Study in Contexts: a Quiz

"Who was that mask'd man...? I wanted ta thank 'im." 
Lone Ranger episode...? New York-Presbyterian Hospital ER...? 

You decide!

The Minotaur and Other -taurs: a metrical mini-tour

"Myrna L'Oyster"
(from"Poissons 
of Interest")
Ulysses Poe
colored chemical 
marker on copy paper
digitally modified
5" by 5"

     "Oh, boy: here goes PapaJim again, 
sayin' somethin' dumb."
                        - Anon from Baltimore
Whilst lab'rin' in the Labyrinth, 
I eyed a lad (his head...? A bull’s; 
he bore a bull's behind to boot) 
whom Ovid "labull'd" Minotaur. 
     
I ask'd, "O Ove, d'yall know at all

some cousins of that Minotaur --

same heads up top, same tails, same tush, 
but one inch tall: the minitaurs…?”

I fail’d to grill that Roman sage

if he'd heard tales of other -taurs --

same tops, same toes, but featherbrain’d

and foolish -- namely, ninnytaurs.

Or if he’d run across rude -taurs

who liv'd to drop below their tails

their bully drawers, exposin' butts

for prudes to view: crude moonotaurs.

Of -taurs I've long read -- lore in logs

from old sea dogs 'n' fisherfolk

of -taurs who swim with five-fold fins.

These minimals...? The minnowtaurs.

(Some relatives of minnowtaurs

who navigate the labyrinthine

waters of the FCC…?

the well-known Newton Minowtaurs.)

Who sucks on candy-coated bulls
must needs spit out the bullish horns
nor let the tail hairs 'tween her teeth
get stuck: beware the Mentotaur!

Its horns are heavy hydrogen,
while oxygen pervades it hooves. 
Its tail...? A carbon-nitrogen
amalgam: meet aminotaur!

Half-bull, half man, half autocrat,
impaling subjects on his horns
and flailin' 'em with tails...and worse:      
the mean Idi Aminotaur.

There was a man-of-bull, one Moon,
who claim'd he was the son of God. 
He bullocks wed to wide-eyed cows
and call'd his pairin's Moonietaurs.

Part bull, part Zola, part Juarez, 
part M. Pasteur, part "Scarface," part 
Wang Lung, this -taur took part in many
parts: the famed Paul Munitaur.

Imagine a part-man-part-bull-part-
passerine in Asia loose!
What mimic'd sounds, what mirror'd songs
re"-taur"ted from this mynataur...?  

No manbulls fought at Hampton Roads.
None clad in hides; none sportin' horns.
The ships which fought there...? Ironclad.
(The Union's ship's the Monitor.)

Triform'd beasts -- part bull, part man, part
golden-pelted mustang. Centaurs...? 
Tritaurs...? Broncotaurs...? Guytaurs...? Nope!
Hi-yo! Palominotaurs!

What you call partly manbull, part Vi-
etnamesian Commie stooge (one
also known as Uncle Ho)
I call the Ho Chi Minhotaur.

From Hellas far España sits,
where bides a beast who battles bulls.
He boasts no tails but those he's shaved
from victims' bums: the matador.

So: won't you be my protege...?
Become a -taurist -- that 'n' more...?
Yes, you shall be my protege.
And I...? I'll be your -taur mentor.

Spuncibl'd Rooner Meets Gad Mardiner

"Doors in Mirrors"
Jude Higgins
acrylic on canvas digitally modified
18" by 24"

     Set aside your Mr. Spock ears and 

don your dog ears. That is, ignoring 
any meanings, listen only to the sound. 
Then, on your second reading...
         
He sought to thaw 
the Krozen phone 
he’d lick'd to brick 
at punch. 

“Hold course, cold horse! 

You’re bag 'n' roan. 
I beer I’m fared...
a scunch.” 

(The rag he know’d -- 

call’d Mal: La Ode 
drop'd dead,
or hose my sunch.)

Granulomas of the Gods A Through M

"One Trues Three Trues Two 'n' Four"
Ulysses Poe
chemical marker on
paper sculpture photographed 
and digitally modified

A’s for Ariadne 
and her adolescent acne.

