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Ivo Cos Poem
A smooth sea never made a skillful mariner
Work smart, persevere and don't fear failure
A smooth sea never made a skilled sailor
Work smart, persevere and you'll be a winner
Copyright © Ivo Cos | Year Posted 2014
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Ivo Cos Poem
I'll try to tell you without my usual cant
that all I wanted was to go sailing with
Sherry Saturday morning but I can't!
My hovercraft is full of eels!
The watchman phoned when I was lying
in bed to notify me of this.
I was shocked to find he wasn't lying!
My hovercraft is full of eels!
My good-will has been weakened
because of this horrid event
which completely ruined my weekend.
My hovercraft is full of eels!
These morbid creatures are serious
party-poopers. Remember!: Their
electricity is deleterious.
My hovercraft is full of eels!
My beloved Birthday present invaded by
these heinous monsters! I will have to buy
a new one 'cause to this one I must say bye!
My hovercraft is full of eels!
Ghastly! You don't know how this feels!
My hovercraft is full of eels!
Copyright © Ivo Cos | Year Posted 2014
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Ivo Cos Poem
The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog
The hound takes no notice and sleeps like a log
The quick dog jumps over the lazy brown fox
The tod is dog-tired—had a fight with the ox.
Copyright © Ivo Cos | Year Posted 2014
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Ivo Cos Poem
Not advertising that flippant flick. I just want to know
where my blooming flivver is. It ruffles my feathers no
end to find out, when exiting the embassy,
that my buggy's whereabouts are a mystery.
I must meet Sherry 'cause her right toe
wants a sweet kiss. Did the camel tow
my car? That blasted mammal! Sherry's dear
foot can't wait! Please do not tell me the deer
took my buggy! That son of a Witch
would fine
me with a very pricey mulct which
isn't fine!
Not another loathsome tax
to put up with! Oh no, Lord, please!
I beg thou hearken to my pleas!
Now, let's come down to tin tacks.
I need my bloody car! A choice bass
cooked by Sherry awaits me. The crass
specimen who's got my car is so base,
and I'm so cross! The camel has a bass
voice that creeps me out! I do not want to
deal with him. I cannot even stomach two
secs the sight of the deer. He's ugly too.
II.
On returning to his flat, mad as a goat,
Ivo found on the door, the following note:
Dear Ivo,
I hereby inform you that your awfully and
illegally parked streetcar has been impounded.
Come pick it up at the City Hall and
bring cash with you for there's a fine. 8 hundred
clams.
Much love,
The Crane from Ukraine.
Blimey! That heartless crane! I won't give her a buck!
Now I know the ruffians weren't the camel and the buck.
Well, let's be fair, it wouldn't be cricket to pass the buck.
I didn't park properly. It's my fault. That's it. I will not buck
at the fine.
III.
I got my car back for free. How? l told the crane;
"I'm in a hurry to meet Sherry who needs me to canoodle
her feet. I'll have tonight for dinner a bass fish with noodles."
"If a foot massage like the ones I used to get in Ukraine.
you give me, I will be happy to call off the mulct." said she.
I pleased her feet very much. She loved it. Then we got some tea.
IV.
I'm on my way home to eat some bass,
with my beloved and awesome lass.
It's so nice to be able to dine
without having paid that gruesome fine.
Copyright © Ivo Cos | Year Posted 2014
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Ivo Cos Poem
Wesley Melvin Buchan, also known as Wesmechan,
was a pusillanimous and a good-for-nothing,
although some people consider him a charlatan,
this scoundrel's office runs like a three-ring
circus. Oddly enough, many his coworkers and
classmates fear him no end, like a spider obsessed
with the asphyxia of planets, but the magic wand,
however, whether you like it or not, will infest
your brain and your wallet. Far from being a panegyric
this is indeed a diatribe, injected by venomous expletives,
deserved by this lunkhead, Wesley, a most idiotic
waste of space but I love him, although he's not my relative.
Copyright © Ivo Cos | Year Posted 2015
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Ivo Cos Poem
It's in a turtle soup shop where I'm employed
It's my duty to cook vomit-inducing soup turtle
which no decent human palate could stand;
a horrid job and a salary which is even worse,
an insult to my brilliant overdeveloped mind;
Not to mention the iniquitous schedule,
though there's something much worse:
the appalling uniform which is an insult
to a nonfrivolous mind like mine;
and in no way instrumental in contributing
to social elegance but a pathological attack
on good taste and gumption!
a distorted regurgitation of undigested
food for thought!
A lavender cup with the grotesque company logo!
The unsightly checked fuchsia and gray pants!
And to top it all: a striped khaki and purple poncho!
My odious uniform! Imported from Togo!
A lovely idea had the company's honcho!
An idea that my Togolese friend rejects!
I hug him! I look up to him!
'Cause he abhors both poncho and honcho!
Cripes! Yikes!
Dinner's ready! Yucky turtle soup I shall regurgitate!
