Gladys Knight’s
Glad it’s night.
Peter Townsend
Lives on town’s end.
Pete Entwhistle:
Repeat and whistle!
Lyle Lovett?
Well, I’ll love it.
Beyonce’s
Beyond say.
Did Ernest Tubb
Earn his tub?
Gladys Knight’s
Glad it’s night.
Peter Townsend
Lives on town’s end.
Pete Entwhistle:
Repeat and whistle!
Lyle Lovett?
Well, I’ll love it.
Beyonce’s
Beyond say.
Did Ernest Tubb
Earn his tub?
I padded to the priory
To ascertain priorities:
To pry or pet our pieties?
“Priorities are pretty petty.
Prioritize pituitaries!”
(Quoth the prior with a goiter!)
Ken.
Ken Surr, sir!
Ken Surr, sir, works tankers.
Tankers’ cankers–barnacles.
Tanker cankers caught him cancer.
Ken Surr’s cancer, sir.
Work the tanker?
No sir.
Ken Surr can’t, sir: cancer.
A parrot.
Pirate’s parrot.
A pair of parrots!
A pair of pirates!
Pirates’ parrots.
A pair of pirate parrot pets.
No gangplank here: a parapet!
A pair of pirate parrot pets prate the parapet.
Doctor Stuhl.
“Shtool.”
Doctor Stuhl on his doctor’s stool!
“We need stools.”
Stool tools…
Vials. Bottles.
“Fill full. Fill well.
“Use your stool tools!”
Ron.
Sad Ron.
Sorrowin’ Ron.
Saruman saw Ron, sorrowing.
Ron saw Saruman see his sorrow.
Says Saruman: “See Sauron, man.
“Saruman is not the man for sorrow, Ron.”
Ron ran.
Ron ran to Sauron.
Sauron’s eye saw Ron run.
Sauron’s eye stunned running Ron.
No more sorrow, Ron!
He teed off at Caradhras Pass—
Gandalf, and pal Radagast.
It wedged in a tree,
So an ent sent it free.
“Gol’ dang it,” said Gandalf, “Dang golf!”
I find that I am growing facile
Writing this word-play epistle.
I’ll bundle it and pack the issue
In Epistle Facile Missile!
I brandish now some mistletoe.
Shall, on this missile, mistletoe go?
Where to go to? Mistletoe to?
Go to Tonga? Togo, too?
Maybe the two!
Epistle Facile Missile to go
With mistletoe to go to Tonga,
And to go to Togo too!
Solzhenitsyn’s Innuit souls.
Shakespeare’s peers shake!
“Tell us, judge, of digitalis. Or didja’ tell us?”
He’s pro-opera, see.
Proselytize! Tithe tennis pro’s!
Juicy sea juice.
‘D’you see sea juice?
Pulp title:
“Temptation at Station Temp”
A filmy mouthful.
A staff of fats.
You crane, Ukraine!
Mitchum’s a “mum itch.”
German manger.
Dermer’s murder.
Farewell, welfare!
Digital? Toldja,’ Jed.
Darrel licked a derelict.
‘Nary an ornithologist just slothed in, ornery.
Eric hits heretics!
All Poetry © Dennis N. O'Brien, 2010 - 2019
Anthropology, linguistics, archaeology, and writing systems
Carmina et Verba pro Discipulis Meis
Reading, writing and a-rhythmic tics
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