| || shift, mound, oppose, motive, "moo" point.
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:
Well, I groaned, but it wasn't in appreciation of any sort. This solution is a
baaaad pun!
Or -- I'm just feeling tired and cranky.
Time to get some sleep.
Get some for me, would ya?
FLN: Athelstane's escape is well done.
A lot of action demanding close attention in your words, Wilbur, and beautifully handled!
~ OMK
"No Points!"
Casey Carter stood 6 foot 4 atop the pitcher's mound.
The opposing batter was Shorty Simms, much closer to the ground.
The difference in height meant gravity would work on Carter's side,
adding speed to his slider,
his pitch of pride,
as it broke to its final glide.
He shifted his torso forward & squinted to read the sign,
then reared back up to his towering height & began to uncoil his spine.
Shorty gulped in awe as he stared at that giant unwinding his wrath at him.
He swung in fear & failed to connect (he'd thought his chances slim).
On top of his natural advantages, Carter was motivated to a no-hitter
because this no-good Yankee team was the one that had frittered
away his chances as a minor leaguer,
back when he was just a beginner,
and (all because he'd had a blister)
pulled him, forcing him to be a quitter.
Well, he was having none of that
today.
He'd make 'em pay--
at bat!
~ OMK
"Shift Gift"
Zack's business was a zoo,
not a place to coo and moo,
just a messy, busy joint.
Well, you get my point.
He spent days just blue and miffed
and decided it was time to shift.
His workers might oppose,
but it was a move he chose.
But some understood his motive
and continued to stay devoted.
Their decision not to oppose
gave him much-needed repose.
And so a new job he found
in an office on a mound
where his work was solid and sound,
and Zack was soon renowned.
A very pleasant poem from our Misty today.
The first stanza made me chuckle--because of course I thought Zack was an animal keeper or vet before getting set straight, reminded of the idiomatic use of "zoo."
Then I enjoyed the easy swing of language as I followed Zack's business career.. I imagined his secretary canceling appointments, "I am sorry, but Mr. Zack is blue & miffed today."
It was nice knowing he had some loyal workers, that it wasn't a hard face-off between labor & management. All in all, a brief but successful career--and poem!
~ OMK
Loved your poem, Ol' Man Keith--and saw the solution in your title, of course. Your complexity is always amazing, as is your verse. Found all the Jumble words here, there, and everywhere, and loved the final rhyming of hitter, flittered, and quitter.
And, thank you, as always, for your kind comments about my production. It keeps me willing to give it a try every morning.
I greatly enjoy your poetic efforts, Misty. I look forward to more. Btw I had another installment of Ivanhoe FLN that OMK referred to.
Speaking of... OMK your tale reminded me of Lefty Sprocket, a mound denizen of the past. Casey I'm guessing was not a southpaw. And if he can knock off the hated Yankees he's okay in my book.
WC
I hesitated to post that one, Wilbur, because I'm not really up on baseball.
My guys' names are invented, of course, but so was the reference to "Yankees."
I didn't have the New York team in mind. I was merely thinking that my tall Casey was a boy from Dixie, angry at the unnamed offending team's northern roots.
But I am happy to change his/my thinking to take up your version. Why not?!
Was this Lefty Sprocket an unusually tall pitcher?
~ OMK
I'll put it here since it'll be FLN when anybody reads it. I had three back in June I see
June 17, 2020
tibia, would, utmost, hopper, put up with it.
Wherever Lefty played he would be embroiled in deep intrigue
In '98 he pitched in a fast upstate Double-A Maine league
One day a quick one-hopper glanced off his tibia bone
Lefty gave out a whelp of pain and fell down like a stone
Lefty did his utmost to pitch and play in pain
But it'd be a month or more before he'd pitch again
Thus it was no surprise to see him drinking heavily again
A jug of wine in one arm, in the other a fifth of gin.
"From what side does Sprockett throw, that rummy?"
"He's a Lefty, so his Port side you dummy?"
"Is Sprockett the fastest pitcher you ever saw?"
"Do I fear that bum?. That souse? pshaw!"
And so new baseball lexicon was born in the Bangor Bulletin
And the wilds of Maine will surely never see his like again.
Meanwhile the Bangor manager was throwing a fit
"That bum better sober up, I won't put up with it!"
*****
uesday, June 16, 2020
suede, bliss, feline, shroud, beside herself.
Lefty's origins are shrouded in mystery
Ask him and he'll tell you story after story
"I was a teammate at the Cross* of Sockalexis"
The Truth: He saw him once at practice.
He'll persuade you he was a master of feline cunning
His outrageous lies were absolutely stunning
Stories and lies he'd be blissfully crafting
But hearing them I was beside myself laughing
****
Monday, June 15, 2020
cameo, soupy, injure, stanza, pass time.
Lefty had an air of nonchalance, a certain savoir faire
Unusual in this broken-down, bush league borough
On in age, tired arm but his look said "I've been there"
But truth be told his stay in the Bigs was just a cameo.
"If I'd not been injured, I'd've shown 'em all a thing or two
The ol' soup bone just needed oiling up, now it's feeling fine"
But the last Stanza of the anthem was barely through
'Fore opposing batters were driving balls on the line.
The manager trudged out to the mound to make the call
"If I leave you in any longer I'll be charged a baseball crime
Your fastball's flat, your curves are straight, just give me the ball"
And from the stands came the sad words "Busher, you're passed your time!"
******
Post a Comment