"Erns up early worms get sure'll..." Spinning, Spinning, Ooh, Spinning, Spinning or Little Richard of Tehran: A Constrained Nonsense Rhyme

Erns up early
worms get sure'll. 

As santurs skirl, 
fresh chap (no churl) 
sports skirts of pearl.

Fast folds, unfurling, 

cast a curl. 

He hurly-burly 
twirls; they swirl.
(If me, I’d hurl.) 

Still, dervish, whirling, 
gets the girl.

"O, Captains -- America, Blood, Zero, Earth..." O Captain! A Constrained Nonsense Log in Rhyme Featuring an Alphabetical List of Skippers Captaining Ships Not Ordinarily Associated with Them

(Every skipper mentioned, as well as every ship, appears here in italics. 
If any prove unfamiliar to the reader, she is simply urged to "Google 'em.") 

O, Captains -- America, Blood, Zero, Earth --
thou be nowt if not captains courageous.
Some captains, however (there's rarely a dearth),
prove, on inquiry, captains outrageous. 
Might each, switching ships (here's an alphabet's worth), 
change the universe? Ponder these pages.

If Ahab had captain'd, instead of his Pequod, 
a carrack called Santa Maria,
then would Native Americans sigh with relief 
at the found'ring of "Chris's Idea"?
And would hunting white whales, like all searches for grails,
now be hailed as a failed panacea?

If HMS Bounty'd been captained by Beefheart 
instead of the wry Captain Bligh,
would its mutineers, rather than take to Tahiti, 
have fronted funk bands in Dubai?
And would Fletcher've been played not by Gable or Brando
but some far less self-absorbed guy?

If Endeavour'd been captained, instead of by Cook, 
by one Cap'n Horatio M. Crunch,
would be Botany Bay but one stop, since that day, 
on some serial cereal brunch?
And would Cook's tours be publicized "Crunch Tours" instead?
It’s a good bet they would, I've a hunch.

If the schooner We're Here had as pilot Der Captain
of "Hans-und-Fritz" fame -- and not Disko,
then would young Harvey Cheyne have become Daddy's bane
and migrated from Gloucester to Frisco,
where, no longer a kid, he'd do scenes in a vid,
playing Pancho to some sordid Cisco? 

If ace Captain Eddie's belov'd Flying Fortress 
became Captain Eo's space vessel,
then would World War II prove a minor ado, 
called when Ed asks Herr Adolf: "Who'll wrestle!"?
Or would spacetime get bent, with Ed's UFO sent
back in time to snuff young Georgie Jessel?

If Flint and his Walrus became SS Feathersword 
and its eponymous captain?
Would the forementioned Feathersword balk at such switch, 
crying, "No bloody way I'm adaptin'!"?
And would Captain Fantastic, with no ship at all, 
of a sudden start speaking Sahaptin? 

What if George -- "Captain Seafood" -- would try to usurp
Captain Gantu's Galactic Armada?
Would not Lilo and Stitch knuckle under and snitch? 
What would happen? In fact, next to nada:
George would grant Gantu's wish and serve everyone fish
with an order of fries, blah-de-blah-dah... 

What if Hook's Jolly Roger (once christened The Wasp)
were by Hornblower re-christened Sutherland?
Then would Captain Horatio, thuswise bereft, 
with no ark to embark towards the motherland,
taunt Herge's Captain Haddock, "You've no bark as well?
Must we both end our days in some other land?"?

What if Captain Insano had tossed in the towel...

(a work in progress)

Captain January

Captain Janeway

Captain Kirk

Captain Kangaroo

Captain Kidd

Captain Lorca

Captain Marvel

Captain Morgan

Captain Nemo

Captain Obvious

Captain Picard

Captain Queeg

Captain Ron 

Captain Sisco

Captain Sparrow

Captain Spaulding

Captain Teague

Captain Underpants

Captain Von Trapp

Captain White

Captain Xavier

Captain Yuri

Captain Yamato

Captain Zoom

Captain Zack

"You will find that algae hides your buggy..." A Baker's Dozen "On Approval" Outtakes for Your Approval: A Constrained Nonsense Alphabet in Rhyme

“You will find the dinghy by the jetty.” 

