Take a Peek at the Mageek! (Behold, in Fact, a Baker's Dozen!)

Playswell bids you say "Hahwahyah! to an exciting new poetic form. Like its progenitor the haiku, the mageek is about syllable count. Unlike that ancestor, it's composition's as contrived as its forebear's is spontaneous.  


'Monster...? / Mr T's one!' 
     (Although   

          less of the    

          Magyar: more

          jus' for the
                           fun.

*  *  *  *  *

'Mitt Romney: /  "Not my time." -- R'

     "I'd an    

          Edsel be,   

          were I some

          futile A-

           -merican                 

                       car." 

*  *  *  *  *

'Illinois: / Is I ill...? No!'

     (Though Pe-
        -oria's

             playlist* I'll
             gladly fore-
                                      -go.)

     * Refers to the old media buyer's 
query "Will it play in Peoria?" (But is that 
a question anybody asks anymore?) 

*  *  *  *  *

'Woody Allen: / a lewd loony.' 
     That old
          goon married
          Soon Yi. He's
          potty, car-
        -toony. (And

                                 puny.) 

*  *  *  *  *

'Northeast / has rotten'
     winter 
           weather -- what   
        snows those un-
      -fortunates
          seem to have
                                 gotten! 

*  *  *  *  *

  

'Gilgamesh: / "I l _ _ _ ham, eggs!'

     "Oh, me,

          too -- over

          e _ _ _. Please, let's 

          fry up some!"

          Enkidu

                                          begs. 

*  *  *  *  *

‘Stravinsky / Navy skirts’
     leads to
          waves of trans-
         -vestite en-
         -listments by
          Russian com-
         -posers: the 
          subsequent 
          hazing's a 
          practice which 
                           hurts. 

*  *  *  *  *
 

'The Odyssey / doth (yes, yes!)'

     say much

          more about

          Homer than 

          uninformed 

          readers might 

                                    guess. 

*  *  *  *  *

'The Iliad...? / Ha! It lied':

     ‘Twas young

          Hektor who
          lived. 'Twas A-
        -chilles who
          (Homer says)
                              died.

*  *  *  *  *

'America: / I'm a race':

     See me

          run. When I'm

          done, not one

          alien 

          dare take my 

                              place. 

*  *  *  *  * 

'Napoleon’s / one’s pal...? No!'

     Not since

          Waterloo'd

          laid our lad

          (Elba's since 

          been his pad) 

                              low. 

*  *  *  *  * 

‘Elephants / Help! A Sten!’

       But don't 

            gun 'em...just 

            stun 'em: they've 

            left the pre-

           -serve yet a-

                             -gain. 

*  *  *  *  * 

'Alphabets / a hep blast!' 

      Still I 

           leapt, having 

           kept not one 

           letter from 

           archives so 

                            vast. 

(More mageeks to come: a work in progress)