[Sarah-Jane Crowson]

(aside 2)
*still loving this thread. Better than Netflix.

[Carl Copeland]

Two more rollicking monorhyme sonnets from Michael (the description of the room above the bar is delicious) and an absolutely delightful contribution from Roger, well deserving of its titular status. If this is children’s verse, I’d rank it with the best I’ve ever read.

[Michael Cantor]

This is a bit out of season, but I don't have any Rosh Hashanah monorhymes.

Tum-ta-tum-ta-tum-parum-pum-pum-pum

December’s here and hear the thrum
that crummy kid creates; the dumb
and droning, moaning hum of hum-
bug fills a mall with every strum,
just like a film of sugar scum.
It cloaks and gums the shopping slum,
where Santa’s just a dressed-up bum,
until I think my mind is numb.

But, hey, these complementary rum-
laced egg-nogs go down well; and come
to think on it, why be so glum
when everything here tastes so yum?
More doubles please, Miss Sugar Plum –
parum pum pum pum – one’s for my chum.
Him and his drum.

[Carl Copeland]

Michael I, Monarch of Monorhyme.

[Roger Slater]

Thanks, Carl. That's very nice of you to say.

This next children's poem isn't a monorhyme, but I think it's in the spirit of this thread because it only uses two rhymes, and it uses each of them ten times. (This is also in my upcoming book).

IT'S ALL ME

I've sometimes been someone,
sometimes been no one,

the fast-as-they-come one,
the lazy and slow one,

sometimes the chum one,
sometimes the foe one,

the sit-and-be-mum one,
the stand-up-and-crow one,

the hopelessly dumb one,
the cool in-the-know one,

the moping and glum one,
the cheeks-all-aglow one,

the bang-on-a-drum one,
the volume-down-low one,

the merely humdrum one,
the big-fancy-show one,

the I've-no-green-thumb one,
the I-make-things-grow one,

the place-where-I'm-from one,
the place-where-I-go one.

[Jim Moonan]

.

Originally Posted by Sarah-Jane Crowson

(aside 2)
*still loving this thread. Better than Netflix.

.
Me, too. It's like candy to me. Bread, too. With butter.

.

[Carl Copeland]

Very much in the spirit, Roger. You seem to write up to children, and if I knew any, I’d get them your books. I’d get them for the kid in me if I wasn’t in a country that’s shut off from the rest of the world. Well done!

[RCL]

A Narcissist’s Sonnet

by D. Trump

I want it
I see it
I grope it
I grab it

I pet it
I lay it
I cheat it
I buy it

I charm it
I rape it
I fear it
I wed it

I have it
I hate it

[Roger Slater]

I like your poem, Ralph, but it's not a monorhyme.

[RCL]

Well, then

That Inner Fish Tiktaalik

My inner fish alerts me, when I’m peckish,
that through eons I’d been a dish delish,
to fish! That even now I nosh kin’s flesh—
those primal ancient swimmers formed as fish
long after we evolved to tetrapodish,
then to unscaled two-leggḗds, proud and selfish.
With salty tastes, fish scents of fluids we flush,
we’re often sharkish, slippery, schoolish, foolish.
But maybe land’s fishkind will not soon vanish
due to warrish need to push and vanquish.
I pray that we won’t end up in a clash,
declared in that cliché of big fish/little fish,
but with a happy leaping delusional splash!