Going to be a tad busy this weekend with visitors, annoying Klueless Decision Support System user calls (two already today and I haven't even had brekkie yet!). So I'm posting my bus ticket early.
The incandescently intelligent NanU has set us the challenge this week of using Blogger's verification words to make a poem. The orignal challenge is here. What everyone has done with it is here.
Looking at the words I had been collecting assiduously all week made me think of a far distant world, where some things are totally alien and others despressingly the same. I absolutely swear that every one of the whacky words in this pome is a genuine offering from Blogger.
The Stricnwa Blues
Zingsmo the Monion was sitting in a bind
He had noplex to go to, he was feeling left behind.
He couldn’t catch the winglys in their sudden, fluttered flite,
He had no-one to datie, he had no-one to fight.
Zingsmo the Monion was feeling rather down
His face was long and oungsful, and his tears would likely drown
A tralotli, a coloc, even, or a manchm, huge and grim
Now it seemed that no repows so sweet was ever meant for him.
Zingsmo the Monion eschewed his sullen fate!
He would saddle up his conepus, he would find his entsne-mate!
He would singsne her his encel-song, and lure her quickly in!
A life of breadab bliss, he thought, would be the cure for him!
Zingsmo the Monion soon met his heart's delight.
She smiled upon his encel-song, her noscr glowing bright.
He thought he'd die of happiness, his reonsci turning blue
When, 'neath the triple-banded moons, she said the words, "I do!"
Zingsmo the Monion, some nineteen soldles after.
A hive of screaming younglings has banished all the laughter.
His nagging mate’s coacewa has grown flaccid and much slacker
Oh, Zingsmo the Monion, you are a hapless facquear!
Zingsmo the Monion now aches to see the day
When he can flee his breadab prison and get himself away.
The moral of the story is, as we shall now rehearse.
Be happy with your lot in life - things can always get much worse!