                  – Bea Lillie in On Approval from1944

“You will find that Algae hides your Buggy.”

“Do you mind that Cugie’s dyed your Doggie?”
“In a bind, Bea’s* Edgy, never Foggy.”
“She’s not dined. Still, Googie* hates her Hoagie.”
“Lowell's kinda Itchy. (He's a Junkie.)”
“Sue's behind -- and Kitty, too, looks Logy.”
“She’ll get fined if Maggie puts out Nookie.”
“Foodies find her Orgies use Pierogies.”
“Horacio signed ‘Quiroga,’ – not ‘Quirogi.’”
“They’re not blind: sane Ranis spurn the Suttee.”
“He’s behind; he’s Tardy (Uncle Urbie).
“Film fans find Clive* “Veddy, veddy Witty.’”
“Unassigned: X or Z…(Yaddi-yaddi…)”

      * Bea Lillie, Googie Withers and Clive Brook 
all appeared in the cinema classic On Approval. 
Other individuals mentioned here – Kitty Carlisle, 
Xavier Cugat, Margaret Thatcher, Horacio Quiroga 
and my Aunt Tillie Sprawl’s former husband Urban – 
merely attended a screening of the film.

"Imagine girls: upstairs maids -- Pearls..." Hommage a Paul Valery or Whores with Hearts of Gold: A Constrained Nonsense Rhyme

Imagine girls: 
upstairs maids -- Pearls,
Malvinas, Merles
'n' Mallorys --
who come, then, quick-
ly, go, through Mich-
elangelo-
hung galleries.*

None nun; none crone. 
Yet each one's grown
(each tummy show'in' 
its calories)
so flush that they’ve,
though blushing, waived
all wages – tips
and salaries.

     * Pace, Prufrock.

"Your news sounds so sibilant: savage and sad..." Appeal to Potus: So: Sir, Send Some Soon Sounding Silly! A Constrained Nonsense Study in Sibilance

Your news sounds so sibilant: savage and sad.
So sarcastic, self-serving. So seismic’lly bad.
Your news sounds so “So-spins-sad-Capitol-Hill”y.
So: Sir, send some soon sounding silly!

Your news sounds so serious, sexist, severe.
So shallow. (It sucks, your sick stories I hear.)
Your news sounds so “So-dies-that-compromise-bill”y.
So: Sir, send some soon sounding silly!

Your news sounds so shattering, shoddy and shocking.
So sinical (sic) when some Spanish you're mocking.
Your news sounds so "Senate's-so-run-o'-the-mill”y.
So: Sir, send some soon sounding silly!

Your news sounds so slanted. (Some Sundays, so slow).
Soporific. So sordid. (Superior? No!)
Your news sounds so “Sev'ral-steps-back/forward-nil”y.
So: Sir, send some soon sounding silly!

Your news sounds so style-less, so slovenly, no?
So sordid: so stolid. So schlock; so "so-so."
Your news sounds so “Such-shit-drives-Jack-to-kill-Jill”y.
So: Sir, send some soon sounding silly!

(For more late-breaking news, watch this space: a work in progress)

"One pair of /shu:t/s (one spelt it 'Shute')..." One Pair... & Others or Pairs of Pairings Not Pomaceous: A Constrained Nonsense Rhyme

One pair* of /shu:t/s** (one*** spelt it ‘Shute’)
once shared one pair of parachutes.
The shrewd galoots proved resolute: 
they'd wear, unaired, wet Wellie boots.
    * The first of the duo is Marchette Chute.  
    ** 'sh' here substitutes for a proper but 
undownloadable (at least by me) symbol 
for the fricative.
    *** The second of the duo is Nevil Shute. 

One pair of Bulls* from local shuls** 
declared one pair of parables.
One’s Mike; one's Scott. If heed's paid, you’ll
note knells untolled at tractor pulls.
     * NBA Chicago-type.
     ** Funny: they don't look Jewish.

One pair of grins – one's yang, one's yin –
once graced one pair of peregrines.* 
“Good day, friend Minh.” “How fares ye, Flynn...?”
(If frowns such clowns wear, no one wins.)
     * Not falcons but characters from foreign 
countries -- 
Viet Nam and Ireland, probably, judging by 
the names.

