Liza McAlister Williams: Snow
Cold and icy, and adhesive,
snow but briefly paints delight.
Un-Van Gogh-sive, un-Matisse-ive,
soon it’s just a sloppy blight.
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Chris O’Carroll: Dublin Bedtime Clerihew
Molly Bloom,
Perturbed about all that men presume,
Nevertheless
Says yes.
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Brian Allgar: An Invitation
We thought our guests would never leave. And then
At last, when one o’clock began to chime,
They headed for the door. “Do come again”,
My wife entreated, “when you have less time.”
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L. A. Mereoie: Bill Of Fire And Fear
Their shooting day was no mere sham
With nothing at it done by halves.
Guests lunched on fiery curried lamb,
Though, later, some had peppered calves.
◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊
Heather Dubrow: Lightening Up
My extensive, detailed. thoughtful emails,
Colleagues quite often complain bring them grief.
So they implore can't I be more
Brief?
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Russel Winick: Love Supplants
His girlfriends had always been strikingly blonde,
A feature of which he was mightily fond.
But his brand new wife’s hair is dark as the night.
A checklist gets tossed when you find one who’s right.
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Chris O’Carroll: Clerihew After the Wedding After the Funeral
Queen Gertrude
Shrugs, “I conclude
That in Denmark’s Royal bedchamber, one brother
Is as good as another.”
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Brian Allgar: Catastrophe
We called our sweet pussycat “Edie”,
The pearl of her species and sex.
But she’s ripped up the curtains and cushions –
Throughout the house, Edie-puss wrecks.
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L.A. Mereoie: Economy Drive
‘Half Gun available in well organised shoot . . .’
- Advertisement
A half, or game-conserving, gun,
That lamb in wolf’s apparel,
Looks very like the usual one
But has a missing-barrel.
◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊
Bruce Bennett: On The Limits of Consciousness
I’ve learned that it is hard to know a
whole lot about protozoa.
Still, if my mind was really small,
I wouldn’t know anything at all.
