Nice one, Jayne! I've always regarded writing poetry as ranting in style.

Duncan

Ay, this one's pretty weird! I wrote it at 3 AM.

Some people hear me snorting like a pig,
others see me flying like a bat.
Some sense me in the shadows like a cat,
or think I wear lace collars and a wig.
Some boast they've seen me dance a madcap jig,
or wearing a dark cloak and pointy hat,
or scuttling in the darkness like a rat,
but for those losers I don't care a fig!

It's the unbelievers, I won't lie,
I want. With them I paint the whole town red,
I spin them round. They hear my fiddle sob.
They tremble every time I cast the die.
And when I come, a shadow, to their bed,
their bodies sleep. Their souls are mine to rob.

Ooo, that's creepy, Marion, and brilliant! I love it.

I think your other one is excellent too. 3am is obviously a very productive time of day for you :)

Jayne

Fascinating to see what people have made of these particularly arbitrary monosyllabic rhymes assembled by some malicious lexicographer and not taken from a genuine sonnet, which I think would make life easier.

Roger, I thought 'The Trip' was the best of yours, the psychedelic trimmings somehow sorting well with the barmy rhymes. But, unfair to bats! (OK, the one in 'The Trip' has low self-esteem problems.) They're more allied to shrews.

Marion's pieces impose remarkable coherence on the awkward squad of words and the second seems to have taken off with a roar.

Good luck to all.

He'd called his hostess honourable pig,
then said she was as charming as a bat,
and that he’d dined on fricassee of cat
before he’d come, but that he'd have some wig
before he gave his talk (or “did his jig”),
in which he praised the weirdness of the hat
between his Majesty and Premier Rat.
Translation-challenged clown, not worth a fig,
or so she'd thought. She’d learn that was a lie
when coming on her safe, her face turned red.
She found it empty. As she gave a sob,
the woman swore her visitor would die.
She burst in, found his name-card on his bed.
It told his purpose eloquently: “Rob”.

Frank

Written in New York and doubtless all the more cosmopolitan for it.

My Love

My love is noble as a Shropshire pig,
Fit as a flounder, cunning as a bat.
My love goes smoothly as an alley cat,
Is contumacious as a judge's wig.
My love treads nimbly as an Irish jig,
Bright and coruscant as a bowler hat,
Mince as a mouse, yet rampant as a rat
Proud as a peanut, sexy as a fig.

Should you presume to doubt, I say you lie.
I fling it in your teeth. My blood runs red.
My temper is on fire. How you shall sob,
Yeah, shake and shit with fear until you die.
A stinking sewer then shall be your bed,
Where jackals howl and festering felons rob.

HELP. I can't stop!

With pig/jig, this one seemed obvious.

Mother Goose Pastiche

To market, to market, to buy a fat pig.
Three tailless mice, as blind as a bat.
Bad Johnny, to try to drown the poor cat!
Old King Cole in an elegant wig.
Home again, home again, jiggy jig.
Here comes the fine lady – take off your hat!
"I frightened a little mouse (or was it a rat)?"
Jack Horner pulled out a plum, not a fig.
Little Boy Blue is asleep – let him lie.
Violets are blue, roses are red.
Hear the cat make his old fiddle sob!
Humpty Dumpty – poor egg had to die!
The dish and the spoon in their nuptial bed.*
Tom, Tom seeks a pig-pen to rob.

*There is some controversy as to whether "the dish ran away with the spoon" means "the dish stole the spoon" or "the dish eloped with the spoon." I prefer the latter more romantic interpretation.

I assume this won't travel. But some of my compatriots (you know who you are) might enjoy it.

Weaned on Television

Lassie, Mr. Ed, Arnold the pig,
Cosmo Kramer, crazy as a bat.
Samantha, who could turn into a cat.
Max Smart's shoe phone, Alan Brady's wig.
Sexy Charlie's angels – jiggy jig.
Marcia's swollen nose, Ed Norton's hat.
Columbo who knew how to smell a rat.
Perry Mason who could always fig-
ure out who told the truth, and who would lie.
Ranting Archie Bunker seeing red.
Lucy's wacky schemes, her mournful sob.
Who shot JR? (although he didn't die).
Sam Malone, who took the girls to bed.
Laura Petrie whimpering, "Oh, Rob!"

Last one – I promise!

A Brief History of Opera

Don Giovanni, that unrepentant pig,
seducing all the ladies without bat-
ting an eyelash. Delilah, sneaky cat,
making Sampson wish he had a wig.
Carmen telling Don José the jig
was up. Papageno's feathered hat
and magic flute. Scarpio the rat.
Tosca, who lived for art. Resourceful Fig-
aro to the rescue. Iago's lie.
Lucia with her dagger dripping red.
Canio the clown's prodigious sob.
The Flying Dutchman who could never die.
Violetta, dying in her bed.
The Devil, searching for a soul to rob.

Brilliant! I particularly like
...Fig-
aro

(and has a more perfect opera ever been written?)