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Sunday, August 20, 2023

Lear Enlarged; Being a Baker's Dozen Stanzas of Abecedarial Amplification

Once the Owl and the Pussycat head to sea 
in Lear's beautiful pea-green boat, 
then the Quail and the Ridley's Bat, similarly,
vote to float, though preferring a moat. 

When the Slug and the Tamarin opted, in lieu
of Lear's boat, for a British Rail train,
the Umbrellabird follow'd. Those three tourists swallow'd
their Dramamine. Terminus...? Spain!

The Vole and the Wallaby, as was their wont,
pack'd their gear in a Kevlar canoe.
But, instead of Owl's honey ("That gunk's wa-a-ay too runny"),
each one pack'd a gun...as have you.

The Xeme and the Yorkiepoo rode, in due course,
in a tub down a subsurface drain.
Then the hybridized Zorse, who's one pious ol' horse,
built an bark and begg'd Yahweh for rain.

The Auk and the Butterfly's catamaran,
though requiring a seven-man crew,
urged an alternate plan. "Seven can't, but two can,"
cried the Auk. Then he squawk'd, "Timbuktu!"

The Coot and the Dung Beetle fancied a yacht
which was once own'd by Ari Onassis.
But they couldn't afford it so never did board it.
How greener the neighboring grass is!

The Eel and the Firefly figured a raft
surely might, if steer'd right, prove superb.
Did not, way-understaff'd, Huck exploit such a craft --
if 'exploit' be the op'rative word...?

The Gnu and the Hammerhead gondolas craved
(they had each sev'ral pen pals in Venice).
Said the Gnu: "We'll be saved if that ark's well-behaved.
If it's not, what a maritime menace!"

The Iv'ry-bill'd Woodpecker opted to sail
'round the world with sails furl'd on his schooner.
"I'll go solo," he'd wail. "If my college tries fail,
ye shall see the worst, later or sooner."

Said the Jellyfish (quote): "I don't need no damn boat
to propel me through swells in the ocean.
With each pulse of my bell, I'm propel'd through each swell.
'Tain't no ship shows such hip locomotion."

The Krait and the Ladybug ferried by steamboat
along the Zambezi in style.
Said the Krait to his dreamboat, "This Edward-Lear-theme'd boat
has carried us many a mile...

"If the Mole and the Nightingale they, too, blue waters sail,
maybe all pairs will have guess'd
what the Owl, in the end, with his Pussycat friend
realized: Edward Lear be the best!"

For the Owl and the Pussycat went to sea
in a beautiful pea-green bateau,
while each subsequent pair, as they journey'd La Mer,
came to know: "There be no place like L'eau."

Friday, August 18, 2023

Homophun: The Proses & Their Poems

Everyone's familiar with the line "Mister Ree's 
mysteries." Below are several homophonic lines 
of verse, and the proses that prompt them, 
which aren't nearly so well known.

    i. 
The bishop's ecclesiastical jurisdiction presently 
occupying some several hundred square miles 
adjacent to the Atlantic coastline is purchased 
by ray-finned fish in partnership with a large 
savannah antelope.  

An eel and 
an eland 
buy the see 
by the sea.

     ii.
Additionally this reporter has recently observed, 
displayed upon the animating spirit of this lady, 
the theatrical spectacle of an apiary projected 
across the bottom inside of a shoe.   

An' in her soul, 
I've seen 
an inner sole 
hive scene.

     iii.
I question my friend Dwight, a big fan of the 
novels of L. Frank Baum, on whether or not the 
pugilistic contest we discussed earlier has yet
been scheduled. 
  
I quiz 
Ike "Wiz" 
about 
a bout.

     (more to come; a work in progress)

Wednesday, August 16, 2023

Scarry Au Courant; or, DoowaldABC: an Abecedarial Double-Dutch Jumping Rhyme

 Doowaldeigh, doowaldeigh! What do some folks 
do all day...? 
 What's the actress do all day...? Feign she's straight, though 
plainly gay...?
 
 What's the banker do all day...? Mortgage homes though 
folk can't pay...?
 What's the colonel do all day...? Abuse his female 
attache...?
 
 What's the druggist do all day...? Endorse a bogus 
nasal spray...?
 What's the extra do all day...? Become her idol's 
protege...?

 What's the frat boy do all day...? Relax the ancient 
Roman way...? 
 What's the gringo do all day...? Routinely mispro-
nounce "Ole!"...?

 What's the horse thief do all day...? Traffic fossil 
equidae...?
 What's the intern do all day...? Scavenge off a 
patient's tray...?

 What's the juror do all day...? Payoffs from a 
witness weigh...?
 What's the Klansman do all day...? Pray black lives soon 
fade away...?

 What's the landlord do all day...? List which items 
don't convey...?
 What's the mayor do all day...? Do it Giuli-
ani's way...? 
 
