Dismally dashing, clashing cankering, sunken ravines
Braved the batterings of the black, heaving sea
Seized upon the cyclical stream ‘lined ‘long the wind
Yonder b’yond the decrepit hail,
Nailing mine knees upon this hill.
I sang by a bygone cheer, a childish chortle
Honed where, and whence
Mine woes wade with homeward hopes.
Now, where one dare awoke,
a-top such the slope
To sing a song that shall beat at the bulkheads,
of the boats borne below
A sonnet sung to arise with the seeds of the soil
Arise as a rose
Manned with the majesty, the masculinity,
Of the man within me.
So to see the afflicting affections,
Of the sanctity without me.
So to see and reel in the eel,
Of un-static enthusiasm.
So to know, mine might may deem me,
Not the man within me,
A dastardly indelicate dame.
11//5//2026
He foils all jokes, punchlines and jocularity
He foils all contrary philosophies in hilarity
He's sarcastic and sardonic, he's even ironic
Soon to be iconic and witted supersonic
He stands for absolute truth, this trailer trash sleuth
Rap Reynolds is his name, giving noogies is his game
This spark started in a trailer park
Conceived to be, and to leave his mark
A foiler of all who attempt comedy
And the outcome (for them) is a tragedy
All those who claim contrariness will be slain
He will counteract the bane of the vain
Spoiler alert The Foiler has come to foil the plans
Ready, aim, fire and all the funny business dying with a laugh
Oh no it seems every time an Eighties tune is played
(Within earshot) I transport instantly to that time and space
And for every knee slapper there is a counteract-er
He never went to college and he'll steal all your musical knowledge
P.S. Does he chortle and guffaw at every flaw
Is he witty and urbane towards the lines that are flubbed
Nah he just needs his tummy rubbed
And even though she is in a different dimension
He thinks a lot of Emma Bankz, she's his cardinal direction
There’s potential for anything in the hospital.
Anyone could drift into a hospital gown.
Dawning on them at dawn, then again at noon.
They have enough hospital gowns for all of us and more.
And they all have a couple holes in them.
So do our stories which combine into one giant skeleton.
Got built by us over years,
We don’t know if he’s real or fake but looks a little paler than most types of bone.
Our stories may not always align.
But we chortle and pick at our wounds in front of the tv.
Pretend to be ghosts.
Under our beds, we roll over.
My eyes.
As my mouth almost moves, which in here?
Can’t do anything- harm, good, howling.
None.
In the hospital.
Things move like a slow motion swamp.
Guilt us.
I’ve been here three days.
As we interconnect like chalk lines around a body.
The hospital.
How can you call it that?
This is a plot of land in space and no time at all.
How can you call it that?
Just how…
Dusk is blinding, but champagne illuminates.
—Poet
Champagne Date at Purple Dusk
Purple champagne and candlelight.
Dusk’s hue through flutes; the beach forthright.
Butterflies; two chairs sink in sand.
Her crescent smile as moon takes flight.
They’ve been beached in gleam of dreamland.
Bashful lashes rise; sea tears land.
Bubbles rise to her nose; she snorts.
The chortle of horizon scanned.
Her twilight eyes - amethyst quartz.
His aquamarines, she supports.
Alas, rough and tumble, this date.
High tide and tension as he courts.
His romantic gesture isn’t late.
He’s new to this dame…and there’s fate!
Lips lock as they’re kind of tipsy.
Friends set them up on a blind date.
.
edvard'z chortle
i've spoke uv hern
yesterday
yesterweak
yestermonth
yeah you know
yesteryear
hear'z uhfact
all uv hern
'fore mine
ahora
her bulbeyne excite'd smile
shark toophs
anxious
*yesterweak spell'd with thuh
astute think ')
Some know life is short and must end
But that fact has started a trend:
Billionaires seem sure
The wealth they procure
Binds eternal life as their friend
What buys their time line immortal?
