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| | title, thyme, fiasco, rotate, fit her to a tee. |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.
12 comments:
"Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme"
Is a fun song title to fit into a rhyme.
But herbs and spices will sometimes fail
To be melodious, should ill fates prevail!
Mary, Mary, was a gardener contrary,
Who planted herbs to please elf and fairy.
Her human neighbors were much dismayed,
At the noisome plants that were thus arrayed.
She'd rotate her plants from one season to next,
Skunk cabbage and stink-weeds that smelt like a hex.
One season, a fiasco, all did rose perfumes emit!
This so teed off Mary that she threw a fit!
The cast of A Midsummer Night's Dream includes a chorus of fairies, sometimes child actors costumed as furry little animals. When actors abuse their costumes, the design department may levy a tax on parents to pay for repairs.
Hence, they sometimes...
Hit Fur with a Fee
Under the Midsummer title, with a fairy's luck,
Oberon lays his plot with Puck:
"I know a bank where the wild thyme grows....,"
(the place where Titania's been known to doze).
His plot turns out to be a fiasco
and the fairy queen falls in love with a "fatso."
The comedy builds neatly, scene by scene,
with humor and fantasy far from routine.
It all ends well, after lots of laughs,
(& then the actors give out autographs).
~OMK
Considering some of the smelly options she inflicted on her neighbors, Owen, Mary's reportedly painful "silver bells & cockle shells" might actually have been welcome--to some of her faithful friends anyway!
Loved that final line--neat and clever!
~ OMK
Rats!
My unreliable narration misremembered a clue word as "routine."
Please allow the following substitution for the final line of my 2nd stanza:
"...rotating humor & fantasy far from routine."
~ OMK
"Cooking Fate"
The family had an estate
they were determined to rotate.
The title would be shared with one
who would marry their only son.
Teresa knew he liked thyme
so she cooked him dishes sublime.
But when she added too much tabasco
her cooking became a fiasco.
The son told his folks not to worry
he didn't really want to marry.
He'd rather wait and see
which partner would fit to a tee.
Until your Teresa slipped him the sauce, Misty, I hadn't realized how long Tabasco has been with us. Nor how great its creator's family fortune has grown!
But this is only a side issue to the fate of the estate of your poem's "only son." While you do an excellent job of covering all of today's clues, you leave us hanging--Aargh!--over the question of his family's fortune.
Help!
Does he have a sister?
Will Teresa be given another chance in the kitchen?
Can he will his inheritance to worthy causes?!
~ OMK
Ol' Man Keith,
Family situations are volatile,
making us groan, making us smile.
I don't know this young couples' future
and whether their conflicts they'll suture.
If Teresa just wanted his money,
I'll hope that her future's not sunny.
But if she's nice, the fellow should learn
to forget and forgive, in return.
As for his inheritance--
he'll need to be older to take a stance.
I can't solve their problems, but only hope
that somehow they'll figure out how to cope.
Well said, my dear, it would be flashy & flamboyant
to claim to know everything.
In following the words, you're not clairvoyant,
but make what sense one might reasonably wring.
I know, for my part, I taunt & tease
even though you may be just a spectator.
I'm stuck with the idea you hold all the keys,
in the dead tradition of "omniscient narrator."
In truth, of course, we're all somewhat stuck,
caught in the roles between
gormless gazer and know-it-all schmuck.
We have to follow, can only dream
that our power is real, our control so large,
when in fact we're only disingenuously in charge...
~ OMK
OMK, thank you for being understanding,
and not at all demanding.
I appreciate your kindness
about all of our occasional blindness.
We can only do our best,
but at least do it with some zest.
I actually composed this last night but forgot to post. I thought I'd bypass the herbs and head for the golf course
She'd hired an elite golfer, a former tour pro
He'd fitted her out, finest gear, she was already to go
The time had come, she prepared to tee the ball
"Remember to rotate the shoulders she heard him call"
Knees bent , eyes on the ball this mustn't be a fiasco
And lo and behold , crack. And there it went, straight and true
WC
Incredible versifying today, just amazing
OMK with metaphors ablazing
Misty with culinary cupidity
Though compounded with certain stupidity
Owen started it with Garfield and Simon
Detouring over to nursery plays on
Then OMK rejoins with devilish diction
To counteract Misty's over optimistic fiction.
Finally Wilbur chimes in late as usual
With a golf tale, somewhat less than a jewel
What kind of folk do such zany rhyming?
Just us , the Jumble blogspot
Ship of fools
WC
Wilbur, so glad your young lady got excellent instructions from her golf pro.
Must say, I wish I had gotten the same. I may not be a terrific cook any more, but I hardly have any culinary "cupidity" (looked it up: "greed for money or possessions"). And if you really think my "cupidity" is compounded by "stupidity," how about using a more polite and less offensive word? On the other hand, you're right that my verses are always overly optimistic. And you have always been overly kind about my writing, so I certainly deserve a bit of critique from you. I'll do my best to take it to heart.
(P.S. Just joking, in response to your verse)
And I certainly don't consider your always clever verses as belonging to a "ship of fools".
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