[Jayne Osborn]

That's a real good 'un, George, and I second Ann's response!
(I've seen the form before but I don't know the name of it, though someone here must, surely?)

[Lance Levens]

I believe it's called it's a calligramme(?)--from Apollonaire, first, then lots of offspring. And --don't forget Herbert's "Easter Wings."

[George Simmers]

A rhopalic verse is one where each line grows by a foot. So maybe this is an upside-down rhopalic.

Thanks for the comments.

[Roger Slater]

John and George, well done!

*

A Poem Refusing to Praise Asceticism

I'd love to praise asceticism,
laud and ballyhoo it,
and that is why I feel I must
refuse outright to do it.

You see, I must abjure all things
artistic and poetic
because they make me feel so good,
which stinks since I'm ascetic.

[Jerome Betts]

Oh dear, jostled off the pitch by giants again. Perhaps, considering the venue, a touch of political nostalgia might provide a sporting chance . . .

Let's call back with celerity
The happy Attlee days!
The glories of austerity
Deserve our highest praise.

Ascetics all, through policy,
No well-oiled Tory voice
Then droned, in Wales or Wallasey,
That toxic mantra, 'Choice'.

So, super-sized society,
Exchange consumption’s sham
For life with less variety
But lots of thrift and Spam!

[John Whitworth]

I'd put an Attlee ten bob note on that, Jerome.

[Gail White]

Here's a bit of recycled cynicism -- unfortunately not nearly as good as John's which had me LOL by the end.

Restrain the first impulse to speak.
This grows more easy in a week
or two. Most verbiage is waste,
ill-timed, inept, and in poor taste.
Restrict your sight. The ugliness
of modern life induces stress.
Control the wanton urge to hear
each sound that batters at the ear.
Fresh news is quickly mummified,
and music's noise since Handel died.
Thus reining every wayward sense,
embrace the dark with confidence.
Withdrawn from earthy taste and touch,
God blesses you. But not with much.

[FOsen]

I couldn’t stick it out atop that pillar,
so first, I wrote The Bread and Water Diet
and used a disapproving blurb, “It’s Killer!”
to ward off disbelievers who might try it.
It went to number one, and next I thought
I’d film my strict self-flagellant routine
and meant to underline that flesh is rot,
through swimsuit models wearing Vaseline.
When that went huge, I came back to my column.
Now People wants to do a photo op;
they claim I seem majestic, wise, and solemn
and want to call it “Living at the Top.”
They'd like to know, "Is He a Failed, Pathetic,
or Just the World's Most Lucrative Ascetic?"

Frank

oh, crap - 'thought' and 'rot' conjoin felicitously in Southern California . . .

And to top it off, I sent it to Lucy . . . batting 1,000 . . . .

[Ann Drysdale]

Oh, Frank - not Lucy? Alas, t'were an infelicitous conjuction, methinks... But there's nowt to say you can't fire it off again at the right target. Go on!

[Roger Slater]

George and John seem to have the market cornered, but I keep working in case their entries get lost in cyberspace due to a worm I am trying to develop for just these purposes.


THE ASCETIC

There are no shoes upon my feet,
no cushions on my stool.
For days on end I do not eat
and when I do, it's gruel.

I don't indulge in vice or sin,
and yet I still atone.
The loin cloth itches that I'm in.
My pillow is a stone.

I do not laugh, I do not speak,
I do not leave my hut.
I urinate but once a week.
My windows are all shut.

I try to live like Paul, the Saint,
whose life was so austere.
I find I have but one complaint:
I sure could use a beer.

*

PS-- Oops, I see too late the limit it 14 lines. I might have to lose S3.