The Special Category

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

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ANNOUNCEMENT: International Alert Levels Raised!

The English are feeling the heat in the wake of recent terrorist threats and, as a safeguard, have now raised the national security level from "Displeased" to "Peeved". Security levels may soon be raised again to "Irritated" or even "A Bit Cross". The English have not been "A Bit Cross" since the blitz in Nineteen-forty, when it looked like tea supplies could run short.

Terrorism has been re-categorized from "Tiresome" to "A Bloody Nuisance". The last time the British issued a "Bloody Nuisance" warning level was back in Fifteen-eighty-eight, when threatened by the Spanish Armada.

The Scots have also raised their level from "Pissed Off" to "So, let's go and get those Bastards". They do not have any more levels. This is the reason those war-waging Scots have been used on the British army's front line for the last three-hundred years.

The French government announced today that it has raised its alert level from "Run" to "Hide". The only two higher levels in France are "Collaborate" and "Surrender". This unusual rise was precipitated by a recent fire in France that wrecked a major white flag factory and has effectively paralysed all the country's military capabilities.

Italy has also increased its alert level from "Shout Loudly and Excitedly" to "Elaborate Military Posturing"

There are two levels left: "Ineffective Combat Operations" and "Change Sides".

The Germans have increased their state of terrorist alert from "Disdainful Arrogance" to "Dress in Uniform and Sing Marching Songs". They have two higher levels: "Invade a Neighbor's Territory" and "Lose".

The Belgians aren't bothered as they're all on holiday. The only itty-bitty threat they find to worry about is that of NATO pulling out of Brussels soon.

The Spanish are excited to see their latest submarines ready to be deployed. These nifty, perfectly designed submarines have glass bottoms fitted so that the new Spanish navy can get a really good look at the old Spanish navy.

In the meantime, the Americans are carrying out pre-emptive strikes on their friends "just in case".

Canada doesn't have any alert levels.

New Zealand has raised its security levels from "baa" to "BAA!" Due to their current stiff reductions in defence spending, New Zealand has only one further level of alert, which is: "I hope Australia will come to our rescue".

Australia has raised its security alert level from "No worries" to "She'll be alright, mate". Three other escalation levels remain. They are: "Crikey!"; "I think we'll need to cancel the barbie this weekend"; and, thirdly, "The barbie is cancelled".

So far, no situation has ever warranted use of the third escalation level.

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grey clouds darken
mountain snow.

My breath follows
the chill wind-
a morning walk.

Bitter cold
autumn wind -
shivering lips.

A shabby scarecrow
with broken arms-
the cold hurts.

dry herbs-
freezing wind.

Empty spider webs
under the eaves-
melting frost.

A jay
perched on a branch–
misty December morn

Frosty windshield
crusted white,
going nowhere.

The still cold air–
a fig leaf falls
on the frosted windshield.

Salmon drying
in the smoke house–
caviar on a cracker.

Candies, cakes,
wintertime pastries-
tighter pants.

Christmas tree
shining so bright-
beautiful night.

mankind's yearning

Naked hollow
warmth of wing-
chillblains try me.

Winter grim
but old pinched -
sun is vital.

The sorry blackbird
catches no worms
A bush wreath.

did dawn
fresh, drying.

Evening street is damp
fresh we'd stumble-

Bird by
jacaranda tree
cheeps commoner hymn.

Dowdy reindeer
tow the sleigh
now urchins' gifts

Fat fellow's flight
reindeer aloft
all dashin' to child's side.

A kid's stocking
our avarice
men can hear holy sermon.

Taste in steak
when prime persistent-
gastric acid.

bush bough, men's rites-
Christian faith.

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(A Song for Christmas)

Sleigh bells ring, are you listening,
In the lane, snow is glistening
A beautiful sight,
We're happy tonight,
Walking in a winter wonderland.

Gone away is the bluebird,
Here to stay is a new bird
He sings a love song,
As we go along,
Walking in a winter wonderland.

In the meadow we can build a snowman,
Then pretend that he is Parson Brown
He'll say: Are you married?
We'll say: No man,
But you can do the job
When you're in town.

Later on, we'll conspire,
As we dream by the fire
To face unafraid,
The plans that we've made,
Walking in a winter wonderland.

In the meadow we can build a snowman,
And pretend that he's a circus clown
We'll have lots of fun with mister snowman,
Until the other kids come knock him down.

When it snows, ain't it thrilling,
Though your nose gets a chilling
We'll frolic and play, the Eskimo way,
Walking in a winter wonderland.

Walking in a winter wonderland,
Walking in a winter wonderland.

(A Poem).

Ice-bergs crack, are you listenin'?
North Pole land, snow is missin' in,
Don't fret about war,
The threat is a thaw,
Winter's gone, new global warming's here.

Gone away, winter fun days,
Here to stay winter sun-days,
An icy cold blast?
A thing o' the past;
Global warming's here and winter's gone.

In the meadow wildflowers keep on growin',
Any given season anywhere,
Dank, polluted rivers go on flowin',
And black smoke blowin' up
Into the air.

