Another 'Oscar Wilde' Anagram

      Oscar Wilde 
Wilde courted the Muses. ('Tis said
Oscar even took Thalia to bed.)
Euterpe was pleased. Terpsichore...? Teased.
But Erato and 
     Clio saw red.

Anagrams Around "The Railway Children" (Unpub)

     E. Nesbit:
With footballer Billy a surname she shares.
But Bill: he ain't E., though -- agree…?
As those Nesbits do, Cummingses name-share as well.
('Tis bene:
     B.* isn’t ee.)

    * The actor (that's Bob aka Robert) must never 

be confused with the famous lower-case-initialed 

poet lest cultural chaos ensue -- agree...?

Crossbreeds: a Halfabet

The Allimony   The Babbit   The Cassowole   The Dingoebary   The Efterveasant
The Fleabertyjivet   The Gob'legook   The Hedgemone   The Inchubator

The Jack'l-a-box   The Kahuna   The Lampreydusa   The Mackaroon   

The Nar-do-welle   The Orang-jul'yess   The Pandamonium

The Qualifying Rhound   The Ringmarole   The Sardsporilla   The Thigmajig

The Undiewear   The Voleswagon   The Whippoorsnaptor   The Xylophrone

The Yakeedoodle   The Zoobeeyak 

First...Then...: An Alfabot

At first a little 

then alot 

upon his wienie, 

on his Brät.
At first avec- 

then sans-culotte. 

At first she can 

then she cannot 

treat MASD -- 

or dry rot –
in Binghamton 

or Endicott.

What flowers first 

in a flower pot 

may migrate 

to a garden spot

where mornings chilly 

soon grow hot.

Amin an Einstein...? 

No he's not. 

But nor's he 

not an Idi-ot.

At first Bahama 

then Grande Jatte. 

At first taekwond- 

but then karat-. 

At first unsnarl'd 

then in a knot.

At first Methus'lah; 

later Lot.

At first de Sade 

but then Marat. 

(a work in progress)

Fixin's Bar

Richard Armour's Condiments

Shake and shake the catsup bottle. 
None will come and then a lot'll.
Nothing attracts the mustard from wieners
as much as the slacks just back from the cleaners.

Uly's Poe's Tack-On Demented

In Lotus Land dwell androids, bots
whose frames are reclaimed chamber pots.
Allow'd is one to gun the throttle...?
Not if one's an axolotl.

OuLiPo's Ten: An Open Letter To Ou-Know-Who From Ulysses Poe

     Does anyone have an inkling as to what might 

result from distilling the essences of OuLiPo's 

instigators into anagrams of their names placed 

on the rears of doggerel distichs? Nonsense sensai 

Ulysses Poe imagines he does.

To: tou, ununruly OuLiPo!

Hommage à you, from Uly Poe.

     Noël Arnaud 

bawls, “Bloody hell!

We'd all soon drown 

     around an El.”

     Jacques Bens 

(though friends may disagree)
has voted been 

     “Jass Queen (BC).”

     

OuLiPo! OuLiPo!

A, E, I, O, ULiPo!

     

     Claude Berge 

(a man best known as “Bud”)
pens tomes which graph his 

     large bee cud.

     

     Jacques Duchateau: 

dead, nu…?

     J’s cue qua Death...? A “**c***u!”

OuLiPo! OuLiPo!

What...? Why...? When...? Where...? WhoLiPo!

    

     Emmanuel Peillet, 

with zeal,

express’d it: “I meant 

     pull me eel.”

     François Le Lionnais 

agrees: “Blows no stiff breeze to roil

my new abecedarial 

     nonsensical airfoil.”

     

OuLiPo! OuLiPo!

Ten, eight, six, four, twoLiPo!

     Jean Lescure 

each broomer girl

esteems. Just hear him: 

     “See Jane curl!”

     Raymond Queneau: 

ya ring steel pan,
ya sing wid’ ban.’ 

     Queer...? Nya! Oud man.

OuLiPo! OuLiPo! 

(As such, they're much like you, Li Po.)

     Jean Queval, 

who must be seen
to be believ’d: 

     J, Lava Queen.

