By evelight lay lackless when by happenstance,
Moved to stoke fires by a wordsmith's en-trance.
Salute you Oh Scribe whose savour words evoke
Mellow cheese, crusted bread and drippings fire smoked.
And on to kitchen with hungergreed,
Then to see what we shall find.
Greeishly seeking ** hum! Hubbardmum!
Remorsal to not spy no plump honeycrumb.
Hoardings bereft of gorgeulent fripwhips,
Desumed save for wholesmug and blandiment pips.
And on to bed with hungerneed,
Then to dreams alone to dine.
Ill-matched vestements, quick-foot before routine,
Grogful from slumberfast, not spruced nor clean.
Green of the wind that bites first to incense,
Cornflaked under boot, toiling towards drudgcompence.
And on to secure with hungerspeed,
Then to home with food on mind.
To sizzle, not to bake, fits the need to be sated,
Though the tangs now unaired bring relief once it's plated.
From first ****** to last spurt no sooner guzzied down,
With all gourmeaches now quelled and all yearnishes drowned.
I wanted to write a nonsense poem. I remember Roald Dahl's skill at creating new words so suggestive they never required defining, I remember puzzling over Lewis Carroll's Jabberwocky and trying to make sense of it. Rather than revisiting these and being overtly influenced I wanted to try and evoke my own language and see what came out of it.
