Rhymes with "Tom O'Nimble, Homonymbol"

     ...Abe
Lincoln...
'A,' blinkin'...
ape-link kin...
hey, Blynkin...?* 
     (Now, 
what must a linguist like Chomsky be thinkin'...? 
    * Partner in Wynkin/Nod & Associates

     ...be-
lievers...
'B' levers...
Bea'll leave hers...
Beale! Heave furs! 
     More 
issues unbroach'd by Ricardos* or Cleavers...?** 
    * Ricky & Lucy  ** Ward & June

     ...sees the
Sargasso Sea...
seize cigar gas, hose 'C'! 
     (Both would 
go unremark'd, were things left up to me.)

     ...comedy...
comma'd 'D,'...
calm Midi...
Colm...? Meet Dhee!
Each you've examin'd, though few do you see.

     ...a
treaty...
a treed 'E'...
Hut Tree Tea...
Hud, 3-D! 
     In-
telligent...? Nope. Apropos...? Yes, indeedy...!

     ...the
stone-deaf...
the stoned 'F'...
the stone Nef*...
thus toned, eff-______...  
     No 
messages, Hugh...? Why has nobody phoned, Hef...?)
     * The famous Nefertiti limestone bust

     ...the
genome...
the 'G' gnome...
the Jean Home...
thug Gene Holme…
     Four 
exiles! For decades they've not even seen home...

     ...old
age...
holed 'H'...
hold, Daitche! 
Whole day...? Je-_____...
     Each 
savant a jester; each joker a sage...

     ...the
ice axe...
the 'I' sax...
the eye's sacks...
thee, I, zacs... 
     My 
software she -- not once, not twice, but three times -- hacks...!

     ...a
jailhouse...
a 'J' louse...
hutch/alehouse...
Hudge, eh...? (Louse!) 
     Live 
embers one must with one's firefighter's pail douse...

     ...Auntie
Kay...
antique 'K'...
an' teak...? Hey! 
And: decay...
     As do 
Marlowe and Huxley, we note antic hay...

     ...a mo-
tel...
a moat...? Hell! 
'la mode 'L'...
amo d'El _____...
     So...which 
tale will to Curly and Larry Mo tell...?

...diadem...
dyad 'M'...
Dye-A-Dem...
"Die, Haddem!"
Each brings one luck. (Have no truck with no triad 'M'...)

     ...be-
hold: 'N'! 
Bea, holdin'...
bee hole/den...
be whole, Den! 
     Four 
homonym'd phrases (that third one is golden)...

     ...billed: the 
Sky Pilot 'O'...
build the Skype pile o' dough...
     Jammin' 
cats in pajamas scat, "Voh-dee-oh-doh...!"

     ...four
canapes...
for can o' 'P's...
fork Kanna peas...
for Kahn: hope, peace...
     Who'd 
can a man from Pakistan you cannot stand -- but can appease...?

     ...the
"I'll hike 'Q'"...
the jai alai queue...
the aisle I cue...
thee "Heil," Ike...You!! 
     For 
I, like you, don't like haiku, although -- no lie! -- I'd (sigh) like to...

     ...the
hard Hardy 'R'...
the heart-hearty "Arrr-r-r-r-r-r-rrr...!" 
     The 
heart ER's hard at work...? Har-dee-har-har...

     ...shares 
morning recess 
as Cher's mourning Reese Hess! 
     (De ré-
sistance…? She's futile -- 
oui, even pièces…) 

      ...duty
calls....
dude...? 'T' galls...
due: Tea (Gauls'...?)...
dew'd teak halls... 
     These be 
homonyms rude -- but not too rude...Ee-ee-ee-eek! (Balls!) 

      ...Isle of 
'U'...
I'll off Hugh...
Eyloff Ewe...
"Heil!" (a few)... 
     I love 
you...? Best to use these three: 'aisle,' 'huff' 'n' 'hue...'

      ...hel-
lo, VIPS...
(No...?) 
Hell: 'O'/'V' eyepiece... 
     Ring the 
Royal Canadian Mounted Police...!

      ...double 
you...
dub Bull "Hugh"...
double-U..
double hue... 
     Fooled us 
twice, Dubya, did. (Was it much trouble to...?)

      ...the
Second Sex...
the second's 'X'...
thus Hec conn'd Dex...
the secant's hex... 
     The 
dueler's Burr: my cousin dates his second ex. (His second's Tex...) 

      ...though,
why not...?...
thou whine, Ott...
the 'Y' knot...
the Wynotte. 
     Which 
homonym...? You choose. (Just don't serve the wine hot...)