One array resembles Agassi. 
(Does one ape Clement Attlee...?)

B's a broken Bacchus 
bearing blackheads on his back ‘cuz

of hormonal lack of balance. 
(One blotch calls to mind Jim Backus.)

C’s for the Charybdis. 
With its crater’d cicatrix --

plus crustaceous cysts and cankers – 
‘twill succeed in politics.

D's declaiming Demeter, 
like A does armadillos.

(Her armadillesque dermatitis 
mimics Don Delillo’s.)

Eros (with an E) 
enjoys an eczema-sheath’d pelvis.

The eruptions of this eyesore…? 
Eyed as emulating Elvis.

Flails F-initial’d Flora, 
“With our flamens here beside us,

we’ll say ‘F**k you’ to our flaws 
and cure this foul folliculitis.”

Greeks have gorgeous goddesses. 
Among those gals is Gaia.

She’s got gout and gonorrhea 
(mispronounc'd as ‘gonorraia’).

H is not for Hecate. 
Here, H initials Hera.

Hera’s hives (I’ll overlook her hickies) 
mirror Yogi Berra.

Iris has her imperfections. 
One is ichthyosis.

Sev’ral sores she sports resemble Cher's -- 
or so’s my diagnosis.

Jupiter’s got jock itch. 
This Olympians acknowledge.

His contagion fills the chem lab vault 
at Carcinoma College.

Kratos and his fellows 
bear a common keratosis.

His resembles Pink. 
(He’s treating it with painful self-hypnosis.)

Lethe’s “Lady Lumps.” 
She harbors loads of lacerations,

look-a-likes for Liberace. 
(Please don’t go and tell the Thracians.)

The moles may mask 
Mnemosyne’s malaria awhile,

but eventually it's forced to fade: 
her Mona Lisa smile.

(The rest of the alphabet to come: a work in progress) 

Sha-Na-Nahnsense or the World According to the Silhouettes: an Abecedarial Q&A

"Nirvana-na or
Connect the Dot Head"
(see verses for N below)
Ulysses Poe
chemical marker and
watercolor on copy paper
8 1/2" by 11"

     The Silhouettes were a doo wop/R&B group 
whose "Get a Job" lyrics feature the phrase
"sha-na-na" and variants and was a #1 hit on
multiple Billboard charts in 1958. Yip yip yip
yip yip...mum mum mum mum mum... 

Anna-na Karenina-na…?
Da! This novel’s Tolstoy’s.
Banana-nas…? Chiquita sends us
handfuls…boatloads…convoys!

“Uncle Tom’s Cabana-na”…?
From ‘toon director Avery.
Diana-na…? A princess dies.
(The incident’s unsavory.)

Bay-bed Epifauna-na…?
They line the Chesapeake.
The Erin Isle’s Fermanagh-nagh…?
Their soup’s potato/leek.

Equestrian Gymkhana-na…?
A horse-‘n’-rider playdate.
Gabriel’s Hosanna-na…?
Judaic. Tough to translate.

Tennessee’s The Night of the Iguana-na…?
More Streetcar.
Jonah-nah…? Got swallowed
by a fish. We read his memoir.

Hurricane Katrina-na…?
A cryin’ shame! A pity!
Slovenia’s Ljubljana-na…?
It’s Cleveland’s sister city.

Peggy Lee’s Mañana-na…?
It’s “soon enough for” her.
Nirvana-na…? Lord Buddha asks,
“Which bliss do you prefer…?

“Oh, Donna-na” moved up 
the Hot 100 when he* died.
The Amazon’s Piranha-nha…?
Go swimmin'…? You decide!

     * Its composer and earliest 
performer, Richie Valens

Manuel Jose Quintana-na…?
He (MJ...?*) penn’d Pelayo.
Bactrian Rukhsana-na…?
We must reread her bio.

     * Not to be confused with 
number 23, Michael Jordan. Among 
the alternate entries for Q is "Qasr 
al-Kharana-na...? It isn't in Ohio."

