A Pome a Day for a Year

Bungle is a most pleasant word,
Jungle not so much.

Is it the B?
The sound of buh scraping up against juh?
Making one a harsher inflection?

Tumble is lush, as is rumble and humble,
But Bumble is best and oh look,
there is the Buh, coming round the corner
with an unsurprising swagger.

You can make a fuss, or take the invite
plus one,
but that extra better be for the Bus,
with its long and slinky sound,
imitating the rounded red dome
of those London icons.

You can mutter, or even putter,
but nothing is as smooth as butter
when it drips out in spoken passages.