Yeasty, Yardsticks, Yeah Yoga
Adjourn your advocacy.
Bury that burp.
Cathartic, catch-words and casualties.
Dab-hand danger dingles;
Friendly Fridays. Fiascos feverishly fecund.
Grudge, grumble, guarantee.
Herald a hemistich, a hexameter;
Jeopardise jigger, justify
Karate, keen kraken, another Kyrie.
Lady bugs, lambs, lame-ducks lament.
Magnify make-believe morsels.
Narrate nonstop. Nobble
Painfully, palimpsest, pallbearers presiding.
Quote the quintette.
Recycle, re-joinder, relax.
Sharpen, shamefacedly, sexy statements, sneeze.
To tattoo testicles terribly tempting though
Unforgiveable. Unlikely, upset.
Venerable vastier; vary valuate.
Winkle, work, and weave. Worst-case wager.
Yeasty yardsticks. Yeah Yoga.
Zoom zen. Znooked Zander.
Benita H. Kape © 11.4.2015
The only rule I have made for myself in our abecedarian is that each letter word that begins an alphabet line must also end with the same letter, different word. The joke in the poem is that Zander was my maiden name. See prompt after poem. I have used a Geddes & Grosset English dictionary in my search for words.
Today I challenge you to write an abecedarian poem – a poem with a structure derived from the alphabet. There are a couple of ways of doing this. You could write a poem of 26 words, in which each word begins with a successive letter of the alphabet. You could write a poem of 26 lines, where each line begins with a successive letter. Or finally, if you’d prefer to narrow your focus, perhaps you could write a poem which focuses on a few letters, using words that repeat them.