      ...a
zebra...
a Z bra...
ass/zebra...
I seep -- rah! 
     A-
bove, so below. (Just don't go with no libra!)

Roads to Perdition

Tourists trav’lling through LA
drive turnpikes trimm’d in gilt ‘n’ tinsel,
Caddies pink will match each mink,
as limos' pairs of out-sized fins’ll.

     In 
Washington, D.C., 
     each 
avenue you see…
     seeming 
freshly paved in macaddams of money,
     is, in 
fact, baksheesh that’s blacken’d, 
     backpack’d 
in, by PACs, on pachs and 
     stack’d in 
sacks (knap-, haver-, ruck-, sling-, fanny-, gunny-).

They’ve main drags in Miami
paved in powder, gloss, mascara,
breast enhancements, hair extensions, cell-…
Oh, well: que sera sera.

Most major Motown miles
one drives not over tiles
but gobs of cobblestones of obsolescence.
The lessons thereby taught
(or so I’ve always thought)
are: Roads Be Earned. (But have they learn'd those lessons…?)

The streets of San Francisco
(we’re not to call it ‘Frisco’)
are paved in waves of multi-colored mufti.
I cannot tell a lie:
they’re fashion’d either by…
Edward Tufte -- or that magic dragon Puff de.

Vias in the Vatican
are paved in male machismos.
Cease, priests! Please sheath beneath your briefs
your busy little gizmos!

Don't Mock Le Jacques!

     Part
pierrot, part Presley be Jacques, Bach of Rock.

     Leak’d pa-

piers (so they say) show he rocks ‘round the clock.

     Twirling

hips, curling lips, he cerrocs donn’d in frock.

     Though the

man ain’t no Merce, don’t knock Jacques propter hoc.

Roe, Row, Rhosary: an Abecedarial Carol of /RO/s Array'd in One Hundred Twenty Nine Rows

The IntRO:

Life is...what…? A dream…? A scream…?

A stream…? A bream…? A meme…? Oh, no!
     Nope: 
life is but a -ro, row, roe, -reau,
-raoh, rho, -rohe, roh, rowe, hro, rop... 

The CaROl:

A 

     Young 

ROgues in bROgues All dROve Pierce-ArROWs 
Ages 'fore "A" Fords AROSE,
     ere 
ChevROlets (As spelt with their 'RO's,
or, as oft, misspelt with rare 'RHO's)
belch’d AbROad such foul AROmas --
men (And maids!) nosed…in A ROW.

B

     Sans

spats, Jack KeROuac 'n' BurROUGHs,
Beats, Beat Bounds Beyond Art's BurROWs:
"ThROugh our Burg, Babe wheels wheelBarROWs,"
William wrote. "Behold their furROWs!"
(Babe, though retRO, ain't no 'ho'.) 
     "Doh! 
That's no lady: that's...ma B-RO!"

C 

     Whence 

Come the newest pink-hued CastROs --
fresh Fidels* to fROnt for past '-stROs...?**
Think you'd Catch -- not spelt with RHOs -- 
     Chic 
Sheryls, Johnnys (tos or fROs),
     black
Jims, Corvidae, AbsaROkas --
each 'n' every one a CROW...?

     * An anagram for 'fields’ and thus

anagrammatically fresh.   

     ** Short for 'monstrosities' -- e.g., 

Juan Battista. 

D-F

     Do 

Bryans Dive for Clarence DarROWs...?
"O'er De top" be too De tROP,
     though 
bets on Cal Draw more DinéROs.
(FROm primeRO de EneRO,
bets are better bet in EuROs --
ROy can't bet: ROy's funds are FROze.)

F

     CROw

"Fi-ga-RO, Fi-ga-RO, Fi-ga-
RO, Fi-ga-RO, Fi-ga-RO, Fi-
ga-RO, Fi-ga-RO, Fi-gar-...(are
you who cROws those "FigaRO!"s 
FROm -glyphs, i.e., FROm hieROs...?)
...ga-RO, Fi-ga-RO, Fi-ga-RO...)

F-G

     S'ppose 

Fools sow oats at Mia FarROW's,
Fine-tooth comb her nappy 'FRO
     (an' 
Fan her Flush an' Fevered bROW)
     whilst 
dealing Frequent hands of FaROs
Flipping Bicycles, not taROTS
(Grab that crucifix! It's GeRO's.)
GROWing Greeks be freaks for GyROs,
GROWling, "How's your garden GROW...?"

H

Jesus...? He's the "He" who HarROWs,
HarROWS Him some saints an' HeROes
(this although He squirts a seR' hOse), 
HarROWs like there's no "tomairROWs,"
HarROWs Hell. (That Hunk's a pRO!)