One pair of pets were ordered, “Get
thee b’yond yon pair of parapets!”
Their fate? No fete. (Here, on cassette,
view “Tigh and Tigger’s Death Duets.”)

One pair of Sauls from Montreal
installs one pair of parasols.
Just who plants whose none now recalls,
nor are there pressing protocols. 

One pair of dice – much-needed spice –
she’d introduce in Paradise.
“Eve! You’d entice? Heed Asp’s advice.
Uns-s-s-sliced, one apple will s-s-s-suffice.” 

One pair of Moores* one can’t ignore
once took one pair of paramours,
new senses ceding (veiled before)
to turns of phrase like “two-by-fours.”**
      * Michael and Mary Tyler and their 
respective partners. 
      ** Some early manuscripts transmitting 
these verses show “hardwood floors” or 
"foreign shores" here.

One pair of graphs (one can’t but laugh)
attempts one pair of paragraphs
to paraphrase, though just one half 
proves readable; the rest is chaff.

One peer of Keats (some l’hommes d’elites)
repeats one pair of parakeets’
loquacity: “Too-wheet, too-wheet!”
(L’eclairess’ment: “What’s shakin,’ Sweets?”) 

One pair of docs (one Groucho mocks)
apparently’s one paradox:
The short one’s wily as an ox.
The shorter? Dumber than a fox!

Two pairs of dimes – amalgams I’m
to view as pairs of paradigms
(financial fall guys for tough times) –
now fail, I fear, to “k’ching!” my chimes. 

One pair of Finns did, for their sins,
smear pairs of beards with paraffins.
That each bears pairs of double chins
dimmed damage to respective skins.

Of all accounts of pairs of mounts
in Lit, which pair be paramount?
If Silver Rosinant’ surmounts,
does Dapple Tonto’s Scout discount?

Do “noids” of Freud’s wax overjoyed,
annoying pairs of paranoids?
Of pity Sigmund proves devoid,
while Anna schizoids now avoids. 

One pair of lies (who’ll posit “why?”s?)
will petrify and paralyze.
The first? That God bestrides the skies. 
The second? That She prophesies. 

One pair of Rays (so someone says)
twin virelays in paraphrase
determined to compose…in days!
Fiasco? Let me count the ways. 

One pair of sites sits trained tonight
upon one pair of parasites.
Before they flee (row left, flow right),
let fly…and nuke their leukocites!

One pair of Ds (thus: PAR-OD-DY)
misspells completely ‘parodies’
and orthographic’lly ODs…
unless one’s speaking Parrotese.  

One pair of cleats to prink two feet,
one each for pairs of Paracletes.
Two’d be taboo; yet still they’re fleet.
Pete* poached the pair. (Pete always cheats.)
     * Precisely which Peter continues 
undetermined. 

One pair of blasts, one day long past,
destroyed one pair of parablasts.
One film crew on the scene was gassed.
Press sketches? Neither’s Nast’s or Chast’s.

One pair of cells, one chemist tells,
invade one pair of paraceles
within one’s brain, where – swell! – they’ll swell,
until one’s hearing “boids ‘n’ bells.” 

Who’ll dare to share au pairs – in pairs –
with Herr Moliere? Au pairs like theirs
could care for heirs of trillionaires.
(Their nightmares? Or their answered prayers?) 

One pair of guys (Would I tell lies?)
discovered pairs of Paraguays.
The one? A tropic paradise.
The other? Hot 'neath Paris skies.

Parameters? I don’t know yours,
but mine rate pairs of amateurs
who’re fabricating haut coutures.
(One hopes that “off-the-rack” endures.)

"A couple of parabolas,"
declared one pair of gabblers,
"results in psychobabble, sirs,
from mathematics dabblers." 

Paracelsus and a pair o’ seltzers await 

versification: a work in progress

"When asked, 'Have you...'" Beyond 'Bucket' Pas(s/t) the Buck(et List): A Constrained Nonsense Crambo

When asked, “Have you your bucket list to flesh out waning days...?”

