need?

ABBOTT: You would need Word.

COSTELLO: What word?

ABBOTT: Word in Office.

COSTELLO: The only word in office is office!

ABBOTT: Word in Office for Windows.

COSTELLO: Which word in office for windows?

ABBOTT: The Word you get when you click over the blue 'W'.

COSTELLO: Absurd! Sir, I'm going to click your blue 'W' if you don't start giving me some straight answers! Let's just suppose I'm a used car salesman. Then, what about finance and bookkeeping, and all that? Do you have anything to help me track my money?

ABBOTT: Sure...Money.

COSTELLO: That's right. What do you have?

ABBOTT: Money.

COSTELLO: I need money to track my money?

ABBOTT: Yep, it comes bundled with your computer.

COSTELLO: What comes bundled with my computer?

ABBOTT: Money.

COSTELLO: Money comes with the computer?

ABBOTT: Yes. A real plus, at no extra charge!

COSTELLO: I get a bundle of money with my computer? How much?

ABBOTT: Just one copy.

COSTELLO: Say, isn't it illegal to copy money?

ABBOTT: Microsoft gave us our own license to copy Money.

COSTELLO: They can give you a license to copy money?


(A few days later...)

ABBOTT: Super Duper computer store. How may I help you?

COSTELLO: I'm embarrassed, but how do I turn this useless computer off?

ABBOTT : Click on 'START'...

(The End)