Copyright © Ivo Cos | Year Posted 2015
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Ivo Cos Poem
Moon of the night,
I wish you could sing
You're indispensable to my being,
You guide me through this land,
of sparrows and nightingales,
over the bottle-green grass,
rain or shine or snow;
You're there every night
and the wrens sing to you,
contemplating you
and pondering on their thirst;
and in your eyes they see,
a lovely face,
for you have a face,
like all moons,
sometimes different
but you have one face
A face that illuminates.
Copyright © Ivo Cos | Year Posted 2014
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Ivo Cos Poem
It was not a dark and stormy night
The night was not sultry nor moist
The sky's color didn't please the knight.
The Knight was a gentleman since his youth.
That that Knight had had a thing for mares
of the night was not whatsoever an untruth.
But today, he is OK, managing his wares.
The firmament was red and raining.
It rained blood. 1920! I was eight.
The Knight was fond of chess playing.
When he saw a white knight
was missing he rushed to the stable. The horse ate
the knight!
Luckily, his rival, the Czech
had brought with himself a board.
Thus, it's impossible to be bored!
Nevertheless, the Knight punished the horse
for eating the knight. What a night!
And, although the Knight's voice was hoarse
as a crow he made sure the cheeky horse
would behave. "Now back to the stable!"
At this point, the Knight, didn't feel stable.
Now, let's go back to the chess match!
They did make sure the pieces match.
And the Czech, ludicrously, bust out a match
for his cigar. Now, not a missing piece!
Great! They can start the game in peace!
11 minutes later, the Czech mate
won. So, he said: "Checkmate!"
$100 prize! A cheque signed the Knight.
"This is a bogus cheque, mate!"
cried the Czech. What a horsey night!
They both heard
the horse neigh.
A lamb in the herd
heard the Czech say: "Nay!
This is a counterfeit cheque!
You can't do this to a Czech!
I had you in check
only once before checkmating you!
You won't pay? Gimme the ripe ewe!"
"I can't! The ewe is on the lam!"
"Then if no ewe, you get me a lamb!
Should you refuse, I shall touch the piano!"
Dark Castle. Knight and Czech keep arguing.
Stark hassle. Night can't check this lightning.
The mussel sleeps
and counts
ewes, lambs, sheep
and Counts.
The Count's mussel
can't count muscles.
Copyright © Ivo Cos | Year Posted 2014
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Ivo Cos Poem
Not only the one who sulks does barely nothing,
he also bums out the rest of his acquaintances,
diminishing their cheerfulness and good will,
strewing this distressing mentality among other folks,
getting their minds infected with his contagious stress
It's all but inherent in humans to mope now and then,
yet there are fellows who do so too frequently;
they contaminate other minds with their behavior,
Thus they're giving rise to more mopers and so on;
Let's not be mopers so that life smiles at us and we at her.
Copyright © Ivo Cos | Year Posted 2014
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Ivo Cos Poem
The Headless Greenlandic Horseman
A Meditation in 6 parts.
Avalanche
I.
The sky is starry
The night is scary
I'm very afraid
of the living dead;
On a mission; or Fugitives in the city
II.
The headless Greenlandic horseman
speaks Kalaallisut very well indeed,
plus Dansk and English! What a man!
A polyglot he is! Yes, sir! Although he
Is evil and wants to behead Mr. Donn
Oh! How horrible! How horrible! The
reason being, Donn owes him plenty
of money. More than 500.000 bucks!
Camera Obscura
III.
Mikko Donn (whose dad is Finnish) is a fugitive in the city
& Hansen, the cowboy from Kalaallit Nunaat, is his hunter;
500.000 U$ is that debt's figure, folks;
Oh! This is horrid! Truly horrid for sure!
I contemplate upon this very jittery and jumpy
Oh, I am scared! Oh, yes! I am scared!
Donn's head is at stake--because he's a debtor;
Another headless man? And multilingual again?
Isn't that whimsical? A headless man wants to
decapitate another man and both speak many
superb languages! That's admirable! Yes, sir!
Spasmodic Apostrophes
IV.
Ave Hansen, Morituri te Salutant
anthropologizing, vexillologizing;
Well, Donn's head is still extant.
Though, I dare ask, for how long?
Equestrian Interregnum
V.
Fear is what Donn feels
even down to his heels;
He feels he's gonna puke
even though he is a duke!
The philanderer's philter will save him no longer
The Greenlander and his plug are after him;
There's no escape--the event is rather grim;
He is doomed. Period. Good-bye, fishmonger!
Hurkle! Hurkle! Hurkle!
VI.
Donn's head is safe now. Why?
Because of my idea; Donn is a fish vendor
and has a friend who is a surgeon;
Therefore, I suggested "What about implanting
a fish's head on Hansen? Wouldn't it be nice?"
Donn okayed what I said & called his friend,
Mr. Sherry, the surgeon. Hansen accepted.
They made a deal. Besides the fish's head,
Donn has to teach Hansen Suomi, a
perfect language. And that's how this tale
ends. Hansen and Donn became friends
and ate partridges together.
Copyright © Ivo Cos | Year Posted 2014
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