A “Slough” is the poetic form of a muddy bog, or shedding dead skin, or stuff I say to my wife as we drive.
Sloo | sluff | sloe |
---|---|---|
Small dark globose astringent fruit of the blackthorn | ||
Zoroaster | Can you say “Wickaboxet?” | |
Come visit the museum of spores | ||
Mucilage | ||
The tater-tot world of the arcane | ||
Fetch the fiddle Mary! | Vacant lots: vacant are our lots in life | Madman mud man, grave digger with a trowel for your mouth |
Drear, drear, the sheep do shiver in the rain | ||
Willows weep as weep they must, their draped shrouds prepare for us the way | Yarmouth | |
Mayfly may be the maybe-fly could would should fly, the can-fly, can’t-fly, will-fly, won’t-fly | Shooby-Do |
this is cool, but I definitely don’t know how to read it, qbit – over my head for sure, but I wish I understood it.
-David
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Um, well, there isn’t anything to understand, so you are in good standing! LOL!
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YOU are impossibly clever! Pour me a Sloe Gin Fizz ?????
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I want one right now! I don’t think I’ve ever seen a blackthorn shrub though. Either in or out of a slough.
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I love it when you go all weirdo like this! This is fun. This might interest you: while reading “A Shropshire Lad” in preparation for this prompt, I learned that “keeping sheep by moonlight” was an expression that meant hanging in chains. Those Brits, what’re ya gonna do with ’em?
I knew you wouldn’t disappoint, and you didn’t!
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Ahahahaha! I’m so glad. My other idea for a form was “A British Sentence” which is like an American sentence, but obtuse and emotionally stymied.
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LMAO @ A British Sentence!
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LOLOLOL! Right?
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Wierdly interesting
Thanks for dropping by to read mine
Much💛love
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“or stuff I say to my wife as we drive” … Ha 🙂
“Madman mud man, grave digger with a trowel for your mouth” … Oh my.
Love this:
“Mayfly may be the maybe-fly could would should fly, the can-fly, can’t-fly, will-fly, won’t-fly”
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LOL! Can you imagine my poor, suffering wife?
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How’s about you write a poem to elaborate and enlighten me? 🙂
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I talk nonstop nonsense, but more to my children than my husband. I try to limit my word usage with him; otherwise, his ears will fall off from my constant yap-attack.
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Good use of the given words qbit and Happy Easter to you too!
Hank
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I’m glad you included Yarmouth. Busy, busy read, QB.
..
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As Shay says, lots of fun here in a seriously fascinating poem that doesn’t take itself at all seriously. Sometimes words are just words, but they always are also little suitcases we unpack in our brains, looking for the meaning, or just wearing them out of habit. Here you bring the luggage and do a Da Da dance with strewing the contents. I love the Sloo Sluff Sloe across the top. I believe it is actually pronounced “slauw” like bough, but English spelling makes little sense any day. Enjoyed much, and my sympathies to the spouse. 😉
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Ooh, that made me go down the dictionary rabbit-hole! Both sloo/slauw, but check out the “state of moral degredation.”!!!
noun (1)
\ ˈslü , ˈslau̇, in the US (except in New England) ˈslü is usual for sense 1 with those to whom the sense is familiar , British usually ˈslau̇ for both senses \
Definition (Entry 1 of 4)
1a: a place of deep mud or mire
bor less commonly slew or slue \ ˈslü \
(1): SWAMP
(2): an inlet on a river
also : BACKWATER
(3): a creek in a marsh or tide flat
2: a state of moral degradation or spiritual dejection
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Spiritual dejection makes sense, but moral degradation?–down in the mud, perhaps. I know the word mainly from the phrase ‘the slough of despond’ i.e., someone being in one–and who knows what archaic bit of writing *that* comes from.
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Right? (Also nudging you to look at prior week poem.)
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Who would have thought you could have so much fun with a word like slough?
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This is a wonderment of senselessness that made me smile and laugh! Willows only weep when they wallow though…..LOL Love this Qbit!
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Ahahaha, thanks for putting up with me!
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Hey you are awesome Qbit and anything that brings some laughter is true poetic medicine!!
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Ha interesting tidbits of the mind. I can relate to the piece about the willow as they do weep, it is the sway of the tree.
The riddle of the May fly… will it…can it… in its short span of the cycle of life.
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Thanks!! That is more consideration than this deserved, lol!
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