Dreamin' of a white Christmas?
Not a hope! It has missed us,
No flakes in the wind,
No lakes with ice in,
Winter went and global warming's here.

January, we will walk in sunshine,
Cuddle underneath a willow tree,
Indulging in a chilled and genial white wine,
A Chardonnay could do the trick for me!

Nowadays, hell it's no fun,
Havin' all wall-to-wall sun,
Hey nonny-no, who plundered the snow?
Global warming hit and winter went.

Global warming hit and winter went.
Global warming hit and winter went.

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Christmas time
Mistletoe and wine
Children singing Christian rhyme
With logs on the fire and gifts on the tree
A time for rejoicing in all that we see

The snow's gone clear white
Cliff Richard is shite
Infantile games the whole night
Merriment, jesting, inanity
A domestic tradition:
Three girls on me!

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by Alan Harris

Ice on pine needles--
can it hear the Christmas bells?
Can anything not?

Spider in the drain--
Christmas whoops in the parlor--
silent, dark, the drain.

Scrub Christmas tree, bare--
rooms echo--furniture gone--
mother and child laugh.

Sleigh ride all finished--
the mare, eating Christmas oats,
hears house noise, and snorts.

Flashing Christmas lights
entrance three speechless patients
slouched in parked wheelchairs.

Tree's all taken down--
year's end--where is Christmas now?
Deep within each pulse.

[Somewhat Entertaining Headline Resulting] **

Hark! The people gnash,
A starless Christmas has passed,
Praise his crownless prince?

Peace on their earth; for
Yonder breaks, a morn shimmers;
Happiness allures.

Ordered the hashish,
Laughed at reminiscences,
Inhaled merriment.

Downwards in straight lines,
Armchair classic in their trash,
Young child in small crib.

Success is thrilling.
Thank that circle of friends and
Open those bottles.

Year has ended; hence
Out with the obsolete and
Usher in the new!

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Once again, I am going to present the following verses by Pablo Neruda to you, first in the original Spanish, then translated as well as I can (with a few added words) into English.

Hemos Perdido Aun Este Crepusculo
Hemos perdido aun este crepusculo.
Nadie nos vio esta tarde con las manos unidas
mientras la noche azul caia sobre el mundo.

He visto desde mi ventana
la fiesta del poniente en los cerros lejanos.

A veces como una moneda
se encendia un pedazo de sol entre mis manos.

Yo te recordaba con el alma apretada
de esa tristeza que tu me conoces.

Entonces, donde estabas?
Entre que gentes?
Diciendo que palabras?
Por que se me vendra todo el amor de golpe
cuando me siento triste, y te siento lejana?

Cayo el libro que siempre se toma en el crepusculo,
y como un perro herido rodo a mis pies mi capa.

Siempre, siempre te alejas en las tardes
hacia donde el crepusculo corre borrando estatuas.

A Clenched Soul
We have lost the twilight.
No one perceived us tonight, hand in hand, on our promenade
as eerie opaqueness descended to conquer coloured panoramic landscapes.

I considered from an iridescent pane
a jubilant sunset across cool majestic mountain tops.

I deliberated a dazzling piece of sun--
sometimes it can burn, as a coin or a precious metal decoration, in someone's palm.

I remembered you, my soul squeezed in a deep inconsolable sadness
that you alone could recollect.

Where are you, dear?
Is there someone else near?
Quoting whom?

I lamented love's amorous passion, or desperation--
Its oppressive absence came to possess me,
as I am lonesome and you are too distant to appear.

An opened tome fell, alas, closed at sunset,
and a blue-bordered jacquard sweater rolled as a crippled dog at a man's feet.

Ever, ever, you are receding into night,
as statues are all erased.

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[Christina Rossetti's sonnet about Christmas anagrammed into a sonnet about Christmas cards, which also functions as a Christmas card itself if: a) A line is drawn through all of the anagram's g's following the alphabetical order of the 1st letters in the words that contain them; b) Every 2nd word in the even-numbered lines is marked]

'All Saints' by Christina G. Rossetti

They have brought gold and spices to my King,
Incense and precious stuffs and ivory;
O holy Mother mine, what can I bring
That so my Lord may deign to look on me?
They sing a sweeter song than I can sing,
All crowned and glorified exceedingly:
I, bound on earth, weep for my trespassing,–
They sing the song of love in heaven, set free.
Then answered me my Mother, and her voice
Spake to my heart, yea answered in my heart:
'Sing, saith He to the heavens, to earth, Rejoice:
Thou also lift thy heart to Him above:
He seeks not thine, but thee such as thou art,
For lo, His banner over thee is Love.'

My Ode On A Holiday Bond

When chivalry among us bears no mention
And merry eves are out of stock, it seems,
And even young ones' begs lose all attention,
My Christmas vigor engineers the scheme
To soothe these heavy heartaches and the bother
Myself and peers have noticed in our lives
By trading cards and fitting text with others,
Until a single comfort highly thrives.
What can our clan be like, or fits us more?
A happy team of kins sans any foes
Or reign of podgy judges who ignore
The new society beneath their nose?
That kinship might light every heart anew;
This year, I'll hone the ode - then share it, too.

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