"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.