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| _feeble, grassy, yonder, opaque, infant, shrimp, a "sigh" for sore eyes. Image(s) 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.
15 comments:
Donnie found the cabin, and let out a sigh.
An eyesore he needed to fix up to a prize.
Flipping properties seemed so easy, he'd heard,
But the needed renovations were often absurd!
The building was surrounded by a nice grassy lawn,
And a great view of yonder mountains at dawn.
But the ramshackle shack wouldn't be a piece of cake.
Even windows were encrusted so they were opaque!
Altho an infant at carpentry, Donnie went to work,
But his efforts were feeble, he was just a clerk.
At last he hired a pro, who cost him a bunch.
His shrimpy profit when it sold, barely bought him lunch.
I'd never heard of it before, and thought Knurek just made it up. But LIU --
"Keratoconjunctivitis refers to an inflammatory process that involves both the conjunctiva and the superficial cornea. It can occur in association with viral, bacterial, autoimmune, toxic, and allergic etiologies."
I still don't know what it is, but is a real thing!
Again, I 'm give up my day off because the Jumble words were too inspiring. I'll find another day to kick back n the week ahead.
"Eyes? Asinine for Sure!"
The view to yonder grassy strip
is opaque to feeble old eyes.
I'm shrunk
to the size of an infant, a shrimp,
with my senses unwise,
like a drunk.
~ OMK
"Wandering Wife"
Molly was a feeble mother
who just let nothing her bother.
She loved her infant much
and would let nothing him touch,
but to noise she was opaque
and often kept him awake.
Her cooking was a bit limp.
except when she made shrimp,
whose sauce she didn't skimp.
On walks she would often wander
on hills and the grassy yonder.
Her husband would worry and churn,
waiting for her return.
Her showing up was always a surprise
and a sight for his sore eyes.
Once the family was finally united
he was relieved and greatly delighted.
Poor Donnie--how sad that he worked so hard on restoring the property, to no avail. Hope he gets a break in your next verse, Owen.
Ol' Man Keith, surely you don't feel as aged as the poor speaker in your poem.
No, you're still pretty spry
in my eye.
(Not that I've ever seen you in all these years. Some day, if you ever come to Laguna, let's get together for a cup of coffee).
Owen, yay for your recent comment on the Corner today.
Owen ~ I guess the lesson learned by your Donnie is that skills observed from the outside--like house-flipping & carpentry--may not be fully understood or appreciated for the demands they make on one's time and ability.
Donnie underestimated the size of the challenge and ended up paying a pro, thus spending whatever profit he'd hoped to see.
I have a feeling this lesson hits closer to home than might appear at first, certainly to one would-be poet (yrs trly) who has a self-flattering hunch he might just toss off some brilliant ditties, casually catching up to the mark set by real experts who have been doing it for years & years!
Fat chance, eh?!
Misty ~ Looks like this is a day for losers. Your Molly, a feeble mom, limp cook, and unreliable wanderer, outdoes Donnie in the way her aim falls short of her skills.
She is fortunate in having a husband who is apparently ready to forgive all in return for her shrimp dinners--and occasionally just showing up.
Your couplets do her a proper service, slipping in "mills" (more than she deserves, right?), and offering but a single triplet to ease the routine.
I dunno: maybe Molly had some good days in her youth. Time & age catch u with the best of us.
On that note, yes, I fear I am pretty much enfeebled these days, Prof. Misty. Oh, I'm "spry" enough, so long as I'm comfortable in my power chair. To look at me then, you see a normally-seated old gent in full voice and 100% alert to the world.
Probably able to arm-wrestle any local champ.
But don't catch me when I'm leaning on my cane (or canes, plural). The disillusionment can strike hard.
So, although I appreciate your invitation, I doubt I will ever see Laguna again. I stick pretty close to home. That's why I so enjoy visits from ex-students and old friends.
I was sky-high after a recent post-pandemic visit from an old actor pal, ten years my junior, who played"Horatio" forty+ years ago to my "Hamlet" in Virginia. He & his wife have re-located to Hollywood. What a treat to see him after so many decades.
Please know you have a standing invitation to spend an afternoon here at "villa ocho." Maybe sometime when you're going to be on campus anyway. Come on by for coffee or a glass of wine.
I'm home most days.
~ OMK
FLN: Wilbur ~
I just paged back to last night to see what I missed--and I see Nora and Charlie are still at it!
The French conclusion seems happy enough, with Charlie apparently appreciating Nora's curried lamb (what a radical difference from my "boar" version!).
But then why were you forewarning us with that spooky adjective, "fateful"?
Why was Charlie cursing? He alarmed Nora, to the point where she had to soothe him.
All seems unwell, under the placid surface.
Shouldn't she take the knife out of his hand?
~ OMK
Glad you can still arm-wrestle, OMK, something I sure can't do anymore--not that I ever could. I haven't been to campus in years, but if I ever get up there for some reason, I'll let you know, and take you up on that glass of wine.
The plot thickens ...
"Charles, said Nora, we're having a guest tonight for dinner
It's my cousin's girl, Lois ". "Oh, my, it's been years since I've seen her.
My memory's opaque but she was just an infant, merely a shrimp
Over the years she's moved hither and yon. I had a glimpse
But only feeble, She was in the park picnicking on the grass
But that was years ago. She'll be a sight for sore eyes, come what pass.
WC
OMK, Nora knows how to
handle Charles. He smelled that lamb and didn't know. His idea of cursing was phooie and poppycock. "Damn" was unusual.
WC
Wilbur, is that the same Lois? Will you be writing more about her past?
Great incorporation of all the Jumble words, Wilbur--making this a very clever poem!
Wilbur ~ I guess in some circles "poppycock" marks a "fateful" occasion.
And yes, the plot certainly thickens with the reappearance of Lois!
I have to assume that if she is Nora's cousin's girl, she is herself also Nora's cousin. Al a certain point, cousins just keep breeding more cousins.
It may prove interesting to get Nora's reaction to Lois' life story. Looks like she has no idea of the AA experience.
~ OMK
We all has a challenge today with an oleo of J's. Owen went a different direction- I've often day-dreamed about using my GI bill, learning some plumbing and carpentry, getting a VA loan then building an empire.
OMK, you are indeed getting ecxistential on us. Using FEEBLE literally. You certainly didn't look that way in those pictures.
Misty's mindless Molly was another thing. At least she can cook. I've known gals like that
Sandy, I too have had the thought that Sunday write-ups seem a little sparse. Then again there's a lot of words, perhaps little time.
And finally, to repeat, did anyone take advantage of my "THERE'S THAT" hint Friday night.
I wouldn't dare post something like that on CC. I did leave a far more opaque hint one time.
Didn't that "unknown" character once post as Bobbi? Amazing that there's people who get their rocks doing that.
Onto the end of August. Anyone feel guilty of the sigh of relief when a hurricane goes another direction? Irma chased us all the way to Beaufort , SC
Oops, here it is Monday already
WC
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