The riverboat Sultana-na…?
Its first three boilers blew.
Mexico’s Tijuana-na:
We shan't go there. Shall you…?

We studied at Champagne/Urbana-na --
went all four years.
Peruvian Vicugna-na Vicuña-ña…?
Dear deers!

Country girl Wynonna-na…?
Made music as a Judd.
Warrior princess Xena-na…?
She guzzles dragon’s blood.

Yerba Buena-na…?
It’s class’d as C. douglasii.
New York hamlet Zena-na…?
Its yards...? Green-grassy. 
                                             ‘Bye.

Bananagraffe on I N K S

     "Don't make me wear your shoes."
                                               -- George Carlin
Know I no one less narrow than I

who'd ply Parker,* papyrus 'n' ink

and, eluding all risk to be label'd a nisk,**

tilt towards tolerance, never to sink.

     I admit I’m no 10. No one is.

Who amongst us sits shiva sans sin…?

Not no beatniks, nor peaceniks, nor no-kinda-niks –

despite gender, creed, chroma of skin.

     Do you “yessir!” with ‘da,’ ‘ya’ or ‘si’…?

Curls your pupek far out or way in…?

Are you Ms., Mrs., Miss...? (I discount dolls dubb'd ‘Knis.’***)

Be to Mayflower Pilgrims you kin…?

     Is your uncle a knight who says “Ni!”…?

Be you one of them blue-bloody “in”s…?

Are you highbrow or hick…? If you’re Dutch do you snik…?****

Still...we’re fam’ly, no matter your kins.

     * Manufacturer of luxury fountain pens
     ** Someone or something godly
     *** Discounted because meaningless
     **** To sob in Sneek 

*  *   *   *   *

How to Compose a Bananagraffe: a Tutorial 

For those unfamiliar with the novel nonsense verse form 

Bananagraffe, here are instructions on how to fashion one 
version of that form for yourself. 

Begin by selecting a word, preferably a short one, one 

from which a range of other possibly smaller words can be
extracted -- and most importantly, one with anagrams. 

The key feature of the Bananagraffe is that from the letters
of the poem’s key word – in this case, ‘INKS’ – can be
extracted all words which will end the lines of the poem. 

E.g., select ‘INKS.’ 
Prepare an array of all possible arrangements of its letters. 

E.g.: 

INKS  INSK  ISNK  ISKN  IKSN  IKNS

NKIS  NKSI  NIKS  NISK  NSKI  NSIK

KSNI  KSIN  KNIS  KNSI  KINS  KISN

SINK  SIKN  SKIN  SKNI  SNIK  SNKI 

Convert to boldface those letter sets which spell readily 

recognized words, i.e., which are anagrams of ‘INKS.’ 
(With this and other word selections you make further 
on in the process, always select more rather than fewer. 
You may well end up not using every word you select.) 

E.g.:

INKS  INSK  ISNK  ISKN  IKSN  IKNS

NKIS  NKSI  NIKS  NISK  NSKI  NSIK

KSNI  KSIN  KNIS  KNSI  KINS  KISN

SINK  SIKN  SKIN  SKNI  SNIK  SNKI

Determine which derived commonly recognized words 
have rhymes which can themselves be derived from the 
key word. (How you match them is up to you.)

E.g.: 

SINK / INK    SKIN / SIN    KIN / IN    KINS / INS

Convert to italics those letter combinations which form 

unusual or pseudo words -- or even acronyms, keeping 
in mind how those are generally pronounced. (Those 
selected may be judgement calls and you may end up 
highlighting more than you need for your verses.) 

E.g.: 

INKS  INSK  ISNK   ISKN  IKSN   IKNS

NKIS   NKSI  NIKS   NISK  NSKI   NSIK

KSNI   KSIN  KNIS   KNSI  KINS  KISN

SINK  SIKN  SKIN  SKNI  SNIK   SNKI 

Select a range of additional words that can be derived 

from the key word. 

E.g.: 

I    IS    SI    “NI!”