I 

     (It's

vile, Is Isle of Doc MoREAU...
and Ikura Is salmon ROE.)

J 

Jury's out: did Jim* phone negROes --
Joes from BROoklyn, where a tree gROWs --
fROm extension 40 (fouR-Oh), 
Just to Jawbone Al Jar-REAU...?

     * Sgt. Jim N. Smithe-Magee

(the N stands for 'NepROmuk')

K 

King was Kill'd far, far fROm CaiRO

'cuz his eye was on the sparROW.
Martin, mi amigo caRO,
Keep us clear of war -- like WoodROW!

L 

   

Lou, aboard Achille LauRO,
Loved -- but failed -- to turn his taROT.
Had he so, he'd seen such sorROW
Launched when pirates take contROl.
(Losing Lunch of Leeks an' taRO
topp'd with carROts an' cilantRO,
Later Lou, too, Lost sang-fROid
an' -- LOL -- was Left to ROW.)

M 

James 'n' Mar'lyn: both MonROEs,

Mais, Merely one bROke bread chez CiRO's --
none at Cafe TROcadeRO.
(Also Missing: Tokyo ROse.)

N 

Gourmandette Ms Laura NyRO:

"Try the veal an' Nix the gyRO.

I'm Not old, yet I'm No tyRO,"
quoting Eco's Name O' ROse. 

O 

"Oremus!"…? Let us pray!

"OROmus!"…? Let us ROw!

("AROmas!”…? Let's let loose 

offensive odORs. Aprop(R)Os!)

P 

Mose' Plays Poker with the PhaRAOH:

"PaiR O' queens...? Pshaw: Treys...a Pai-R O'..."
Which Pal cheats...? Phone Hercule PoiROT.
(Stump'd in Po'ms, Pols rule in PROse:
is this why PhaRAOH's so moROse...?)

Q 

     "Que
RO-te, oi papai...QueRO,"

whispers Matt fROm MatamoROS.
Quiet Matt means "Te adoRO,
dude: your nose...? A dead, Red ROse."

R 

ROtten ROW...? 'Tis far fROm King's ROW.

Axl ROse ain't Marcus VarRO.
Abie's Irish ROse...? No ChaRO,
nor is Pete ROse Hank ThoREAU.

S 

Splittin'...? Shit! 'Tis Such Sweet SorROW.

Shall I Sit, till it be morROW...?
Think I'll drink Some Steins of StROH's,
then Search for clothes down Saville ROW.

T

     The

aeROdROme northeast of TruRO'S
now appROached by Taking MetRO.
There is wheR' JOsé "Quinn" TeRO
(so The song by JethRO Tull goes)
Taught The art of El ToreRO:
"Tora, Tora, Señor ToRO!"
Taunts José...as bull he ThROWs.

U

Quiz UngaRO, E. Rice BurROUGHs,

CiceRO, Great-Uncle SpiRO.
Bug Abe BurROWs, pRObe ShapiRO,
and, Until time's Up, De NiRO.
None -- not StavROs, not MiRÓ --
     can 
Understand those picaROs.

V 

VelcRO...? Vince Van Gogh Votes "SchmelcRO!"

W

     My 

Widdl' puppy -- Where, oh, WheR', OH...
Was his eye on Waters' sparROW...?
Wolf'd he too much dext- or sucROse...?
Will dogs Wag in Catfish ROW...?

X 

Xavier squats atop the PhaROs,

setting Xenophon's HieROas a polonaise-boleRO-
Xibelani dance for dobRO,
Xylophone an' Xalam -- oRO 
Deo...oRO por milagRO! 

Y

     Young 
Mary, Paul 'n' Peter YarROW:

if Youse Yells, "Ravel's BoléRO!"
while you're dancin' Day's "DanseRO..."?
Yeah! That would Yield SRO!

Z 

Zounds! The latest game fROm HasbRO

uses Zlotys, held in escROW:

Zoë's fours trounce ZorRO's  ZeROs --
after “Zixty-Zeven” thROWs.

The CoROllary

"Please, not," the Pope pleads,

"while I’m tellin' my beads..."

In Re: the Rules of the Games

     To
win at Acey-Deucey,
hang loose! Play loosey-goosey!

     Such  

state’s achiev’d, it’s now believ’d,
binge-viewing “I Love Lucy.”

     Who’d

play great games of Bocce
first must migrate to Karachi.

     There  

register as one “Monsieur
Wladziu Liberace.”

     One’s

dominance in Chess
(chess is a challenge, I confess) 

     requires, first

off, that rivals doff
unpleasant Chechen peasant dress.

