Mr O’Malley was rather smelly
And used to frequently fart
Mrs Kelly owned a telly
And rode in a horse and cart.
Old Joe Blogs had lots of dogs
That used to poo in his yard
While Mr Scoggs looked like a frog
And resembled a tub of lard.
Mr Bruce looked like a goose
And spent the day grazing on grass
The trouble was it made his bowels loose
And he constantly wiped his ass.
But my favourite was Mavis Davis
Who always had jam scones for tea
Then after supper she’d have a big cuppa
And do copious amounts of wee.
The copious serpents bedded the wolves and the sheepish grins so too unfolded the poker table is lit tonight, stripped table legs that oaken tonight, so left from the gambler were his life savings like Vegas unmatched the true course of daisies, and so darker hell-bent marble furl and regain consciousness so that we may too see the world.
The Paiute tribes, before they fell*,
were known to use, masterfully well,
copious pumice and obsidian,
found on the alpine meridian,
where the Long Valley Caldera blew to hell.
* "fell" might not be the right word. A little Internet research tells me that one of the Paiute tribes, the "Bishop Paiute Tribe" has a reservation near Bishop California, near the Mammoth Lakes area, where I collected pumice and obsidian as a child.
The sun is overjoyed
reaching its zenith
suspending in cloudless sapphire skies
in a scarlet lit horizon
its solar sheen is veiled,
beyond the handsome hacienda
hidden from ancient alibis
a time of musings I can’t resist
I paint a likeness of her,
wistful watercolor bursts
highlights by brushed strokes
gently caressing her skin, she wears
an unrestrained ear to ear grin
recherché, warmth rare
as a ruby red stone
a sonorous soprano’s tone
ravened tresses cascade unruly
copious tangled locks flow wild
within stirs the silver stars,
she perceives the wisdom in the callow
& indelible in the wise
youths’ oval ebony, &soulful eyes
a generous yet haunting sad smile,
transcending space &time
it rids me of my harden heart’s denial
on a quest of her own,
a love child grown
…&so has a
a mother’s love
The cart of time carries me along the ordained path
from the listless life rooted in the threshold of present
to the desolate wilderness where I was once.
That’s the fading past receding away fast,
waiting to get abandoned and obliterated.
Lying in the shadow’s edge of the furtive future,
creating the convivial flood of copious craving,
inundating the lavish landscape of my ornate life,
I dwell in the fancy desire domain of perpetuity
with the deathless dream of delusive longevity.
I perceive the pulsating memory undying
reside in the remote recess of the passionate past,
where the beguiled bird of my love for life
soars in the seamless sky of my sensual present,
wings of hope flutter to fly past the future horizon.
I drift to the certain end with the immortal soul,
floating entranced in the sublime sea of eternity
with winds of love blowing on impermanent sail.
I yearn to get from the divine time for my life
the treasured magnanimous gift of longevity.
There once was a man named Clem
Who had copious amounts of phlegm
To his consternation
This sticky situation
Happened again and again and again.
Here’s teetotaler Trump and his team,
All there to fulfil MAGA dream.
Let Trump be abstemious,
But his team drinks copious,
Comes on top of table
FBI’s Ka$h Patel,
His Bourbon drink filled to the brim.
There’s White House ‘happy hour’
Which they deny, never,
Take war secretary
Who telltale tales carry,
That of Labour, a miss,
Always drinks in office,
There’s Rudy Giullani
And unknown so many…
No wonder, MAGA dream looks grim.
________________________
Happenings | 13.05.2026 | humour, USA, political, Limerick
Normally people claim to like
New things. However, this is
Not always the case.
Neuropharmacologists have found that high levels of
Norepinephrine can alter minds to cause other
Neurotransmitters to direct thoughts along
Non-divergent paths so that the old is preferred and
Now reject any changes to environment.
