ludic verbosity for the win
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.]
SWAM I in the emptying
SIEVE till that household hound, the
DOG, MAde a noise, then found
I was down the plughole BOUND.
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!]
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.
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.
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.
HONEY, come over here and check out the
PRICE of this bunch of radishes. This must be a
PRANK – almost a dollar per individual Brassicaceae?*
POUTY-faced is how I’ll be when I reach the checkout!
Brassicaceae can be pronounced Bras-si-kay-cee – and is in this piece.
If I was able to
EXCEL at knowing all things
AVIAN, I’d beat my
THICK little smart aleck
NINTH cousin in the IQ stakes.
Those golfers who EXCEL at the
NINTH hole, are those who’ve avoided the
THICK AVIAN that haunts the spot and
eats golf balls (and sometimes golfers) for lunch.
‘It’s offal how STOICs eat TRIPE,’ his
SHORT girlfriend complained. He replied,
‘I think you VERGE on mispronunciation, Miss. Treating a
TRIPE-eating STOIC as VERGE-ing on SHORT of taste.’