I found a note in my Roget’s Thesaurus today. It had lain there for nearly fifty years. Did that make it venerable? Antiquated certainly.
The note detailed the workings which could be called a tutor’s plan reduced down to an acronym: TOMIPASTA. (You’ll have to look that up.) I found it novel. You could call it modern. I am going for an acrostic for you Mr Roget; similar but different to the acronym.
So before I confuse us further:
Rock on Roget: they would have said.
Oh, my Lord: they would have said.
Goodness, gracious: that too.
Extraordinary: others exclaimed.
Treasury: said the man himself.
Jack knew his roll to be the boring voice of reason. Looking at what he had written, still he hesitated. This might be what she wanted.
There was the other option. Go hard, go fast. He picked up the map and marked a cross. This was where the track moved inland. If they pushed it they would get there with a day to spare. That last day would make the difference. It would give them time to talk, to go over the why and wherefores. They had so many decisions to rake through this time.
On the other hand, to relax, to be idle, to give her a chance if needed. They could go hiking at a later date. Hiking was what usually took up their week-end.
Reason won “And bring no book for this one day. We’ll give to idleness.” His email said.
Wiggly, woggly, Harry Harris Set out to walk to Moscow. Wiggly, wobbly, giggly goggly. He got no further than the terrace. None of which did dampen his spirits. Harry Harris never serious. Wiggly, woggly Harry Harris.
Benita H. Kape (c) 18.1.2022
This time we are to take on some narrative nonsense. I can recall how great my brother was at this kind of narrative when we were kids. Just trying to get him serious for a family photograph was almost impossible. So I guess I’ll dedicate this one to him. It took me a little while to get here but glad Harry Harris got to be.
Their beaks pushing through orange skin and juicy segments.
They did not expect a miracle.
But they made the most of it.
One sip and each a returnee.
Then another flew in.
Each bird ate in abundance and sang his happy clements
To the street: atypical,
None of them ready to quit.
They made of it a jubilee;
Their ample afternoon hui.
While we watched; marvelling at such different refreshments.
To your stories allegorical
The Tui’s adaption and wit.
Honey-eaters: what the Puriri?
Will Tui now be queuing
For their new-found, sweet dripping citrus indulgence?
Two voice boxes sing the oracle.
In an orange tree three Tui sit.
Benita H. Kape (c) 5.1.2022
Tui – a New Zealand song bird. These birds amazingly have two voice boxes; very melodious.
Hui – Maori word for meeting
Puriri – a sweet flowering New Zealand native tree
The did not expect a miracle. Line from “Black Rook in Rainy Weather” by Sylvia Plath.
We are so used to seeing Tui, honey-eaters, in our sweet flowering natives. It was a surprise to find them in an orange tree having a feast. Glorious singing birds.
“Rimas Dissolutas” French Literature.
I followed the example given of Sylvia Plath’s “Black Rook in Rainy Weather.”
Quote: “A poem that rhymes and doesn’t rhyme. For instance, each stanza contains no end rhymes but each line in each stanza rhymes with the corresponding line in the next stanza – sometimes employing an envoi at the end.
Here’s how the end rhymes would work in a Rimas Dissolutas with five line stanzas.
I’ve completed on arrangements and now there’s a hold up. Nothing happens in some quarters when it is a public holiday. Celebrations are on hold for me. The banks are closed. Even on-line nothing happens. What I wanted, taking its time to activate. It’s as simple as not having entered my mobile number to my bank profile.
I’m not of fan of the ubiquitous mobile phone. Simple as that. Now I must wait for a vague and distant activation.
Then the celebrations will begin. The corks waiting to pop.