Regarding the Attraction of Opposites, It's Touch 'n' Go: a Ritmus in Rime

With Eb 'n' Flo, to is fro, 
stop is go 'n' yes is no. 
Sis is bro, feu est l’eau, 
vrai est faux 'n' joy is woe.

With Eb 'n' Flo, pimp is ‘ho,’

suck is blow 'n' high is low.

Wane is grow, fox is crow,

rich is po' 'n' fade is glow.

With Eb 'n' Flo, am is pro, 
Jenny's Joe 'n' quid's pro quo.
Shemp is Moe, paid is owe,

sigma's rho 'n' catch is throw.

With Eb 'n' Flo, fast is slow,

shove is tow 'n' trot is "whoa."

Gross is beau, err is know,

win is show...and, yes: ebb's flow...

...plus (as is shown here)

less is mo.'

Enid 'n' Edna: a Meterhyme

Enid is blue on green; Edna’s deep red. 

Enid’s an ABC; Edna’s a zed. 

Enid’s respectable; Edna’s ill-bred. 

Enid’s believable; Edna’s lost cred. 

Enid’s progressive; to Drumpf Edna’s wed. 

Enid is spirited; Edna’s quite dead. 

Enid we celebrate; Edna we dread. 

Each is our sib. (Best the rest's left unsaid.)  

Soup 'Herb': a Jump-Rope Counting Meterhyme

Herbert

Hoover, Herbert Marshall, Herbert

Asquith, Herbert Lom. Victor

Herbert, Justin Herbert, Mrs.

Walter Herbert ("Mom"). Edna

Ferber(t) would her blurb blurt. Baby

Gerber(t), please stay calm! (Dropp’d her

sherbert on the curb, hurt sev'ral

digits and her palm.)

When "Gimme a Visky!" Were Thought a Bit Risky: a Meterhyme

Before they’d heard how Garbo talks, 
they’d wonder’d, “Maybe Garbo balks 
at having to record 'that voice.' 
Perhaps great Greta Garbo squawks.” 
 
Before they’d heard how Garbo speaks, 
they'd ponder’d, “Maybe Garbo squeaks -- 
a pitch o’er which she bears no choice." 
(They each could teach her voice techniques.) 
 
Before they ’d heard how Garbo laughs 
at Melvin's* Paris bistro gaffes, 
they'd maunder’d, “Might Mel make her smile...?” 
"I'll say,” thought they. “Mel Garbo chaffes.” 
 
In 1990, Garbo dies. 
Begin they then to analyze 
the art at heart of Garbo style: 
"It weren’t 'that voice.' 'Twere them there eyes."

* Garbo's Ninotchka co-star Melvyn Douglas.

More Bulletins from the "Anagrams Never Lie" Dept.

Shangri-La: Hansa Girl

     (Lo-Tsen's from medieval Germany...? 
I'd heard she was Manchu.)

Indicted: Did in (etc.) 

     (No one is above the law.)

I've Got a Right to Sing in Blues

Now I wend

towards the end

of my rope. 
I have run

short of fun,

faith 'n' hope. 
Life is over.

Life's done.
Life’s (tho’

once sorta fun) 

full of woe:

I can no

longer cope. 

Now I'm play'd out.

I’m wash'd up.

I’m spent. 
Now's the winter,

and I'm

discontent. 
I’m all in.

It’s a wrap. 
Time to take

The Big Nap. 
(Leaves one wond’rin'

where all of it

went.)

Now this case,

like this casement,

is closed,

as the body

erodes --

decomposed.

That last scene

was a flop.

Cut! Don't print it --

full stop.

I've been --

hook, line 'n' sinker --

well hosed.

Now I'm finish’d.

I’m used up.

I’m drain’d.

Sky's gone grey;

name one day

it's not rain'd!

Oi! I'm runnin'

on empty.

I'm krenky,

verklempty.

My options...?

All stopp'd...

or constrain'd.

Now the sands

through my hands

are run out,

I can see

that The Reaper's

en route.

As the curtain's

descending,

"So this

is the ending...?"

I brood --

then conclude,

"Without doubt."

Now the foundry

has ground

to a halt.

Nor no longer's

my song

worth its salt.

Need I now

to name names

as to who

bears the blames...?

Hold the phone:

'tis my own

bloody fault.