Mardi gras Allie from New Orleans
Flipped his tail and showed his greens
the decorator was thrilled and dressed him up
in purple waistcoat, so he could go to sup
at a genteel lady’s house, her name was Kat
He wore a flower in his lapel and a tall top hat
He is debonair and handsome too, she bragged
Her compliments for Allie never lagged
Chuckling Nelson Mandela
carried a chequered umbrella
almost thirty years on Robben Island, a prison
he ascended to a powerful Presidency, wearing a red ribbon !
________________________
[Poet’s Note : President Mandela actually did occasionally wear a small red ribbon on his lapel, during his Office, indicating support for AIDS sufferers, at the time when the disease was at its peak, worldwide]
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Placed 2nd : Clerihew Contest
Sponsored : Tania Kitchin
May 26
On Saturday, the nation will
Join forces east to west
To protest this administration,
Easy to detest.
Called “No Kings” with no explanation
Offered or required,
There will be large-scale gatherings
This “leader” has inspired.
To show support, I thought I’d buy
Some “No Kings” merchandise –
A hat or tee or even
Some lapel pins would suffice.
The quickest way to find this
Would be Amazon, for sure.
No matter what you think about it,
Speed’s its biggest lure.
So I was shocked when, on the site,
Most “No Kings” items shown
Could not or would not be delivered
(Cue the sad trombone…)
Until at least the 28th
Or after; either case
Would get here past the point
When “No Kings” day had taken place.
I don’t think it is paranoid
To see Jeff Bezos’ role,
For when it comes to Amazon,
He’s kind of in control.
Ironically, this underscores
How vital is this cause,
For when greed and power rule, we’ve learned,
The kings make all the laws.
I had heard about the new cult in town, the gray rabbit express
It was stated that the followers did not show much happiness
They dressed in gray outfits, dresses usually, and rabbit ears
What is your main concern? I asked the sheriff. What are your fears?
I wonder if these girls were abducted, you need to interview them.
at the gate I was turned around by guard dog named Flem.
knew what his name was because he had a sign on his collar, in blue.
I ran from this compound, feeling threatened, ‘tis true.
The girls did not attend public school, but they sometimes came to town.
never alone; their chaperone was close and always gave a frown.
I tried to speak to them a few times, but they ignored me and my voice.
I gave up finally, said the most aggressive interviewer in town, Mrs. Joyce.
I saw four of them on the street one day, walking in a solemn line.
I said good day and asked how they were, none of them said “fine”.
They ignored me as if I had not spoken at all, brainwashed maybe.
Soon joined by another cult chaperone, her lapel said McGee.
I had a dream that felt so real,
Even awake, it felt surreal.
Sitting in my comfy chair,
Goosebumps rose as I sat there.
Reality hit—I caught my breath—
I almost tossed it out, a part of me to sudden death.
Tossed aside, cast away,
Taking life in stride, but losing my way.
Hurt, angry, feeling empty,
Overlooking life’s gifts—of which there are plenty.
Just so tired of the injustice,
Of tyranny, of turning away, and caustic
Jokes,
Hoax
Created by man in flesh and bone,
The high and mighty, perched on their throne.
Throwing the baby out with the bathwater,
Trying to survive each day, balancing on a teeter-totter.
Magma mater pinned to your lapel,
Casting all sins aside like a spell.
Reality sets in, and my eyes are wide open—
The tragedy of what could have been,
So grim.
The thing that I almost tossed out—
My soul, I shout!
The clairvoyant could be a schizophrenic, or is it the other way around?
Cymbals of the mime must be unbearably loud.
Flowers are for glade and not the lapel of blue clowns.
Is it better for a stray to be forever chained down
or go running off with a pack of the unfound.
After death are we whisked off to heaven
or does the soul shatter against a cold Black wall?
Is faith just a mirage for the eternally weak
or is it a gilded pathway to the purist of all kings?
Fancy dancy rooster with a cha cha cha
Strumped up like a prancy peacock, with a fah lah lah
Suit jacket was custom made by Dior himself, of course.
Daisies on the lapel are much too much said the horse.
The barnyard was messy with manure and stuff.
Fancy dancy rooster got splashed, stalked off in a huff.
Acts like a male peacock too, a peahen said.
The hens agreed that everything went straight to his head.
(the first day of March)
Am I as lonely as that cloud?
I kneel this early time of day.
The traffic’s quite thin now, not loud,
while I am crouching, seem to pray!
St David’s Day is here, with chills.
That cloud looks down on Wales and hills.
I’m kneeling down upon this grass
to pluck the yellow one to pin
on my lapel now; no feet pass.
