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Unread 01-01-2018, 11:11 AM
Chris O'Carroll Chris O'Carroll is offline
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Owl and Pussy-cat Honeymoon

“Our courtship was fun, now the wedding is done,
And we’ve issues we need to discuss,”
Said the Pussy. “Coition in any position
Is a knotty dilemma for us.
Never mind procreation, just plain recreation
Involving a cat and a bird
Looks to be heavy weather. Between fur and feather
Congress must, alas, prove absurd.”

“My sweet wife,” the Owl said, “our marital bed
Is a place we have no need to fear.
We were made for romance; we are creatures of fancy.
How pleasant to know Mr. Lear!
How do you suppose that a ring from the nose
Of a piggy fits snug on your paw?
Nonsensical verse can make better from worse.
We are not bound by natural law.

“We can dance hand in hand on the edge of the sand,
Though of hands we are neither possessed.
I strum my guitar, croon how lovely you are,
And the Muses take care of the rest.
Details of anatomy simply don’t matter. We
Transcend such stuff; we belong
To a realm whose carnality scoffs at reality.
Come inhale from this tree; it’s a Bong.”



Emily Dickinson Sorts Her Laundry

The Sock Drawer is a little Ark –
Whose Dwellers two by two
Are first a Mound – of Wantonness
The Laundress must undo.

Entangled, newly clean and dry,
They hide out – from the Hand
That vetoes bachelor Debauch –
And publishes – the Banns.

The Matchmaker’s Intent is firm –
She finds and rolls – each Pair,
Coordinate Habiliments
For ten-toed Twins to – share.

Yet mirthful Providence conspires
On every washing Day –
That when the even Task is done,
Still Oddness – claims one Stray.



A.E. Housman Changes a Light Bulb

The bulb that once lit up this room
Has yielded, burnt out, to the gloom.
I climb the ladder, flex my wrist,
Apply an anti-clockwise twist,

Discard the old, insert the new,
Threading this time a clockwise screw,
Then flip the switch to spark the glow
That will not last for long, I know.

A golden lad now in his prime,
This bulb will know a darker time.
Once more the ladder I will mount
To put paid to his bright account.

The filament that’s hot and bold
Today will soon enough grow cold.
These threescore watts of fragile light
Cannot for long ward off the night.



The Emperor of Birthday Cake

Call the plump, periphrastic one,
The insurance executive,
The poet as the letter P,
Roller of big cigars as the letter C.
Let be be befuddled by fake,
The only emperor is the emperor of birthday cake.

Bid him whip curdled words for philosophy soufflé,
Purvey 10˘ ideas in $12 packages,
Author of “Thirteen Ways
Of Saying Give Me a Break.”
The only emperor is the emperor of birthday cake.



(Brian Allgar also has a parodic take on the Owl/Pussy-cat sexual dilemma.)

Last edited by Chris O'Carroll; 07-27-2018 at 04:14 PM.
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