     Who’d

call the shots at Draughts
shall swipe some decommission’d rafts,

     or purchase

some from my old chum who works as
counterman at Schraft’s.

     A

Euchre win’s your goal…?
Abandon random rigmarole.

     Begin by

sitting, briskly knitting,
‘neath a Tlingit totem pole.

     Your

kids you’d beat at Fish…? 

Just repeat, times three, this wish:

     “You lot shall 

play like Helen Hayes,
nor not like Dot or Lill’an Gish.”

     Who’d

stop his Go defeats,
needs to monitor three meets,

     and needs to

know the rules of Go.
(The truly ruthless player cheats.)

     To

“first” in Hare and Hounds
takes more than six or seven rounds.

     If you’re the

hare, exhibit flair:
railroad all rivals out of bounds!

     When you hear 

“I Spy something yellow,” 

play it cool: just coo (don't bellow),

     “What’s that

in your hand…? A Krugerrand…?
Good Lord! It’s Limoncello!”

     No

proper Janggi tourney
may be won without a journey.

     You are

not Korean…? I’m foreseein’
hirein’ an attorney.

     Who

loves Kings in the Corner
must (unless he’s born a fore’gner)

     learn the

state of play while watching (say)
Miss Muffet or Jack Horner.

     You’ll

like relearning Ludo.
First, though, take a class in judo.

     Then (though

it’s not nice) nick both the dice –
lest mucho ‘scudo you’d owe.

     Were

mastering Mahjong
to sound its sighing siren song,

     grab sev’ral

tiles – indeed, grab piles
and piles! (Would I direct you wrong…?)

     Who’d

shine at Nine Men’s Morris,
while avoiding suff’ring tsoris,

     merely

needs to own: “I’m not alone.”
Relax, bro! Join the chorus!

     To

medal in Othello
calls for top-notch personnel. Oh,

     yeah! (And

ev’ryone, when all is done,
says you’re one med’lin’ fellow.)

     To

mold Parcheesi mavens,
certain states establish havens.

     Just check

into one! Before you’re done
you’ll quench Parcheesi cravin’s.

     You’d

take the cup at Quoits
(which first-place trophy was Detroit’s)…?

      You’ll first re-

place the trophy case
(which case was formerly Jon Voigt’s).

     One’s

best approach to Risk…?
Keep all your operations brisk!

     Each piece a-

pace you must deploy –
and then destroy the royal fisc!

     The

winning round in Scrabble
will attract no hacks or rabble

     And the

dudes who win all go “all in.”
It’s only duds who dabble.

     You’d  

mess about with Twister….?
You had better watch it, mister!

     Your poor 

threadbare bott be not the spot
to cultivate a blister.

     Your

Uncle Wigg’ly player
(nor be none known to me feyer)

     wanders

in a rut, and’s nutty – but…
I’ll neither “Yea!” nor “Nay!” ‘er.

     Who

likes Paletti, Villa
(or vice versa) often will a-

     pprove some

other games with stranger names –
'Charibdis,' (say)…or ‘Scylla.’

     Who’d

set his sights on War…?
None but a nincompoop, Señor, 

     would grab a

gun. He’ll find no fun
gets won upon a foreign shore.

     Who

wins her “ins” in Xeko
sleeps on sheets by Marimekko.

     Plus, she

also owns five valve trombones
and keeps a speckl’d gecko.

     You

wish to win at Yahtzee…?
First, avoid the paparazzi:

     They’re so-o-o-o

hotsy-totsy, and ex-Nazi!
Join your local ROT-C!

     Zoom

Schwartz Profigliano.
Is this game for real…or guano…?

     It’s for

real – no schmooze –
play’d best with booze.
(Do not play man’-a-mano.)

Science Schmyence!

Once the whole world was
fire or earth, water or air.
That’s when God was head honcho.
Dissenters were rare.
Then a diff’rent reality
Albert E. bared:
it seems e equal’d m
times the speed of light squared.

Cast your mind back to Al,

him of mad-as-March hair.
To eschew Albert’s “view of the u”…?
Who dared dare…?
Yet some did disagree:
I, for one, bellow'd, “Merde!
Are you kiddin’ me…?
Energy’s m times c squared…?”

What else…? Dark matter, 

black holes and quarks everywhere...?

Leapin’ leptons, bad bosons...? 
Far fruitier fare...? 
My Old Testament cosmos
can ne’er be repair’d –
not when energy’s mass
times the speed of light squared.

Are there cosmoi in parallel…?

Damn’d if I care!
Does my clock slow
the faster I go…? C’est la guerre!
I’d prefer Al’d not shared.
I’d much rather be spared
each new round that compounds
“E be (zounds!) mc².”