I found an ASCOT SHAWL on a SHRUB, COMMA.
(SHRUB SHAWL from ASCOT, COMMA, is difficult to say.)
Is there an ASCOT COMMA as well as an Oxford one? No idea. I SHRUB my shoulders, shift my SHAWL.
Phonoegalitarianism
VOWEL—the sounds that sing?
EXILEs from beauty those stops and liquids?
FUDGE! For, how can you not like every sound in, say, fudge?
SMART money is on all the sounds.
Sandclock
COUNT your days! They always
HALVE: those gone, those ahead. Yet, the second set are ever
RARER. You may long to
DALLY. But your sandclock’s sand is running out.
A tale of two classes
You smudge a man’s name, threaten with EXILE,
and do it while turning the Law into FUDGE.
You howl at the thought that his thoughts should be SMART,
Your malevolence rising at his contrastive VOWEL.
People Pleaser
FLECK of something in the
CREAM. This is a
GUMMY, say sticky, spot, what with
UPPER crust guests and my desire to please
Discovering the Dawn
COUNT Dracula, bored with dark of night, began to
DALLY with the thought of light. He woke to find the morn had broken. A
RARER action never heard. In fright he took to flight to
HALVE his chance of being seen, but seen he was, by one foul-spoken.
Muhahaha
GHOULish ghosts, not just in Hungary,
THINK, in the deep hours of the night, they’ve a point to make,
BLARE, gibber, grouse—yet unheard.
TOPIC?—materiality is not so cool—they’ll show it, once they lay hands on it.
Looking in the mirror
GUMMY, I am, without my precious
UPPER plate, and what was white is
CREAM. Do I detect just the slightest
FLECK or stipple? Oh, Age a blight is.
Word Choice
GOODY! Linguistic intuition confirmed.
MURAL, a spark of beauty, now partially scraped off by a
LORRY, errant, dented, partially wrecked.
ERROR! This kind of damage is done by a TRUCK.
Maybe it’s because I’m a Londoner…
I’m the kind of short-skirt, easy-going GHOUL
who has better things to do with my day than THINK-
in’ about politics, especially former PMs like Tony BLARE;
in fact, I’m brainy enough, in my own way, to discuss any other TOPIC!
