Category: extra

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.

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.

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.

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.