[Rimbaud]

"Wrong forum!" I hear you cry.

"I defy you, stars!" quoth Rimbaud, and explained the game.

"'Tis a game of anagrams,
Of jumbled letter;
A trip through wonderful words,
To make them better."

"But..." stammered the hapless mortals, "But..isn't that a bit, well, easy for you, Rimski?"

"True enough," retorted the Perilous Poet, "Which is why solving the anagram is not sufficient to continue. The respondent must proceed, once they have solved the puzzle, with one of their own, the answer of which has the same first letter as the last letter of the solution to the previous riddle. You grok? "

"No, to be honest, Rim," muttered the crowd.

The poet sighed, his frustrations were increasing. He would need to iron them out. "Listen, imbeciles," he snarled, but was stopped as a cauliflower impacted upon his skull, cast from the hand of some unknown vagabond or rapscallion. "Ahem, listen, gentle readers..."

"Hang on, hang on!" shouted the crowd. "Listen, gentle readers? That makes no sense! Call yourself a wordsmith?"

Rimbaud drew himself up to his full height, a respectable one for a common garden frog, but not all that impressive in truth, puffed out his chest and stated thus: "Once you have solved the anagram, in examplem - 'Yer, Mr' becoming 'Merry' - you must proceed with a riddle whose solution begins with the last letter of the previous soultion, in this case - 'Y'. Yavanna, for instance. The anagram for that could be..."Nay, a van!""

"Oh."

"Here goes then," said the Perilous Poet.

Kal mi a cab, Magda barn!

[ November 13, 2002: Message edited by: Rimbaud ]