I answer, “I’ve my duck it list. I’ve shunn'd that former craze.”
I’ve also drawn up chuck it lists for chores I shan’t discharge.
It’s filed with my upchuck it list -- a fetid file...and large.)

I’ve jotted sev'ral suck it lists to treat of life’s defeats.
My yuck! it list keeps track of folk who tweet unseemly tweets.
I’ve got a nip ‘n’ tuck it list – some lipo for my rear.
Close follows on: my ducat list. (Those lipo jobs come dear.) 

Asked, “Have you made your shuck it list of turnpikes you’ve not taken...?”
I answer. “My amok it list’s the syllabus I’m makin.’”
No “Walk!” Must run! No talk, just fun. Perhaps I’ll steal a raft.
(That item tops my Tom ‘n’ Huck it list. Some say I’m daft.)

My peers pen Sears Roebuck it lists to index stuff they’d buy.
They’ll need some megabuck it lists as debit cards run dry.
When dawns that day, their names I’ll spray on out o’ luck it lists.
(Or else they’ll make my schmuck it list, of clucks who shake clench’d fists.)

When show me their Canuck it list do lads from Saskatoon,
I read ‘em my Nantucket list, with no aim to impugn,
then flash 'em Winnemucca lists (avoiding Sparks, Nevada.)
We've all got pass the buck it lists: who claims we don’t knows nada.) 

I keep a Habakkuk it list for biblical perspective. 
A peep at my lame duck it list pegs pols who’re ineffective. 
I keep a keep on truckin’ list to index all my lists.
At length I'll need my f**k it list, when set to slit my wrists.

"Less mal must tomes of palindromes..." 'Semordnilap' Spelt Backwards in Duets and Quartets of Quatrains: A Constrained Nonsense Alphabet

     (‘aibohphobia’ and ‘boob’)

Less mal must tomes of palindromes
be coupled with than cobia.
Remember: ‘aibohphobia’’s still,
backwards, ‘aibohphobia.’

Some stock – bouillon – does Godfrey spawn
without the need of cube.
From shocks of flocs he stock concocts.
Plus, backwards, ‘boob’s still ‘boob.’

     (‘civic,’ ‘deified,’ ‘eye’ and ‘foolaloof’)

How scoundrels skulk behind the stars
and stripes one can’t forgive. Ick!
They’re sunshine soldiers, although ‘civic’’s –
back- and forwards – ‘civic.’

“We are as gods and might as well
get good at it,” Brand cried.
Forgets does Stewart: ‘deified’’s
still, backwards, ‘deified’?

My pyramid reads, “M  D  C  C…
L  X  X  V  I.”
Atop sits one omniscient orb:
‘eye,’ backwards-spelt, is ‘eye.’

To don one’s truss? Innocuous,
though never eejit-proof.
Remember: isn’t ‘foolaloof,’ spelled
backwards, ‘foolaloof’?

     (gig’ and ‘hallah’)

To lay down tracks on discs of wax
we blow our axes, dig?
And, through it all, we all recall,
how ‘gig’’s still, backwards, ‘gig.’

Soon, dialogues in synagogues
from Wien to Walla Walla
shall argue this hypothesis:
“(Claim) Backwards, ‘hallah’’s ‘hallah.’

     (‘I did, did I?,’ ‘jaravaraj,’ ‘kayak’ and ‘level’)

When pollsters bang, do I harangue?
Do I unleash my id? I
do not. I sigh, “’I did, did I?’
is, backwards, ‘I did, did I.’”

Ten grand, by gum, is quite some sum:
it’s air fare for my hajj.
And yet, reversed, ‘jaravaraj’
remains ‘jaravaraj.’

Objets which float – canoe, toy boat,
ark, raft – all craft which sway –
read diff’rent each direction.
‘Kayak’s ‘kayak’ either way.

You’re such a devil! As you revel,
handling your bevel,
you’re less inclined, perhaps, to mind
that ‘level’’s, backwards, ‘level.’

     (‘madam’ and ‘noon’)

With push comes shove. Reserve your love
for women of the night.
Remember: ‘madam’’s ‘madam,’
right to left or left to right.

