| | elder, flame, anemia, invite, (the) feed limit. |
| assign, island, sesame, oddest, murmur, easily, raised some issues.
Image from the Internet.
The opening poem contains all the words (or variations of them) from today's Jumble.
Comments are welcomed!
Do not explicitly reveal any of the actual answer words until after closing time, but embedding them surreptitiously in comment sentences is encouraged.
11 comments:
The campfire was dying, but the shaman still went on.
With the least approbation, he could continue till dawn.
Sometimes we would wonder, why did we invite
This storytelling wonder to visit with us tonight!
Oh, his stories were good, that was not the question.
But from his elder viewpoint, they held a suggestion
That our younger generation was too disrespectful,
That our training was anemic, and manner too neglectful.
As the flames burned away in the stony fire-pit
He paused in his story, to chow down for a bit.
This was his weakness, that would break his stories.
The feed put a limit to the recitation of past glories!
It was a fundamentalist church.
An unusual custom could be observed during the short Invocation that followed the Nicene Creed minute.
The Invocation was a call on the Deity to be present for the minister's sermon, and it served double duty by giving the congregation a foretaste of that very sermon.
These were demonstrative parishioners. If they approved of what they heard they shouted Amen and waved hankies.
Many could not afford handkerchiefs, so the preacher knew his Invocation was getting through even when he was praised from tissues.
~ OMK
He thought that his assignment
Was the oddest he had heard.
A Polynesian island whose
Inhabitants were mostly birds.
And there was to establish
Under the warming tropic sun
A McDonald's restaurant
With its famous sesame bun!
The living there was easy,
And the arches soon were built.
But getting it to function
Our hero felt a lot of guilt.
The islanders were innocents
Who spent their carefree days
Playing in the gentle surf,
Slept to the murmur of the waves.
It raised some thorny issues
Down in his heart of hearts.
Who could obfuscate the squawking
Of the drive-up order box?
Two solid poetic contributions from our leader today. A character study, followed by a funny piece contrasting the beauty of a natural setting with the "joys" (read "noise") of civilization.
How curious the effect of printing lines out--how what seem at a glance to be the short lines of a "jingle" are actually fairly long lines. The rhyme scheme here (the 2nd poem) shows that these are actually seven beat lines--rhyming couplets of iambic heptameter. It is quite consistent & works very well.
By breaking the lines at the caesura, alternating 3 and 4 beats, Owen gives the eye a rest.
And somehow it adds to the comic punch. Bravo!
(End of mini-lecture. Double Bravo--Bravissimo!!)
~ OMK
My goodness, what terrific poems, Owen--many thanks. I do the second Jumble, and it was fun to find all of the Jumble words and the solution in that sweet Polynesian island. Helped me a lot. And of course your play on the Jumbles is always a Sunday treat, Ol'Man Keith--thanks for that too!
Loved the poems, Owen. You have a real knack for creating a visual scene; I can see the shaman clearly in the firelight. And your second poem makes me think seriously not only about the noise, but also the effect of a Macdonald's diet on the poor islanders. Why must fast food be fat food???
As for the jumbles, today was not a good day for me. At least one roadblock on each stymied me. I did think the solution for the j6 was clever.
I was completely stumped by the 6*6. I literally worked my way up from #6 and finally grok'ed #1. The riddle-solution fell comparatively easy.
I first hunt for J-words in Owen's poems then I have to re-read them for full appreciation.
Sandy, yes a long saga indeed. And my poems are a mere synopsis.
She's referring to my late poem, FLN
WC
And, re. Owen's second poem: The "Islanders" who frequent the new McDonald's are the squawking birds.
Or is that another interpretation?
WC
Well, it might be read that way, because Owen did not specify a species differentiation between the "inhabitants" that "were mostly birds," and the "innocents" in the "gentle surf."
But sticking strictly to context (which is the rule), I'm going to bet our hero would not be opening a McDonald's for a penniless trembling of finches.
Or a impoversished mischief of magpies.
These and other avians are not likely to be using the "drive-up order box"
--although the "squawking" might come close to mimicking their language.
~ OMK
The invite to the Saxons had gone down in flames
As usual King John searched around to lay the blame.
Elsewhere Isaac had removed to his care the anemic Wilfred
And the lovely Rebecca never left
the wounded knight's bed
The Jewish elders might raise an issue with a goyem to tender
But the murmurs were easily squelched for the service he'd rendered
The Jewish conclave was virtually an island to itself
Inside the oddest thing was the luxury and wealth.
Rebecca, daughter of Isaac was a master of the healing arts
Sesame oil, costly ungents but mostly a caring, loving heart.
Feeding the wounded knight would take particular care
For she knew she must be very limited in providing his fare
She also knew that it was best that she and the knight stayed
But Isaac was bound for York where King John needed his aid
WC
To Owen I ASSIGN
My praise, for doing so fine,
Writing about an ISLAND
Not anywhere near my land.
With glee of sharp degree,
Ol'Man Keith says "SESAME"
To welcome a poet's quest
For the best and the ODDEST.
And so we welcome Wilbur
With rhymes of lovely MURMUR
That Sandy praises breezily,
Knowing they don't come EASILY.
I weep and wave my tissues,
In PRAISE to all your ISSUES.
Okay, I'm not a poet,
But I told you, that I know it.
Cheers, Misty
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