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| steep, adage, tavern, uphill, trash it.
Image from the Internet.
The opening poem contains all the words (or variations of them) from today's Jumble.
Comments are welcomed! And couching them in Poetry is definitely NOT required.
Do not explicitly reveal any of the actual answer words until after closing time, but embedding them surreptitiously in comment sentences is encouraged.
10 comments:
The radiation signature the sniffer caught
Was from the quandom cannon that it sought.
Artificial gravity the asteroid had got
Made every street a steep uphill to the top.
The front was just a tavern selling ale and beer,
But a password to the bartender opened up the rear.
Data used his super-hearing to learn the shibboleth,
And entered to the showroom of the weaponsmith.
The dealer knew at once that the android was a plant.
He cued a stasis bubble to freeze him like an ant.
Data had no chance to trash weapon shop.
As the adage goes, an android's just a bot!
(to be continued.)
"Oh, Dash it All"
'Tis an adage of old,
a warning to the bold,
"He who falls asleep in a tavern
whilst facing uphill
shall find it a steep moral hazard,
when waking, to pay the bill."
~ OMK
Woohoo! Two delightful poems from Owen and Ol' Man Keith--very different, yet each containing references to all the Jumble words and solution. Woohoo!
"Friendship"
Two friends and I visited a tavern
that was cozy and dark, like a cavern.
Our lunch would not be cheap,
yet also not really steep.
I ordered a salad with radish,
comfortable, like an adage.
We paid the bill with cash
and left only a little trash.
Then we took a walk uphill
where the view was quite a thrill.
Our visit showed that we cared
about all the pleasures we shared.
The offerings so far today seem good representatives of our "signature" styles. Owen is showing a rich sci-fi inventiveness, with a neat punch reserved for the end. (Well, at least the temporary end; he promises more to come.)
Misty, in following where the clue words lead her, develops a tale of bonding--of friendship in this case rather than marriage, but it is still her "happy ending."
Mine, if I may be so bold, is a favorite type because it is short, what I like to think of as an economical use of the words. Also, it aims for a punch. It has a hint of old-fashioned lingo, which I try to avoid--but am happy to use if it can amuse.
~ OMK
OMK,
You're not just a cool poet and cluer,
but also a kind reviewer!
Many thanks.
Thanks for the entertainment my three amigos. Nice easy Monday.
WC
Thanks Misty. Happy to be of service!
FLN. Wilbur ~ I confess I don't quite get your stats, but what I do get is mighty impressive, no matter what level of game you were pitching.
I was always the last one to get picked for any team--if I got picked at all. My dad isn't around to teach me, and I could never get over the fear of a falling ball, I was the kid who'd stick my hands way out in front to "catch" it, then close my eyes and turn my head at the last moment, out of the line of impact.
What you were able to do took real skill. Hours and days and years of drill, training, and practice. As much as a concert musician.
My only claim to bravery was in football. One time, during a pickup game, I stopped the other team's sure TD by tackling their best running back. I knew nothing about the proper way to tackle, but from movies I knew you had to "hit 'em low."
SO I threw myself at this guy's pumping legs, took a kneecap smack to my jaw, and saved the day.
No skill, and I got a concussion for my trouble.
But who cares!?
I was a hero!! (15 mins. o' fame, right?)
I was hoping we'd hear from Sandy--what she thought of today's solution. To me, it seem to lack any pretence of a double meaning. The verb itself can have multiple senses, depending on context, but today it had no such variation. Just the one, dull usage.
~ OMK
Isn't = wasn't.
Autocorrect is autodefect.
OMK, 0 hits, 0 ruins, 9 Walks and 11 Strikeouts. Hard to do in six innings.
My last game was a horror show. My job was to pitch the sixth inning. 2-2 tie became 6-2 loss. But next year was my year. My Coach was a former Major Leaguer,CF, and he put me there and it was my season of glory except we didn't win the championship.
He told me No Pitching. But it was a great season as Portnoy put it. I was successful as an intramural QB in college and my first love was basketball.
Another irony. In Newark, at the YMCA I was picked as a replacement for a black team that was holding the Court against all comers. The fifth player had to leave.
I finally felt appreciated.
I might have enjoyed the theater.
WC
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