[Jerry Glenn Hartwig]

I don’t recall my days of innuendo;
before anyone ever thought to invent
the computer, PDA or Nintendo -
and I never learned what concupiscence meant.

[Zita Zenda]

I’ve learned what “concupiscence” means (just now),
but what I cannot figure out is how
it can be sated? How is it related
to age or versifiers, as you’ve stated?

I’m left to wonder, too, what age are you?
If you’re not speaking for yourself, how do
you speak with such an air of confidence?
Do you remember being less intense?


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[Jerry Glenn Hartwig]

Actually, as a youth
I was extremely intense,
but I finally managed some sense
and loosened up, forsooth. *

The closer I get to death,
that much more ardent I
intend to be, and will try
to 'die' with my last breath.

So I never intend to be placid -
concupiscence is now the word; **
and despite what you may have heard
my innuendo's not flacid.

*Cut me some slack - I'm doing this on the fly (no pun intended)
** Can we read the first foot as anapestic, please *grin*



[This message has been edited by Jerry Glenn Hartwig (edited April 01, 2003).]

[Zita Zenda]

Actually, Jerry, you’ve got all the slack,
those questions I posed were for arioch.


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[Renate]

Innuendo is better when it comes in threes
and I die and I die and I die,
but concupiscence has delighful suspense
and I fry and I fry and I fry.


I wanted to ask: has rhymed repartee
ever made sense or is it just me?

[Jerry Glenn Hartwig]

Has rhymed repartee ever made sense
or is it merely me?
It's a chance to get rid of the junk in our heads
and flirt - harmlessly.

*wink*

[Gus]

Does it all have to make sense,
Or can we just talk bull-
If it's rubbish that you want,
We Irish plainly rule,

Me and Olly from the north,
Can versify away,
He has more skill than I've got,
As plain as night and day.

Pass it onto tne next poet,
Sorry I'm not flirty,
But writing on the school P.C.,
I just can't be dirty!

Cheers, Gus

[Jerry Glenn Hartwig]

I really do not get you, Gus;
now I'll call no man a fool,
but I'll ask you plain, with little fuss,
just what do the Irish rule?

*grin*

[This message has been edited by Jerry Glenn Hartwig (edited April 02, 2003).]

[Zita Zenda]

Renata, it’s better to fry
after you die, I suppose.
The sense of your short-rhymed reply:
one innuendo –blows?

Frankly, Jerry, I have to disagree,
repartee prompts my greatest poetry.
That’s no come on, so don’t you wink at me!



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[Gus]

Now Jerry, I hear what you say,
What do the Irish rule?
It's plain this little Irish lad,
Must take you back to school.

First we came and settled where,
The gold was said to be,
But stayed because the hops
And barley were wonderful quality.

And all the presidents democrat,
Still make their Irish claims,
From J.F.K. to Cigar Bill,
They really should be Liams.

And Paddy's day in N.Y.C.,
Parades and banners flyin'
Drinking beer and throwing up,
Because it's got green dye in!

So Irish rule in many ways,
Most of all when it comes to brew,
Cos American beer is all the same,
Like making love in a canoe!

Gus