 What's the Negro do all day...? Re-educate the 
KKK...?
 What's the orphan do all day...? Investigate her 
DNA...?
 
 What's the pontiff do all day...? Elect to look the 
other way...?
 What's the quisling do all day...? Fear the ball may 
ricochet...?

 What's the racist do all day...? Ape Emcee in 
"Cabaret"...?
 What's the strawman do all day...? Elaborate the 
shadow play...?

 What's the toady do all day...? Praise her boss's 
macrame...?
 What's the umpire do all day...? Misconstrue the 
double play...?

 What's the vegan do all day...? Eat three green things, 
come what may...? 
 What's the wastrel do all day...? Dream, "This, too, shall 
pass away"...?
 
 What's the X-Man do all day...? Draw comfort from his 
soubriquet...?
 What's the yahoo do all day...? Sweep the sty...? Re-
place the hay...?
 
 What's the zealot do all day...? Execute the 
VP, eh...?
 Doowaldeigh, doowaldeigh! That's what some folks 
do all day.

De Profundus; or, So Long, Morwenna! See Ya in Gehenna!

An exile held on Devil’s Isle, 
I’ll trek tonight The Final Mile. 
But first they’ll serve me one last meal -- 
for one who fasts, a major deal. 
For starters, there's a pewter pail 
they'll fill to full with golden ale. 
Then, garnish'd with fresh lemon peel, 
some jellied-eel-topp'd eland heel. 
Before I tread the dead man's aisle, 
before's engaged the voltage dial, 
I'm guarantee'd my choice of veal 
or roasted rack of Zeeland seal. 
As sounds the dinner bell’s last knell, 
“I’ve room for Jello,” I shall yell. 
I'll then make known my final will: 
“I've had, in sev'ral ways, my fill.”  

Monday, August 14, 2023

The Pig and the Pangolin (not to be confused with "The Eel and the Eland")

      If Edward Lear didn't exist, 
      we'd have to invent him.














          I 
The Pig and the Pangolin took to the road
     Of their mutual karma in quest,
Making headway bizarrely, they sped on a Harley,
     A Hydra Glide. Ride...?  Of the best.
This pair rarely flipp'd as their bike was equipp'd
     With a sidecar of wondrous design
Which allow'd 'em to chat back 'n' forth, tit for tat,
     As they straddl'd each highway's white line,
          White line,
          White line,
     While astride ev'ry highway's white line.

          II 
Queried Pango of Pig, "What's this thingamajig...?"
     As she handled his standard transmission.
"It permits," claim'd the swine as he stiffen'd his spine,
     "Me to ride in half lotus position.
Which reminds," he went on, "me: as thither 'n' yon
     We advance, what's the chance of our bedding...?"
To this Pango replied, "You can bet your pink hide
     There's no pray'r...'til we've shared a white wedding,
          White wedding,
          White wedding;
     Not a pray'r lest there's shared a white wedding."

          III
"Here's the thing: 'twould be nice if, with ring, shoes and rice,
     Our (say "when!") mise en scène would conclude,"
Purr'd the porker. "I mean, what a corker!...last scene
     Starring two (me 'n' you) in the nude."
"Such will never take place lest we two about face.
     We alternative plans need devise.
Trust me! Mother knows best," said the Pangolin. "Dress'd,
     We might sort, then abort, our white lies,
          White lies, 
          White lies,
No cavorting till's sorted those lies."

Sunday, August 13, 2023

Mr. KnowNowt; or, A Drumpf Trial Prospective Juror Responds to Voir Dire

Who says the twice-impeached former POTUS
can't get a fair trial anywhere in the USA...?

Nowt know I of 
Kim Jong Un who
hectors North Korea.
Nowt know I of
Woody who ex-
asperated Mia. 
Nowt know I of
Jason -- or his
paramour Medea. 
And who the hell
is
Donald Drumpf...? I've
really no idea. 

Nowt know I of
Putin who's an-
nexing The Crimea, 
nor nothing of Gon-
dawanaland which
once was call'd Pangaea, 
nor cannabis – al-
though it's thought by
some a panacea. 
And who the hell is
Donald Drumpf...? I’ve
surely no idea. 

Nowt know I of
syphilis, much
less of gonorrhea. 
Nowt know I of
conchas, though I
love a good tortilla. 
Nowt know I of
Poe – except his
onomatopoeia. 
And who the hell is
Donald Drumpf...? I’ve
truly no idea. 
 
Nowt know I of
horseflesh, though I’ve
won at Hialeah. 
Nowt know I of
Viet Nam, much
less of Kampuchea. 
This fellow Drumpf: is
his a case of
ludicrous latria...? 
Whoe’er he is, it's
not my biz. I’ve
no i-(frickin')-dea!

Litany Chanted Over Schrödinger's Box

Is he dead yet...? 'Yes' or 'No'...?  All'd 'God Bless!' if 'Yes,' you know.  Is he dead yet...? Don...