     Albert-Marie Schmidt 

claims it isn’t his fault:
sans searching, he finds, 

     amid birch trees…malt.

 

You be but what you doLiPo!

Yours very truly, 

                             Uly Poe.

Stuff & Nonsense (Olim Fake News)

     Is it true that
the young North Korean
recently filmed defecting to the South
was named Ho Li Cao…?
 
     Is it true that
“Elvis Lives!” = Permanent Presley…?
 
     Is it true that
a sign recently appeared
above a basket of free bread outside 

a Bombay bakery which read:

“Have a loaf! It’s better than naan”…?
 
     Is it true that 

who takes to her bed
with some ST disease
so’s to not help me bang out
my new vocalise
is my Muse, while I cry,
“I’d so hoped, if ‘twould please,
you’d have sung me new tunes
using only black keys”...?
 
     Is it true that 

translation etcet'ra sets tasks Herculean --
e.g., "raison 'wet're" ain’t "reason for peein'"...?  
 
     Finally: 

Which conjunction does
grammeteorologic favor more…? 
Is it an 'and' or is it an 'and/or'…?
(Or is it only 'or'…?)

'Matters' Matters: A Rhyme

Black lives matter...? 'Deed they do!

Jack knives matter. (Bread knives, too.)

Green chives matter, as do blue.

Clean rives matter: pass right through.

Tight shives matter, should one brew.

Night drives matter, would one woo.

Endives matter. (That you knew.) 

Ten fives matter. (Bad luck due...?)

Charles Ives matters, listen'd to. 

Arles chives matter. (Misted, nu...?)
Ogives matter. (Move your pew!) 

“No Jive!” matters. True Blue (who....?)

Deep dives matter: name your crew.  

(Bleep!) swives matter. Shame on you!
Pull’d skives matter: ones off ewe. 

Full hives matter: honey's dew.

Alewives matter. Odor...? Whew! 

All lives matter! Deja vu.)

     * Verses can be personified by 

replacing 'Lou' with any of a range of 

other one-syllable given names, e.g., 

Drew, Sue, Fu, Pru, Stu and so forth.

Mr. POTUS Departs: A Timely Repost

Trump glowers. And glowers.
For hours and hours. And hours.
Fasces foul Trump scours.
(This lad ain’t Adenauer’s.)
Trump then (and how!) and now errs
in plying POTUS powers.
 
Trump shouts, “Trump never cowers!”
But, fin’lly, Trump’s Tao sours.
The People cry, “Enowers!
That Hun’s no son of ours.”
Trump splits. Trump hits the showers.
The GOP sends flowers.
 
And Trump no longer towers.

May The Monster...? Six Wishes For The Future Made Partially In The Form Of An Eye Rhyme

May the Monster Ball Tour’s Lady Gaga
mime Macbeth, Act II: “Is this a dagga…?”!
May Mick (Rolling Stone) Jagger, a jogga,

water cacti, some barr'l-shaped Bisnaga!
 
May Husseini (the Khan we call Agha)
grow organic’lly (Groan!) rutabaga!

May no frat boys spill Heineken Laga
at no Nu Pi fraternity kegga!
 
May an Abhogi Kanada raga
be sitar'd during rallies named MAGA!
May this hagiographical saga
magnify Aloysius Gonzaga!

Sestina Destiny: Uly's To'n'frolaly On 'What Next...?'

     A wolaly is a Poe-own'd poetic device, one deploying the elements of a word ladder in numerical order as final words in the lines of a stanza in numerical order. A to'n'frolaly is a longer version of the same form, one which deploys those elements first in forward order then in reverse order. In a to'n'frolaly, the last word of the first line is identical to the last word of the final line. It's a "there and back again" sorta deal.

"What's real...? Compared to what...?
(D'you think we need to chat...?
Says I, 'Good luck with that!
Our tête-à-tête's no teat.
Let's sip our spirits neat
while wondering, "What's next...?"')"

I penn'd one six-line text
while furbishing my tent.
When finish'd, 'twill be sent
back home to take its seat
near 'toons where sour souls spat,
nigh toilets where they shat.

Kept real...? Compared to what...?