ludic verbosity for the win
LUCKY you only have to
EMBED some words in a Quordle poem once, as spitting
LLAMA, arrogant, stiff-necked, makes a poor bedfellow for
OTTER, supple and smooth, swift and flitting.
[Turns out the first word should have been MUCKY. I need new glasses.]
IRON Your own shirt, honey. I
WAIVE it over to you. Now there’s no
BASIS for saying, when I
VAPORIZE it, that it’s all my fault.
Feet like FLINT,
Arms that FLAIL,
Head like a HAZEL
Nut, learning the RUMBA.
FLINTy Finn MacCool,
FLAILs his blistered hand, nurses wound, imbibes
HAZEL juice, is transformed, a Salomon among druids-stands out for wisdom like
RUMBA dancer at a minuet.
LARGE larch, back of the garden, seems to be
LEECHing sap, sadly. I don’t see it as tears, I
SHIRK the pseudo-simile. The leeching leaves a
MUDDY mess midst the searing scarlet tulips.
COVER me quickly,
AUDIT my speech, you
ENDOW me with blessings, sweet bird, through your
TWEETs.
LOFTY perch, topgallant royal, sea at every horizon,
FEIGN stoic, yet feel all thrill, fear, wonder,
CHEST below with unread books, I read this height, this view.
BERTH is only for sleep: my heart dwells here.
STILTS my head was tottering on;
CAPER my soul did, at an awkward
ANGLE, the night I saw the staid pastor,
CIGAR in mouth, smoking in a manner untoward.
The
BELLE of the ball sadly has
DROWNed in a pool full of
ALGAE, with nary a sound. Let’s
HEIST (I mean hoist) her onto the ground.
POUNDing out the miles/kilometres, I hit a
CLUMP in the road, bump both knees more than a bit and need a
WINCH to pick me up and place me in the ambulance. Now, instead of walking down the
AISLE I’ll be in a state of somnambulance.
