Category: MikeCrowl

I’m the OMEGA cadet, canny, hiding at the end;
Always wore the CONIC hat at school, but here no fool,
I’m CANNY, I know the ropes, I hold no hopes of being the
brave CADET, courageous – but I’ll be still standing when the others fall. 

The
DRAFT of my latest kid’s fantasy still seems
JERKY – yet I’ve gone through it more than a
DOZEN times. I have to keep my eyes wide open; if I
BLINK the whole thing will send up a literary stink.

So BOOZY am I, I find I’m totally
AMAZEd by the fact that when I put my tube
TOKEN in the slot, the turnstyle opens. I’d expected I’d receive
the latest MANGA by the comic artist Takahashi.   

The
FREAK, pursued by the maddened troop, foamed at the
MOUTH. Trapped at the crumbling edge of the
CLIFF-top, he paused. Time to drop, to die. The nearing
TROOP, open-mouthed, watched him tumble, peaceful, without a cry.

[Not sure what day these words belong to, but only one writer has used them so I thought I’d go all out 19th century melodrama.
And, I didn’t want to deal with TAROT!]

My LOYAL camel oddly quit, after many years of service.
A CAMEL more than oddly loyal, his loss made me quite nervous.
ODDLY, my loyal camel, quite happy, now walked in my neighbour’s train.
QUITE angry I, since oddly my camel’s loyal, now, to extra grain!

Here’s
CLEAT once more, two days since its last entrance. Sound the
CONCH that such a word gets its second run. Will sounding the conch
BLESS this occasion? Perhaps not, but a bit of hooloo hoolay won’t go amiss
TODAY.

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.     

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!

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.)

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…]