Word soup is what my mother
told me would happen
if I kept talking so fast
words jumbled up
like a game of pickup sticks
but more difficult to untangle.
I hear word soup on the news
and on those shows where pundits
interrupt nonsense
with poppycock
I wonder what would happen if
they were paid to listen
instead of talk.
Word soup infects the page too
some authors even manage
a nice thick stew
but with the right spice
even stew can be satisfying.
(above poem written April 7 for poem-a-day challenge; below, I present April 6th’s haiku thought)
it’s election time
and the race to the middle
is steady and slow