(‘SI’ is Spanish ‘yes.’ “NI!” – amplified with quotes and 

interrobang – is an utterance of popular Monty Python 
knights.) 

Words from all those you’ve selected will become words 

positioned at the ends of the lines in your poem. From 
those you’ve selected, now select several to form the 
end-word pattern your poem will feature. The order in 
which they are positioned is up to you. 

E.g.: 

I       ink   nisk    sink

is      sin   niks    skin

si      in     knis    kin

"Ni!" ins    snik    kins 

In addition to lots of assonance because of the solitary 

vowel ‘I,’ the rhyme scheme determined is: 

A  B  C  B

D  E  F  E

G  E  H  E

G  I   J   I

The poem’s lines may thus be arrayed something like this:

_______________ I

_________________ ink

_______________ nisk

____________________ sink.

     _____________ is

____________________ sin

________________ niks

______________ skin.

     ________________ si

________________ in

____________________ knis

__________________kin.

     _________________ “Ni!!”

_________________ ins

______________ snik

___________________ kins. 

Now select a metrical pattern. In the example here, election 

to incorporate a phrase containing “knights who say “Ni!” 
suggests several possible patterns while eliminating several 
others. 

E.g.: 

, , _ , , _ , , _ (, , _) 

The first, third and fourth lines are alike; the third line adds 

the foot shown here in parentheses. 

It simply remains -- imaginatively with regard to content and 

with an ear to the sounds of vowels and consonants in the 
words selected – to fill out the pattern with clauses and phrases,
always remembering that the result should qualify as nonsense
verse.

Runcibl'd Spooner: 2020 Asspirational

Which Chump-in-Chief, when voted out,

encounters hist’ry’s greatest rout...?

Trump! Donald Trump...? Donald Trump!

Put out to pasture...? Not in doubt.

At last that gonif's out o' clout.

Rump. Ta, null’d Rump...? Ta, null'd Rump!

     Moral:

...and freakin' stay out!

School for Connochaetes

Who'll train to tutor wildebeests…?

(Not crusty nuns. Not lusty priests.)

Hey, St. Jean-Baptiste de la Salle:

please lay on us Le Gnu Normale!

Runcibl'd Spooner for DP

Pain killer: Tylenol.

Cane pillar...? Rye grass -- tall.

     

     Moral:

Overdose…? Comatose.

Cellulose…? Adios!

Runcibl'd Spooner: From Cripples to Kellers to Kings

"...Yo' is my woman..." Porgy intones to 
Gershwin's Bess.
Woe is my yeoman. Medieval farming 
sure's a mess.

     Moral:
Life's quite hard on Catfish Row.
Fiefs...? E'en harder rows to hoe. 

*   *   *   *   * 

Blind by May. This year's be unlike 
others' Junes.
Mined by Bley.* Ms. Carla's "borrowed" 
all my tunes.

     * Carla Bley is an US jazz composer

     Moral:
Bedimm'd be days of him who dares
to misappropriate my airs.''

*   *   *   *   *

"Nine o'clock an' all is well."
The town crier.
Ropes le roi...then sits a spell.
The crown tier.

     Moral:
'Twill take a sisal to truss King Faisal.*

     * Who's donn'd a keski featuring 
a twill woven of sisal, perhaps...?

Pinot from Pomeroy's

Leo McKern portrays Rumpole the brief.

Of thespians, Leo’s Commander-in-Chief.

His treatments show Horace no plush toy from Steiff.

Yet, sadly, he lacks his C. K. Scott Moncrieff

to decipher his tales for the Mont Blanc massif,

perhaps with a "lost on the ice" leitmotif.

All erstwhile attempts have, en fin, come to grief,

as unfulfill'd readers exclaim, “Where’s the beef…?”

Nevertheless, it’s my fervent belief --

and, I'm quick to admit, this all comes as relief –

that soon shall arrive gli autor’ with a sheaf

of splendid translations which turn a new leaf

in the book of the spread of the Rumpole debrief.

(A further admission: I wholly would lief

if these versions be render'd by Ciaran O’Keeffe.  

Consider my verses your aperitif.)