[Brian Allgar]

Oh, well, since Bazza seems to be lying low, noblesse oblige. Every line more or less has a rhyme, although not in a regular order. (I borrowed 'ragout' from Chris.) And I must confess that there's not much of a connection between the acrostic and the subject-matter.

Freddy Fitzherbert Fitzackerly Fortescu,
Utterly clueless, though ‘uper-clarse’ (sic),
Crassly unlettered, and thick as a brick,
Knew, so he thought, how to make a ragout.

Taking some beef that was stringy and tough,
Heaving a packet of old vermicelli
Into the mixture, some rank haricots,
Slivers of mutton that, frankly, were off,

Fillets of cod that were barely so-so,
Oysters, an eight-month-old gift from his father,
Reeking and rancid (but so was his Pa).

All this he believed he had seen on the tel-
Ly, confused with a recipe used by his Ma.
After the meal, his companions felt rather
Regurgitative, and were fatally sick,
Killed off by the scoff from the trough of this toff.

[Rob Stuart]

Smartarse.

[Brian Allgar]

'Ere, Rob, watch yer mouth, or I'll be sending you a plateful.

[Douglas G. Brown]

Taking a lugubrious and cliché-ridden swing around the chain reaction circle...

Suspecting you had been untrue, I viewed your Facebook chatter;
Rewarding friends with “dividends”? Our arguments grew louder.
Romance you dished to all who wished; it didn’t really matter.
Respect for me would never be; and then you took a powder.

Recalcitrant is my descent from bliss to abject sorrow;
With you moved out, I have no doubt that life will be a bummer.
Remembrance of these past events makes me abhor tomorrow;
Will skies persist to drizzle mist? Will blizzards spoil my summer?

Regretting you … till grass grows blue, till margarine is butter,
Receding seas leave Celebes connected to Australia,
Angolan banks make Marks and Francs the currency they utter,
Rouen decrees a ban on cheese, and Google is a failure.

Escaped from here, I miss you dear, and weep a Mississippi;
Imagining what path will bring me from depressive lapses -
Submerge myself in pomp and pelf, or be a grungy hippie?
Ethanol is best of all to deaden my synapses.

[Graham King]

Wow, Douglas!

Tyrannosaurus rex strode -
Elongated femur, tibia and tarsi
In each leg enabling
Gigantic heavy paces.
Speedwise, what may we say?
Yes, such strides covered ground,
Doubtless eating distance up
Practically like prey!
Yet- what rate of progress?
Some suppose T. rex to have
Existed just by ambush-
Hiding till prey passed it,
Then a sudden lunge- Snap!
Perhaps pursuit (but- slow, swift? -
Tracking, chasing prey down?)
No-one knows which way, yet.

[Graham King]

I edify myself at length -
Highbrow volumes browse, reclining.
Good grief! Heaven give me strength:
How attention wanes, declining

Gradually into sleep…
Pages crumple; book falls, thumping-
Goading me awake at once,
Ears and eyes alert, heart pumping!

Ghost of willpower drives me on,
Now resuming wordy wending;
Groaning, though! This uphill task
Kindles little joy. I’m tending,

Grade-wise, downward; exams ask
Kabbalistic knowledge from me.
Eating stale starch by the ton
Now haunts my dreams; I bloat with ennui.

[Graham King]

Mister Whitworth
Has a poem
(Many notice)
Ever-ready;

Years’ worth of 'em!
Miles of writing,
Generated
Donkeys’ lives back,

Kept against the
Exigency,
Years or decades
(Some guess), later-

Ripe and apt to
Offer then as
Submi-ssions.
Serious, some;

Earthy, no few;
Worthy, wistful,
Longing, soulful…
Lastly, oft-time,

Entries comic!
Competitions
Sailed triumphant
Through, to finish,

He has known, and
Dark days (lacking
Gleanings meagre -
Even ‘hon mensh’)

He’s experienced;
Dogged, persists,
Subtly splendid,
Doughty, dauntless;

Spry his humour,
Ribald, poignant…
That is how he
Ever writes ‘em.

[John Whitworth]

Why thank you, Graham. I never knew you cared.

Douglas, I spell it 'till'. What do other Sphereans do? Your poem is a many splendoured thing.

[Brian Allgar]

John, when it's a stand-alone word, I spell it till. But Douglas is using 'til, the abbreviated form of until.

[John Whitworth]

I was thinking of 'Till Death do us part' and 'You never miss the water till the well goes dry'. I can't remember ever writing 'til in any context. Perhaps I should have, but it does look messy.