Our father’s glib. Pa’s quick to fib
or croon a ribald tune.
As Daddy’s sons, we run to puns
like “’noon,’ half spun, spells ‘noon.’”

     (‘Ogopogo.’ ‘poop,’ ‘Qaanaaq’ and ‘racecar’)

Slim, Morag, Nessie, Mussie, Cressie:
beasts unparalleled.
Worse, ‘Ogopogo’’s ‘Ogopogo,’
either way (s)he’s spelled.

Don’t tell me you don’t smell it. Whew!
The toilet’s overflowing.
No matter how you spell it,
‘poop’’s ‘poop’ coming, ‘poop’’s ‘poop’ going.

In Qaanaaq are some folks bizarre:
none dwell much farther north,
though ‘Qaanaaq’s ‘Qaanaaq,’ from whichever
pole one sallies forth.

The coin gets tossed. Through clouds – exhaust –
the race is lost or won,
while ‘racecar’’s always ‘racecar,’
from whichever end it’s run.

     (‘sexes’ and ‘tenet’)

There's L. There’s G. There’s B, Q, T.
There’s many shades of gay.
There’s + as well. Thus, ‘sexes’ looks like
‘sexes’ either way.

This pol’s a souse. He’s such a louse
he shames both house and Senate
by hawking votes to purchase potes,
though ‘tenet’’s backwards ‘tenet.’

     (‘Ubu,’ ‘vav,’ ‘wow’ and ‘Xanax’)

Some purred, “Absurd!” That herd had heard
how, now, King Turd’s called Trump.
Yet, ‘Ubu’’s, backwards, ‘Ubu.’
(From both tacks, Drumpf’s a chump.)

There’s yod. There’s beth. There’s mem. There’s teth.
One’s shibboleths they’ll aid.
‘Vav’’s ‘vav’…not matter how – back, forth –
its letters be arrayed.

Most differ, back- and forwards:
Crikey! Blimey! Holy cow!
Gadzooks! Gosh! Jeepers! E-e-e-eek! Good grief
But ‘Wow!’’s still, backwards, ‘Wow!’

Alprazolam, diazepam:
each pill’s a silly name,
though none as fun as Xanax: backwards,
Xanax reads the same.

     (‘Yreka Bakery’ and ‘zuz’)

Yreka, California’s famous
bakery’s closed today.
‘Yreka Bak'ry’’s still ‘Yreka
Bak'ry,’ come what may.

A dollar’s not a Krugerrand.
A nickel’s not a dime.
Withal, a ‘zuz’ is, backwards, ‘zuz.’
Thus wraps this rap in rhyme.

"'Palin-' is a prefix meaning backwards or again..." Palinguistics or Sing a Song of Sev'ral (Seven) Silly Sorts of Sarahs: A Constrained Nonsense Glossary in Rhyme

     Palin

‘Palin-’ is a prefix meaning 
backwards or again.
It points to pathologic repe-
tition, now as then:
“…refewdiate…,”(?) “…our North Korean 
allies…”(?) – let alone
how Paul* goes “…warnin’ bells ‘n’ wringin’ 
Brits…”(?) (We should have known.)

     * Revere

     Palinurus

Aeneas punked his pilot in that 
epic named for him.
Palinurus? Sleepin’ at the 
wheel – and he can’t swim!
Swept overboard, he fails to drown. To 
foreign shores he’s blown,
there liquidated by the local 
press. (They should have known.)

     Palindrome 

What’s “Evil did I dwel; lewd I did 
live”? A palindrome,
a twofer: one shouts, “Gotcha!” while the 
other shouts, “Shalom!”
Both get you – coming, going. It’s a 
freakin’ a combat zone.
And toxic for exchange of views. (How 
could we not have known!

     Palinode

Alaska’s gub’natorial load lay 
half-towed, snow un-blowed.
Then Palin’s palinode* defaulted 
on the debt she owed.
To Juneau’s gens her back she showed. She 
split. Due south she rode.
Did ill her recantation bode? Of 
course. We shoulda know’d
     * A poem in which the poet retracts 
a former position.

     Paling 

A paling is a fence, one built to 
keep beyond the Pales
such neighbors as McGinniss, who an-
ticipates big sales 
with bombshells ‘bout the Palins. Will Mc-
Guinniss tell-alls own
the soapy Sarah saga? Nope! (Mc-
Guinniss should have known.)