Having a body-parts portal
But rich reliance
On crypto science
Gives us who’ll die time to chortle
sink full of dishes
rubbish bin overflowing
damp clothes filter through ~
chaos and stars rise
sellotaped window gives smile
Sirius does too ~
dance one step at time
upheaval rises to laugh
floral socks threadbare ~
peanut butter bread
ants eat crumbs while pen cold waits
cracked chaos chortle ~
Dang it, I tried
Hang it, I cried
I hate to chortle at the sound of broken laughter,
Just like I refrain from weeping when dancing smoke fills my eyes . . .
But when dogs mourn alone,
I chafe my hands with the cold of tears of solitude.
Monuments and cairns I crave among the icy
Terrains, where dogs’ paws leave eternal marks —
The print-marks of an important visit,
Evidence of life on desiccated earth.
On board The Fram they sailed majestically
In the beginning,
Before joining a steam of blizzards they escaped from,
Returning home, northwards, gelid and depressing,
For a funeral of dogs,
The ceremony of age,
Attended largely by silent yaps of strayed thunder.
Momma said, "Don't chortle!
It's rude.
But I won the game!
My small fame.
Can't I just enjoy the win?
Chuckle over the loss.
No one is hurt.
Just a game!
Chortling is my pleasure.
It's my 10 second of fame.
Never last long.
Momma said, " Chortling is not a pretty sight!
Makes you look like a jerk,
Even if your right!"
I know she is right.
But tonight, I'll chortle,
I have the right!
Chortle! Chortle!
Never last long.
My 10 seconds of fame.
Just for tonight!
Mister Misanthrope had given up hope
On the entire human race
He'd bark and he'd bleat as he walked down the street
With a grimace on his face
Each day he would howl with a snarl and scowl
Most folk scurried as he neared
He'd chortle of death with foul rancid breath
Which was exactly what they feared
The skies became gray the birds flew away
Even rats would turn their backs
The locals weren't dreaming went running and screaming
To avoid his verbal attacks
One day in the valley down tornado alley
There formed a massive cyclone
With joy they saw Mister riding that twister
Into the great unknown
The CRUNCHING of tyres on the gravelly driveway
The CLANG of the garden gate sharply closing
The CLICK of the key in the lock
The old door CREAKING open on its hinges
The SNAP of the light switch to brighten the house
The SWISH of the curtains being drawn
The CLATTER of crockery being laid on the table
The GUSH of water from the tap into the kettle
The WHISPER ,HISS and SPLUTTER of the boiling kettle
The annoying SLURP of a GULP of tea
The CHORTLE of laughter around the table
The SCRAPING of chairs being drawn back
The CRACKLE of the open fire in the sitting room
The SCRATCH of a match to light the pipe
The comfort of being indoors at the first CLAP of thunder
The even more comforting CLINK of glasses for a safe homecoming
Sundial numerals illuminate
Knowing noon narrow shadow arrow strikes
Flicks ‘round corners of maze elaborate
Heraldic daffodil, dormant out psychs
Lion, amber assured stride resolute
Teams beside mine, admires canter cloud bounce
Trembled meshing manes make brushstrokes astute
Abstract turns apparent, rewound amounts
Labyrinth lane secures our fears slumbering
Canary chortle performs audacious
Honey wine celebrates when Summer brings
Walls torched in lofty laughing blazes
Flung flaxen, fertile wheat fields’ wispy waltz
Scorched xanthe seeds multiply dream results
24th July
Yellow Leo
Biting through strings on girlish giggles
harrowing the echo of church bells;
Overpowering with sweetness
rolling in good times that tune foretells,
Magick you always want to join in,
tragic to know it’s a small circle;
Fabric that has been stitched together,
dramatic their chorus of chortle.
.
just close your eyne y'all
and
imagine mine
chortle
well
uhhh
i guess
snicker
when
her brother
with
swollen breast
likewize
hiz verbosity
"nun y'all better touch
my sis"
oops
,)
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