SCRABBLE

Playing the "12-Tile" variant of the game(*), I drew (in alphabetical order) 

E I K L M N O O R S T V

(*) Using the longer 'rack' invented by Montgomery Spoonbill, and applying the 3-words per turn rule which is the norm in countries with 27 or more (sometimes many, many more) letters in their alphabets.  Worth a visit. They are all south of the Equator as you would expect.

I was playing against myself (Harbinger's 'Solo' Rules).  As soon as I saw these letters, three words sprang to mind but, as often happens under Harbinger, were instantly forgotten.

So, working from left to right (English system), I made - first

LIKE MOON RVST      The judge disqualified RVST as not being a real word (c'mon! It's RUST. Well, nearly) and told me he didn't LIKE the way I was MOONing around. Awarded a Harbinger Score of ZERO and a Yellow Card.  Said I must try harder.  OK, what next?

  

MORE VOLT SINK      Three real words at last!  YEAH!  Harbinger score 377, a Fibonacci number!   

LINK ROTS MOVE.    Better. Makes sense, but not a lot.  Harbinger Score 128, or 2^7 if you're binary.    

KIT LOVES NORM.     All the letters in a sensible order. A little story, too!  Best wishes to both. 

RON MOVES KILT.     Another little story. 

MOVE TORN SILK     Why?  You might well ask.

MORONS LIKE TV    Now I'm really on fire!  Making a social comment, too.100 Bonus points.

ROOM V TINKLES.    Better see what Room 5 wants.  (Harbinger permits Roman numerals in lieu of the actual words, so . . . )

LIV MORE KNOTS.    Fiftyfour more knots, geddit?

And make what do you will of the following.

MONK LIST OVER. 

OK, MINT LOVERS 

KLIMT ROVES ON  

TONS MILK OVER

SILK ROOM VENT

SILKEN TV ROOM

Then, out of nowhere, my first three words came back to me!  Without wasting a moment, I rearranged the tiles.  I laid the words out on the Scrabble board.  They looked familiar.  I'd seen them somewhere before . . . . 

STORM  INK  LOVE 

 . . .  scoring 351

And leaving me just 18 words to explain where this nonsense came from. It came from HERE

FETISH

Give me a girl with garlic on her breath!

Fragrance of warmer air and jugs of wine.

Oh, such a one I'd love half way to death!

Not all the way, I could not spare the time

from thinking of her mediterranean hair,

falling about her shoulders and the wood-

en chopping board, the cloves of garlic there

blithe to be squidged to make her lips taste good.

Sometimes she'll munch mouthfuls of allium raw –

pungent disulphides plating pearly teeth,

promising scented lungfuls and much more.

Ah now I live and breathe, while underneath

the cooker-hood the pasta rolls and boils

as drops of garlic essence she drips in.

Not too much in case the penne spoils

nor so little her perfumed burps seem thin.

As aniseed is to the hunting hound

so hints of garlic urge my manly pride

and when she smoothes the garlic butter round

her person - she can run but she can’t hide.

Keep, if you please, your "Midnight" and "Chanel,"

witches' brews that all real ladies scorn.

Let me inhale the aroma I love well -

garlic sweet as sunlight each new dawn.

Rosemary at Poets&Storytellers United asks us to reflect on perfumes, fragrance, natural or manmade.

I'm sure you will find efforts worthier then mine HERE.