     Palingenesis

Palingeneses? Rebirths. (Think 
Furher and his Nazis.)
They’re plupreoccupations of the 
lame-stream paparazzis.
P. plugs her docs. P. owns the box. P. 
tweets us from her phone:
No savoir-faire! Ma Grizzly Bear!! Big 
hair!!! (We should have known.)

     Palinal

‘Palinal’ means backward motion – 
sometimes said of chewing.
Rearward-moving, as Alaska’s 
absentee’s seen doing.
Upside-down and inside-out, to 
opposites she’s prone.
She says, “News makes me sad…so I don’t 
watch.” (We should have known.)

"Dump Don Drumpf? Hip-hip-hooray!" You've Gotta Pay to "Nay!": A Constrained Solicitation in Rhyme

Dump Don Drumpf? Hip-hip-hooray!
Who'll deed Drumpf dough to go away?
Each man, each child, each woman should
who fathoms what for them is good!

Which voter 'cross this USA

would not dump Drumpf this way...today? 
Each patriot could rave, "I gave
to save the homeland from that knave."

Each citizen could send a buck

to silence Daffy Donald Duck.
I'll send a buck. Hey! I'll send two.
I'll send a fiver! (So should you.)

"Who's busy dropping aitches? Some horse revealing raches?" Rarely Rhymes: Constrained Nonsense

I 'Rachel Maddow' Rhymes with ‘Aitches’

Who's busy dropping aitches...? 
Some horse revealing raches...?*
Some cow concealing naches...?**
No: Maddow (i.e., "Rache") is!***

 
     * A streak on the beak
    ** A bump on the rump 
    *** Rachel did study at Oxford.



II 'Michael Pollan' Rhymes with ‘Arugula’

That's rich – buying rhymes for 'arugula.'
Mr. Pollan’s both lavish and frugal, huh...?


III 'Sancho and the Don' Rhymes with ‘Purple’

I'm quizzing Quixote, "What rhymes, Don, with 'purple'...?"
When suddenly Sancho, astride Dapple's curple,*
opines, "Don’t ask Don: his brain's halt; he'll but hirple.**
Adds Don: "Pace, Panza, or suffer my nurple!"***

     * The hindquarters of a horse or, in this case, 
a very gentle donkey. 
     ** To walk with a limp; to drag a limb; to hobble 
     *** A portmanteau of 'purple' and 'nipple' 
(Clearly the Don is a bully.)


IV 'Faegheh Atashin' Rhymes with ‘Woman’

Googoosh: you're rife with rhymes for 'woman' -- 
you who weighs your wage in toman.*

 
     * Iranian singer Ms Atashin, aka Googoosh, 
surely remembers the toman, a Persian gold coin.


V 'William Inge' Rhymes with ‘Orange’

Say it once more, Inge:
"There are rhymes for 'orange.'"*

     * One is 'Blorenge,' referring to a hill 
in southeast Wales.


VI 'Sir William Walton' Rhymes with ‘Silver’

You'll search – oh, yes, you will -- fer
more words to rhyme with 'silver.' *

     * There is, of course, 'chilver,' referring 
to a ewe lamb.


VII 'A. A. Milne and Winnie the Pooh' Rhymes with ‘Kiln’

I can find no rhymes for 'kiln.'*
Does your bear know any, Milne...?

 
     * If 'kiln' is pronounced with the 'n' silent, 
a partially similar versified query can be addressed 
to young Till Eulenspiegel of musical merry pranks fame:
"Does Herr Straus know any, Till...?" 


VIII 'Tom Brokaw' Rhymes with ‘Plankton’

He who'd find a rhyme for 'plankton'
quizzes Brokaw, bloke from Yankton.


IX 'Genesis’s Noah' Rhymes with ‘Midst’

Pair the rhymeless word 'midst'...?
Surely, Noah, thou didst. 


X 'Robert Moog aka Rob the Builder' Rhymes with 'Plinth' 

Do you need a rhyme for 'plinth'...?
Rob will build one...on his synth.