| || going, foggy, grubby, future, bug off.
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.
9 comments:
Going to camp in summer time
When I was a kid was just sublime!
The Oregon coast was a mystic place.
Each morning the fog hid its face.
Every day we wore our grubbies,
Went exploring with our buddies.
Fought off bugs, mostly mosquitoes;
Each one we killed had more sequels!
Captured tadpoles and salamanders
Crafted ashtrays, wove gift lanyards.
Swam in lakes, and the ocean.
Of future days we had no notion.
Love the poem, Owen. It's good to see you.
This was definitely Monday level. Solution jumped right out, and the clues were easy too.
A fine poem, Owen, evoking many memories of my own. Thank you for it!
Sandy ~ Thanks for your comment on today's poetry.
I hope you saw my reply to you FLN. I know you like it when we write about the jumbles.
"Off with the Blues"
-or-
"Plug On!"
Owen's poem made me think of Camp Royaneh,
of the dread of going my first time away
from my home. I was depressed & sad
and for 2 or 3 nights I had it bad
before finding the joy in that beautiful place.
Our open cabins meant we'd face
each foggy day as a bracing brisk morn.
Most days we'd rise before the horn
blew reveille, and up we'd hail,
eager to spend our time on the trail
on horseback or hiking, leading or in line,
all grubby, free of washing, amid redwoods and pine.
Why bathe when there was swimming? Oh, and talks on hygiene...
(For we were Boy Scouts & had sworn an oath to be clean.)
After that first camp, I looked to future summers,
but most without Royaneh turned out to be bummers.
~ OMK
I went to camp too, OMK, but it was Girl Scout camp! Don't have many specific memories. One unpleasant one, of a girl who tormented nerdy me. But I remember the campfires too. And swimming, which I never mastered, but it was fun.
Camping in the redwoods, yes, when I was quite small, with my family. I think redwood trees are the most magnificent things on this planet. Hate to think of them burning, but I believe they are survivors.
"Loving our Dog"
Our Dusty is a sweet doggy,
but sometimes his brain is foggy.
He should be better at knowing
what he's doing and where he's going.
He's getting a little chubby
and keeps himself a bit grubby.
Well, yes, he's a very cute pooch-er,
though we worry about his future.
He's suffering from a bug,
and doing it on the rug.
He's also got a cough
which really ticks him off.
So rather than just be smug
We decided to give him a hug.
Misty, lovely ode to that grubby,buggy rascal that you love so much. A guy who fancies himself Mark Twain wrote about a girls dog, Goldie, who gets a haircut every Summer- Goldie Shorn(get it)
.
The girl was so upset. Among adjectives to describe her beloved was "fat".
I thought I commented earlier about OMK and Owen's poems. Both excellent, per usual. Two different talents and styles. I've got a slow day so I might try something.
Easy J day.
WC
Thank you for your kind comment, Wilbur--and it would be great to get your poem to go with Owen and Ol'Man Keith's neat offerings this morning.
Not to cross pens with Sam Clemens, I was nevertheless inspired by Misty's gift to Dusty:
While age is not responsive to a cure,
a therapeutic hug is sure the pure
expression every little doggie craves
of love.
: : : : : : : : Since we pal’d around in caves
and forged our special bond, each lil' mug,
I say, each K9
chug-a-lugs hugs
...and sips kisses like wine.
~ OMK
Dusty just loved your poetic doggy response to the Doggy Poem. Many thanks for that!
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