Where's Walrus...? Letter O

The Walrus and the Ombudsman

Suspend their morning jog.

“You lag, Milord,” the Walrus roar'd.

"You've slow'd us to a slog."

“You're Dynamo,” quoth Señor O.

“Me…? I'm El Underdog.”

Suckers, Losers or Mr. POTUS Doesn't Regret

     "Be All You Can Be"

                 -- Former Army recruiting slogan

Long-haul truckers…? Could be cruisers.

They ain’t suckers. They ain’t losers.

Snoozers should be sitting duckers.

Losers...? Nope! Nor be they suckers.

 

Pass-the-buckers might be schmoozers.

They ain’t suckers. They aint losers.

Musers...? Right! They're thunderstruckers.

Losers...? Nope! Nor be they suckers.

 

Oyster shuckers can turn oozers.

They ain’t suckers. They ain’t losers.

Beggar'd ruckers can’t be choosers.

Still, not suckers. Nor, yet, losers.

 

Texan Cruzers...? Some seem schmuckers.

They ain’t losers. They ain’t suckers.

Rural Hoosiers...? Few be chuckers.

They ain’t losers. They ain’t suckers.

 

Now your POTUS has reveal’d:

dying on some foreign field

turns you loser, makes you suck.

WTF, Drumpf…?! WTF...?!  

Where's Walrus...? Q & P (Compliments of Friend of the Blog GFH -- and with Apologies for the Heavy-Handed Rewrite)

The Walrus and the Quietist

To pilgrimage aspired.

Posed Walrus, “Say! Let’s leave today…

Unless your dogs be tired.”

Can't! Thank this cyst,” the Quietist

Return'd, “my sole's acquired.”

The Walrus and the Prostitute

Patroll'd the Tenderloin,

A-reminiscing all the while

Of General Burgoyne.

"'Gent John' rejoiced in drabs," Jen* voiced.

John blew a slew of coin."

     * Perhaps Jenny Diver from John Gay's 

"The Beggars' Opera"...?

Where's Dorian...? or The Picture of Ulysses Charcoal-Gray in Gray Charcoal on Canvas by Prominent Dublin Portrait Artist Albert O. ("Jacques") O'Metty...AND...Where's Walrus...?: Letter R

The Walrus and the Radical

Enblurb their urban street.

“Quote: 'Ave...? Ain't mean.' (From all we’ve seen,

With business 'tis replete.)"

Yet, "IT’S ABLAZE!!" ignites today’s

Drumpf trump’d up White House tweet.

Where's Walrus...? Q

The Walrus and the QAnon

Believer hit the road.

And, while they do, they style their coup.

(They speak in secret code.)

Their place de plot…? Which chamber pot

holds dumps in Drumpf’s commode...?

Uly* Does Ogden** Does Lewis***: Yet Another Alternate Poetical Take...

     * Ulysses Poe, nonsense poetaster and author of What A's Not For

     ** Ogden Nash, poet of light verse featuring unconventional rhyme schemes

     *** Lewis Carroll, composer of "The Hunting of the Snark"

"Twin Pins" 
table-top image
by amateur
photographer
Ulysses Poe

     "Consider the Snark"

Verse nonsense of Carroll’s... 

which we might not possess 

if it weren't for amateur photographer 

Charles Dodgson’s fascination with the work’s 

young dedicatee Gertrude Chataway, as he was

similarly with young Alice Liddell, young Xie Kitchin, 

young Bea Hatch and other innocent middle-class underage... 

...Victorian gairls.

'Bruno' Sans Sylvie: A Relentless Nonsense Carrollian Shenanagram in Eight (8) Double Distichs and a Single (1) Double-Distich Coda

     ('Bruno'…?)
Lewis Carroll’s Sylvie, Fairy 
Princess, brags 'bout brother. 
     ('O’Burn'…?)
Sev'ral names in Gaelic open
"O'-." O’Burn’s another.
 
     ('UnBro'…?)
Know what makes a brother...? Cop the 
opposite o' that. 
     ('‘U’ Born'…?)
'I' Born, 'Me' Rais'd, 'We' Wed, 'Us' Dead.
No third-person chat.
 
     ('Bourn’'…?)
Back again be Jason. He’s the 
universal spy.
     ('No Rub'…?)
Shake the can three times. Then spray it 
on and let it dry.
 
