I take out my secondhand FLUTE
to play the fifth piece from my father’s FOLIO.
His cantankerous, expository PROSE
LEACHes from the page, putting me off.
End of play
Author: Mike Crowl
Undoing the cleat
The
SNARE of my soul’s Enemy is a misshaped
CHUNK of metal pinned on one side to me, like a
CLEAT that joins me to him. Praise God for the
TURBO jet power of Jesus Christ to release me!
Two days’ worth
The
youngest SCAMP is AMONG those who have to
HALVE their SHIRTs (a bet) in order to join the
CLASH with the superior OUTGOing team:
‘REBUTting the GULCH’ is the name of this contest.
(Two days’ worth of Quordle words proved beyond me.)
Maiden’s Distress
STRIP loneliness from my heart, O
WOOER of mine. Turn this broken
STATE to peace; let this sheep keep the
FERAL words I hold from being spoken.
[Discovered in the journal of a young lady whose lover found her too blunt for his liking…]
Convoluted
TEASE my PLUM Pudding DRYLY with BASIL.
Basil, my plump one, teases dryly with wit and
a kind of plump humour, dry Lycra-garbed Basil. Tea’s
‘ere, Bas. I’ll plump pillows for you, teasely dry you.
[When the brain can’t behave itself.]
This label was one of a series that appeared on the Plum Pudding canister.
The anonymous bug
SWAM I in the emptying
SIEVE till that household hound, the
DOG, MAde a noise, then found
I was down the plughole BOUND.
Tongue-tied
We pronounced his name GAZER – he was Gaza Fraknovari, a
Hungarian boy whose family had escaped the revolution.
He had to find a way to LUNGE into the Kiwi-English all around him
Tongued by schoolboys careless of whether he could speak or understand it.
Unlike Audras Kuzma, who spoke BADLY, and never learned to speak
Better, Gaza’s mind was quick; in adult life he took a degree and passed
Easily. The mind of one GAUDY with the colours of the English language, the
Other, still fluent in his native language, lost in the language of his new country.
[Partly true, partly not. And totally out of the normal DQP format. Sorry!]
One second of fame
STRUT my stuff in the movie for a piffling amount of
MONEY. My full day’s work ends up in a tiny
CAMEO where I’m glimpsed for a second as part of an
OCTET, gawking, and playing the piano.
Dream of my childhood
NANNY comes in sight along the narrow piney path. The
SIGHT of her brings images of hot soups, warm biscuits, sweet
PINEY smells from the trees at the back of her garden, the
perOXIDE she still uses to clean everything, including the bath.
Sunstroke
SHONE on my wrist-watch, the sun.
WRIST tastes of chili, that’s weird.
CHILI con canoe – er, carne – how dumb!
CANOE reflects water; sun shone, I steered.