I’m brooding here on Wordsworth’s spin
on words that conjure on this hill
my single golden daffodil.
(1 Mar 2024)
(William Wordsworth, English poet, 1770-1850: “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud”, in which he saw a "host of golden daffodils"; this is the same pattern and rhyme scheme)
St Patrick’s day cat wore a tam to die for.
We saw him the second he sauntered into the door.
The pub would never be the same, he was glamor and more.
A fine dapper Irish cat, who serenaded us with folklore.
He has such fashion sense! The females all cried.
He gave us a stomping dance, a jig, and a slide.
St Patrick’s day cat with coral roses on his lapel.
Showed us the way out of our daily hell-to-hell.
We followed him to Dublin singing an Irish ditty.
The felines all followed, screaming how he was pretty.
St Patrick’s day cat ruined it that day for other Toms.
I did not see him myself, but have heard from his moms.
Older lady with face of a ninety-year old
Wore a bejeweled spider on her lapel
It was striking, many commented
Others seemed to not notice
How you could not notice, I do not know
She was a tiny woman, weighing seventy pounds
Two of it was from the spider brooch
It was her inheritance someone whispered.
I was not sure what they meant.
Her only inheritance?
Her favorite inheritance?
From her parents or from a man?
I did not know her well enough to ask.
But I stared at it for a long time.
This spider was an undisputed beauty.
An artesian had done well.
Every Father's smile
is more brilliant than the sun that shines forever in the sky;
Here on earth I've only had one father and as far as I can recall
he was the most tender loving hearted man I ever met
When I was small he lovingly guided me, sharing his wisdom,
he helped me grow into the woman I am today;
I realize that Fatherhood was a gift that was bestowed on me
so I never took for granted his loving doting ways
He was my first hero, the guardian of my hopes and dreams
he always sheltered me from the outside world
I thank God for the father I had growing up, for I lacked of nothing
so when he died I pinned a gold angel on his lapel
and accepted the fact that God, needed an angel to guard His lair
Late at night when I cannot sleep I close me eyes and think of him,
and suddenly, I feel him everywhere !
Pink tulip please the merry nuthatch said.
On your lapel? Oh no. On my head.
It has such fragrance, fancy indeed.
I’d wear it proudly with my feathered tweed.
An acorn topper for me, oh please.
Shy cardinal said to the passing breeze.
Fashion me a cap of gold thread said Ted.
He loved a bit of royalty on his head.
A red hummingbird had naught to say.
Quickly turned tail and flew away.
Robin politely waited for her turn.
These bird hat preferences made my ears burn.
The Rose is the ultimate floral Queen!
A radiant beauty. Colourful blooms.
A feature of any idyllic scene.
Some live in gardens, others brighten rooms.
Delicate. Precious to the beholder.
A symbol of affection in romance.
Nestled in a lapel 'neath a shoulder
For a wedding, a funeral, a dance.
Appreciate their glory. Sing their song!
A sweet aroma have some, others none.
Don't take them for granted. They don't stay long.
Suddenly they season out and are gone!
Spiky leaves and petals tender,
Grace our vision with their splendor.
Written 17th September 2022
(My first Sonnet)
The parade is marching to the beat of the drum
With the skirl of the pipes with their distinctive hum
Everywhere you look there's bright shades of green
It's the day of the year, that the Irish love to be seen.
During the great famine many were forced to roam
And settled in far away places, that they now call home
But their hearts are in Ireland and there's no better way
To connect with fellow country men on this very special day.
But it's a community event and people from every nation
Join the proud Irish for the craic, in their big celebration
Each county has a banner and folks proudly march behind
Many with green foliage on their lapel, it's shamrock you'll find.
After the parade it continues, with music dancing and song
And if there's celebrations near you, make sure you go along
You'll be given a big welcome, it's the Irish way
And join in the fun celebrations on this St Patrick's day.
Written 17th March 2022
HAPPY ST PATRICK'S DAY
(Craic- In Ireland it means having a great time)
I wonder why you stole it –
As a trade-in for some food?
To pay a debt or maybe just
‘Cause you were in the mood?
Perhaps you simply liked the style –
A squarish flat red stone
Set into gold, quite possibly
The nicest thing you’d own.
My grandpa made it easy –
In the hospital, in bed.
Was he still breathing when you took it
Or already dead?
As a kid, I liked to touch it,
Feel the smoothness of the gem.
My brothers liked it, too –
It should be worn by one of them.
But no, you had to have it
For the family, wracked by grief,
Didn’t think about the chance
Of being ripped off by a thief.
*This happened over 50 years ago but
I either never knew about it or had forgotten
it. My brother recently reminded me of the
story. A diamond lapel pin was also taken.
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