     ('Run, Bo!'...?)
Outta here, Ms. Derek! We sus-
pect your cover’s blown.
     ('…Or Bun'…?)
Comes in pastry – muffin, cruller,
sweet roll, doughnut, scone…
 
     ('Orb Nu'…?)
Thracians sought this thirteenth sphere, a 
sort of Üsküp Tao.
     ('Bou, RN'…?)
 Nurse she be -- one register'd -- and 
something of a cow.

     ('Buron'...?)
Element in chemistry, though 
missing from the table.
     ('"O, Urn..." (B)'...?)
Poem to a vase. Read version 
two, a Keatsian fable.

     ('Our BN'...?)
'Tis the nation's library. 'Tis 
ours, for we're from France.
     ('B U Ron'...?)
Be you Ronald...? Be you Donald...?
Be you Fartypants...?

     ('On, Bru'!'...?)
“Take Five,” Mr. Brubeck, won't you...?
Hit it! One…two…three… 
     ('Norbu'…?)
Diff'rent kind of kombu. (I crave 
kelp: eats from the sea.)

     Coda
     ('R U B 'n' O?'...?)
F U R, U B D oldest 
railroad in the land.
     ('Urb'n O'...?)
Ring road 'round the regnum...? Right! Though, 
on the other hand...

Where's Walrus...? T & S

The Walrus and the Tamarin

Advance to Marvin Gardens.

"Mein Herr," touts Tam, "I bear fruit jam.

Enjoy some, 'fore it hardens."

"Unless it's plum," responds her chum,

"I'll leg it, begging pardons."

The Walrus and the Scorpion,

Two guests at Mobile's Ball,

Sit, by some chance (strange circumstance),

like flowers 'long a wall

When blurts the bug, "Let's cut a rug...

'Less y'all prong'd palps appall."

The Ocelot: An Anagranimal in Five Quats and a Coda

To Cole…? Mr. Porter, this verse is pour vous.

Let Coo…? You are hereby allow’d to bill, too.

El Toco…? A matador famed for his grit.

C’e’t Loo…? “’Tis a bog” – one half Frog, one half Brit.

 

T. E. Cool…? One more Lawrence clone -- this one’s a rapper…

Et Loco…? …and crazy, too – albeit dapper.

Oleo Ct…? The amount of faux butter.

Ol’ Cote…? Ancient ke-keep for bi-birds. (I stutter.)

 

Oct. Leo…? The Lion in Fall, not in Summer.*

“Celt…? Oo-…”…? This stuff’s Gaelic, a wa-a-ay diff’rent drummer.

Toe Loc…? Your pinkie’s location (in brief).

'Lo et Co…? J.Lo’s new corporation’s motif.

     * Leo's dates are 7/23 to 8/22, smack dab in the middle of 

Summer. An October Leo occurs sometime in the Fall. (Nor, of 

course, is he The Lion in Winter.)

 

Col. Eto...? The Japanese Charge D'affaire.

Co-'otel...? A twin inn nextdoor. Aren't they a pair...? 

Le Coot...? Some old bird boasting feathers...or not.

To Cleo...? Hey, Nile Queen! Look what all I've wrought!

CEO Lot…? Bible’s first chief exec.

O’Tolce…? Irish fam’ly -- not Chechen, not Czech.  

Cot Olé…? Cheer for bullfighter, bray’d from your bed.

Ocelot…? Careful! That cat’s not been fed.

     Coda 

This postscript I add as a brief afterthought:

My bolt, anagram-wise, on 'ocelot''s shot! 

Where's Walrus...? V & U

The Walrus and the Valdosaur

Travers’d the Isle of Wight.

Said Valdo, “Gramps hung out near here --

I think I’ve got that right.”

(What Valdo guess’d was manifest

In bones spread ‘round the site.)

The Walrus and the U-spot Wrasse

galumph'd where none before

had dare galumph -- though Barron Drumpf

let slip, "When I was four,

you'd spot us there: a tot (me, Bar-

ron) and his Albacore." 

Where's Walrus...? X & W

The Walrus and the Xanthochroid,

Caught milling ‘bout the Mall,

Explain’d, “Black guys with sky-blue eyes

Are not allow’d to loll.”

(“Indeed, such lads,” the Walrus adds,

“Are thought Neanderthal.”)

The Walrus and the Whip-poor-will

Stroll’d Sarasota's streets.

The Walrus wore his Wellies;

The poor Whip-poor-will wore cleats.

“On lengthy routes,” said she, “no boots:

My instep overheats.”