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The opening poem contains all the words (or variations of them) from today's Jumble.Comments are welcomed! And couching them in Poetry is NOT required.
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10 comments:
Wordle 19 May ‘23
Par=4
Wordle 699 3/6
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⬜⬜🟩🟩🟩
🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩
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CEh!
W699
Now I know how your guy lost his teeth;
it must’ve been while resolving a beef—
winning one side a laurel wreath,
but the other just coming to G….!
~ OMK
FLN, Owen ~ Were they ALL impounded?
___________
Today’s Jumble haiku:
(Sometimes badly-played instruments change their melodies in mid-song; and, sometimes, they change styles & genres altogether.)
“Woe, Flaky-Tone! ”
When playing kazoo
unwell, tunes are negated;
“blues” become “azures.”
~ OMK
Coleridge would in regions dwell
Of dreams of opium provenance.
Hallucinations of the unwell,
In zones without a wakeful providence.
Twas there he saw the azure walls
Of Xanadu, reflecting Alph's water
The caverns and the airborne wells,
And heard the sacred river's chatter.
He'd wake from realms fantastical
To write, with pen and ink and mind
Reports of his visions so mystical,
To negate the doubts maligned.
Coleridge's words in beauty true,
As if hummed into a gold kazoo.
OMK, I think so, tho the excerpt I read wasn't clear on that point. It mentioned that before the seizures began, he was only known to have 6 super yachts.
You might want to slow down the aging process, but eventually we must face our own mortality. Everyone copes in their own way - this is one.
Whoa- Own Sake
Above the azure skies
A land of promise lies.
When you feel unwell,
You look forward there to dwell.
A heaven-gate belief
May help overcome the grief.
Harps and kazoos will play
On that great awakening day.
On that night In the midst of grief
Chet vowed to turn over a new leaf
Turning unwell to well, negativity on its head
Recovery began to dwell
No despair, Serenity instead
No more dim lights in bars, azure skies beckoned
In the wake of addiction a new life was his he reckoned
And with new friend Lois, he's no longer alone
No more the blare of a kid's kazoo, now the symphonic zone
WC
"Recovery"
When Wendy felt unwell
she decided her story to tell.
Along with some friends she knew
she used to play a kazoo
while traveling on a tour,
wearing a dress the color of azure.
Their tour was considered great,
which the press did not negate.
Their music had a lovely tone
which put them in a whole new zone.
Remembering this made Wendy quake,
but the next morning she did awake--
feeling happy and well,
and ready her story to sell.
Yes, OMK’s W clue should be sufficient. But with Owen’s Charlie Brown reference as well, it should be a slam-dunk.
OMK- thanks for the FLN follow-up poem.
Your haiku today is hilarious. And such a great title (mine is lame). Great new term for blues music.
Owen- your Coleridge references and opium dreams show a different way of coping than my poem. Beautiful sight and sound images evoked by your words.
WC- Chet reminds us of another type of coping, that of dealing with addiction. More great imagery, and I love the last line.
Misty- your Wendy used the story of her illness combined with the healing power of music to help others and make herself feel better. Lovely happy ending. (But I am not sure about kazoo music having a lively tone!)
I had comments for all of you but they were swallowed up into cyberspace. Maybe OMK can restore them
There ya go, CEh!
I thought I might have forgotten how, but I stumbled back into it.
Thanks for you compliment to my little haiku. I like your title at least as well as my own.
Your music-scape for Paradise is a bit cringe-worthy. But then, I have a special aversion to the kazoo ever since I once produced a fake song-and-dance act, which climaxed in a 7-man "massed kazoo" rendition of "Stars and Stripes Forever"!
WC ~ The return of Chet! I like how your metaphor for his resolution of sobriety is abandoning a "kid's kazoo" for "the symphonic zone."
Maybe Bach instead of Ach!
Yay!
Owen ~ Leave it to Coleridge & his Opium to switch out a kid's kazoo in favor of a golden one.
Your poem is a beaut. It reminds me of all those nuts who claim drugs inspire brilliant poetry in their ramblings.
Yes, of course, it's true. Drugs can ope the mystical treasures deep in one's brain. Especially if one also happens to be Coleridge.
Speaking of the mystical, Misty, your Wendy awakens after her "whole new zone," feeling fulfilled as an artist and having apparently moved on from the kazoo she "used to play."
I bet her new instrument is the bass clarinet!
Or maybe the cello.
~ OMK
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