Verse Brief, Illustrated (World's Second Shortest Poem)

          ...and yet...

Pairs Not Pomaceous

One pair of Chutes (one spells his ‘Shute’)

once shared one pair of parachutes.

The two proved resolute, to boot:

they’d wear, unair’d, wet Wellie boots.

“A couple o' parabolas,”

declares one pair of gabb(e)lers,

“results in psychobabble from

most mathematics dabb(e)lers.”

One pair of Bulls, one day in shul,

declar’d one pair of parables.

One’s Mike; one’s Scott. Pay heed and you’ll

hear bells not toll’d at tractor pulls.

One pair of grins – one’s yang, one’s yin –

once graced one pair of peregrines.

“Good morning, Minh.” “How fare thee, Flynn…?”

(If frowns such clowns wear, no one wins.)

One pair of pets were order’d, “Get

thee b’yond yon pair of parapets!”

Their fate…? No fetes. (Here, on cassette,

view “Tigh ‘n’ Tigger’s Death Duets.”)

One pair of Sauls (whose…? Montreal’s)

installs one pair of parasols.

Just who plants whose none now recalls,

nor were there pressing protocols.

One pair of dice – much-needed spice –

Eve’d introduce in Paradise.

“S-s-s-so: you’d entice…? Heed Asp’s advice.

One uns-s-s-sliced apple sh-sh-shall s-s-s-suffice.”

One pair of Moores one can’t ignore

once took one pair of paramours,

new senses ceding (veil’d before)

to turns of phrase like “two-by-fours.”

      * One early manuscript shows

“cellar doors” here. Another has

 “parquet floors.” Both are early.

One pair of graphs (can one but laugh...?)

attempts one pair of paragraphs

to paraphrase, though just one half

proves readable; the other’s chaff.

One peer of Keats (from 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

diminish’d ethane-damaged 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 overjoy’d,

annoying pairs of paranoids…?

Of pity Sigmund proves devoid,

while Anna schizoids now avoids.

One pair of lies (who’ll pose the “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

determine to compose…in days!

Fiasco…? Let me count the ways.

One pair of sites sits train’d tonight

upon one pair of parasites.

Before they flee (go 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 poach'd the pair. (Pete always cheats.)

One pair of blasts, one day long past,

destroy’d one pair of parablasts.

One film crew on the scene was gass’d.

Press sketches…? None like Nast’s nor 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 swear 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…?)

A pair of guys (I tell no lies!)

discovered pairs of Paraguays.

The one…? A tropic paradise.

The other…? Shades of 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.)

Paracelsus Hohenheim,

a Swiss physician friend of mine,

says, “On one pair o’ seltzas dine

each day. ‘Twill keep ya feelin’ fine.”

'-Oy'phabet: an Abecedarial Decade

At ABCs, girl, I’m your boy --

gilt-edged, world-class, the real McCoy.

Heads up! Achtung! Take heed! Ahoy!

as I some twenty-six deploy.

An A fronts ‘Arundhati Roy.’

A B initiates ‘bok choy.’

A C gives birth to ‘corduroy.’

A D begins (sans ‘t’) ‘Detroi-.’

Edging forward, I employ

both E and F for ‘Eddie Foy.’

A G, in Yiddish, opens ‘goy’

plus half of Boorman’s “Hope and Glo’y.”

An H initials ‘hoi polloi’

and ‘Helen’ (formerly of Troy).

I takes the lead in ‘Illinois.’

(It also sets up ‘Iroquois.’)

A J…? It’s just to jump-start ‘joy.’

A K begins not ‘carp’ but ‘koi.’

An L…? ”The Thin Man”’s Myrna Loy.

An M heads Beckett’s play “Molloy.”

Annoyingly, N’s not for ‘noy,’

but O (sans ‘l’) opes ‘Olive Oy-.’

A P prompts Rumpole’s ‘Pomeroy.’

Q leads, not ‘Matsu,’ just ‘Quemoy.’

An R initiates ‘Rob Roy.’

An S inaugurates ‘St. Croix’

and stomps its impress on ‘Savoy.’

It takes two Ts to ‘Tinker Toy.’

A U starts ‘Ubu Roi.’ (Think “Roy.”)

A V…? V launches ‘Vic-e-roy.’

To kick off ‘weiner’ (saveloy),

A W you must deploy.

An X prompts…not much. (As a ploy,

friends recommend the word ‘xystoi.’)

A Y leads ‘yo un nino soy.’

(From where I sit that’s “I’m your boy.”)

Last, lest these crambos start to cloy

(or worse: to thoroughly annoy),

a Z originates ‘Zoy Zoy.’

Now...let me hear your “Atta boy!”!