Naturally people will take a
Noncommittal approach to all of this by denying all of this if asked
Negotiations will then take place to elicit the truth from these
Nonconformists who feel that anything said will be printed in the latest
Newsletter for Neurological Sciences which will make them appear to be
Neurotic
Neophytes. They may feel they have to inhale copious amounts of
Nitrous Oxide to regain their sense of
Normalcy. But this is being
Naïve.
No amount of a drug will allow them the
Novel lifestyle they so enjoy.
Politicians the world over
Love a greasy combover
Tell copious lies
And wear gaudy ties.
Politicians the world over
Hope scandals will blow over
Have scrotum necks
And never have extramarital sex.
Politicians the world over
Perform even while hungover
Love to show piety
Especially the Christian variety.
They feather their own nest
The common people they detest
Each other they will talk-over
That’s politicians the world over.
Bottomless
utterances
arise and express
as nothing~
A free-fall it has been called
which may imply handholds
but there is no one to fall~
Free-fallers are discoverers
in stories grasping to
express what is
Bottomless~~
I announce the great individual, fluid as Nature, chaste, affectionate, compassionate, fully armed; I announce a life that shall be copious, vehement, spiritual, bold, And I announce an end that shall lightly and joyfully meet its translation.
~~Walt Whitman
I praise the everlasting fount,
so glorious in its amount.
Who would have ever thought, I sighed,
I had such copious snot inside.
A tissue box? I took the suggestion
and endeavored to clear my congestion.
At first, I was relieved and elated
till I found I was entirely deflated.
If I see balmy bliss more than bane,
Every leaf filled with fresh new wonder,
Each cloud an omen of copious rain,
The new world would nudge me to ponder…
The dismal would still bestir my brain,
The bizarre would give me boundless joy
To muse if I were a child again--
A wide-eyed wonder-struck little boy!
And for sure, I was just so of late--
As one hopes to be in his eighties,
Lovely did the world look, worth a wait,
Were I bestowed brand new pair of eyes?
A new stance has taught me how to see,
What so far was tunnel look to me.
____________________
Sonnet | 15.03.2017 | child, life, lovely/beautiful, world
Note: Set in anapaest tri-meter. And it was so despite my glaucoma-caused constrained peripheral vision.
When what life gives is so profound,
Why on what-not woes we dwell on?
Things of joy are found all around,
Why on shadows should we dwell on?
Sweet memories in life abound,
Why on sorrows should we dwell on?
When flowers everywhere are found,
Why on prickly claws we dwell on?
Copious spells Spring on earth’s home ground,
Why on celestial rose dwell on?
________________________________
Ghazal |18.09.2025 | earth, heaven, joy, life
Note: This ghazal is slightly off the traditional. There are five couplets, all the first lines of which rhyme, whilst the second line has the refrain (Radif) ‘dwell on’ following the rhyme (Kafia) like woes, shadows, sorrows, claws, and rose.
Inspired by Bruce Dickinson song Darkside of Aquarius
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the wings of the first hellrider rode venom —
so copious it stained sky and moonlight,
making mothers bolt their doors
against the eastern warmonger's hot gust.
From molten rock and flaming seas the second rode,
hawking evil wares; his tongue a forge of lies,
spinning promises, seeding secret agents
to rule and mislead in every land.
The third came as a preacher of war ~
turning brothers on brothers, sisters on sisters,
tilling the soil with blood to make it ready
for the fourth — who carved theology into terror.
I tried to run — my feet sunk in wet clay.
Then a lone silver surfer appeared:
from starlit sky or silver sea I could not tell;
he drew me from the mire, breathed strength into my arms.
I vowed to reinvent the wheel:
let fascists taste their own venom, feed their children poisons they brewed,
slay kin with the swords they bloodied.
Death will kiss them in their sleep.
He whirred around for quite some time
hounding his stubby runt tail
copious spittle, a flying trail
coating the walls with sticky slime;
before stopping, panting a spell
then restarting counterclockwise
as if it would less tantalize;
the tail continued to rebel.
The cat looked on in feline scorn
I, in turn, observed both dog and cat,
who was having fun; me, the cat,
or dog pursuing a chase forlorn?
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