HONEY, I don’t mean to be a
CYNIC, and I don’t want to
DAUNT you, but you can’t just
CHIRP at the birds and expect them to obey you.
ludic verbosity for the win
HONEY, I don’t mean to be a
CYNIC, and I don’t want to
DAUNT you, but you can’t just
CHIRP at the birds and expect them to obey you.
HONEY, CYNIC, DAUNT, CHIRP
The
CRYPTic crossword’s clues, enigmatic in form, too intricate for a
DUNCE like me who thinks he has to reinvent the
WHEEL at every turn, proved uncomplicated for my
NOBLE friend, who showed me where my cement brain went
wrong.
[This form of the Quordle poem is known as the Bumped Beginning and Hanging Stump style…]
CRYPTic visions as he stands in corner,
DUNCE capped, and held of no account:
WHEEL will turn. One day. He will be known as
NOBLE. Except in this town, to these classmates.
CRYPT, DUNCE, WHEEL, NOBLE
PRINT. What he said, the
VICAR, that God has laws, is portrayed as a
GAFFE. He had also said that God is loving. but laws do not s’il leur
PLAIT. God is only permitted to be one thing.
PRINT, VICAR, GAFFE, PLAIT
My Pinot Noir is the very central PIVOT
of my evening slurp in my penthouse CONDO,
when I cease to chomp poetry and MUNCH
on the less tooth-wrenching pizza of PROSE.
PROSE, MUNCH, PIVOT, CONDO
PUSHY–I grow more so.
GRIPEs–I have more than before.
BLOAT–it besets me. The more my
ASSETs grow, the less content I am.