It looks like a yo-yo
so it should spin round and round
going every which way
when I throw it down
it feels like a yo-yo
so it should whirl to beat the band
it's right here at my fingertips
but it's out of hand
I call him Duncan
and want to see him loop the loop
go round the world walk the dog
rock the baby and do the sleeper too
but he can push a person
past the point of no return
and what will I do then
when will I ever learn
why my yo-yo won't go yo
when I let it go
it drops to the bitter end of the string
but won't come back
or do anything
no it's a bust I just don't know
why my yo-yo won't go yo
Lake of beauty there in France
Invitation for romance
Of course you know what I'll now say
I want to go with you someday
We don't know French but no big deal
We'll learn together, so much appeal
There is in doing things with you
And I still hope you want me to
But if you don't I understand
And I'll still write odes by my hand
To let you know that I'm still here
Expressing love through words, my dear
And if one day that well runs dry
Just look for me up in the sky
A little plane can create art
With it I'll draw for you a heart
And loop-the-loop over your head
In yellow smoke, a feather bed
Of lilac clouds and Vera Wang
Ascends from you, those scents will hang
And blend in with my best cologne
Acqua di Gio descends down
A fragrant zephyr fills the air
Together, forever floating there
Some pigeons pooped in the bottle garden
Without as much as “I beg your pardon”
Did loop the loop afore plopping their poop
In the neck of the bottle with one swoop.
It is clear that it does cometh to pass
Bottle gardens become mucky morass
For onto those bottles of flora, alas
Pigeons ejectamenta en mass.
Richi, Liz and Boris,
which one will the fountain bless?
What wise owl flies to our aid
and pulls us from this mess?
Vultures make lazy circles
and falcons loop the loop.
Maybe they won't say boo to a goose
or are they planning when to swoop?
Keir Starmer's counting chickens,
but here there is a catch.
How long does he have to wait
before those chicklets hatch?
Gleaming stars in a Chinese percaline teacup
around its rim golden dragons loop the loop.
If the vessel had been larger
a trillion lights could have shone
from that Jasmin infusion.
A young man could get drunk,
a mere youth could lose his mind
looking upon the delicate hand
that offers it to him.
Green orient eyes smile
knowing the spell
will work then and yet later.
A much older man
drinks tea from a mug,
a memory still engendering
a fragrant light-headedness.
Butterfly Soup
I've eaten mussels
eaten clams
chewed on meat
with ancient man
drowned in chocolate
ice-cream scoops
but nothing compares
to butterfly soup
I've taken drugs
in Amsterdam
been run over
by their trams
spent seven cold nights
in an old chicken coop
but nothing lives up
to a butterfly soup
I'm the first man
on the moon
the only caveman
to use a spoon
an acrobatic
loop the loop
but nothing excites
like a butterfly soup
You won't get far
with foie de gras
nor eating olives
at the bar
one thing to rely on
in your old age stoop
is a colourful bowl
of butterfly soup
With thrash of wings our primal fly
lifts off, straight up, into the sky.
He shows off latest flying skills
with loop-the-loop and steep dive thrills.
In this way he patrols his patch
to guard the spot where those eggs hatch.
He is one tough fighting machine;
his whole fabric brutal and mean.
Living within his armour plate
he is a battle tank complete.
Four mighty wing muscles for drive.
With fast response he stays alive.
Six sturdy legs for landing gear
so he can drop on flat or sheer.
Three hundred million years extant
while other creatures went extinct.
Soon Odonata rule the Earth.
These dragonflies have shown their worth.
It’s time to board the Aircraft Carrier
You are welcome to step inside
Flying like a nitrous boosted harrier
That’s zooming down a greased up slide
The destroyer lurks on the horizon
We ready the poetic torpedo
In time for our dramatic liaison
Which will increase our verbal libido
I hope you look forward to reading our works
To bask in our poetic manner
Our ponderings have already irked
But our syntax is strong like an angry Bruce Banner
We will not be silenced by the Soup
We will stand tall to carry Aircraft
We will sometimes fly a loop-the-loop
We will poke you with our poetic shaft
The witches flying overhead,
With shrieks and cackles, loop the loop;
And people scream to watch them swoop.
Respect the evening of the dead,
As zombies groan and werewolves howl,
And vampires wander on the prowl.
The night fills human hearts with dread,
As necromancers cast a spell,
And things are creeping out from Hell.
The witches flying overhead
Respect the evening of the dead;
The night fills human hearts with dread.
For Andrea and Connie’s Constanza contest
All I have is one external voice
But I have many internal voices
Not the kind of voices that make me crazy
Although the natural struggle is a bit insane
So many thoughts to express with my words
So many words to express with my voice
Expression is subjective
But my voice is absolute
There is a struggle between ego and truth
Ego is judgment, jealousy, envy, rage and hate
Truth is only love.
The rollercoaster cycle is inevitable
I choose to move through it with grace
And take lessons from it
It’s the natural cycle of things
Up, down, round, and round loop the loop
Then come back down
Then strait and still,
back to love, back to truth
My voice is absolute
I was a kid about eight years old
Went shopping with Mom downtown
The Duncan man’s in store I was told
Isle three, where yoyos are found
I had a yoyo I got somewhere
Could make it go up and down
I saw there was a crowd over there
Checked it out, here’s what I found
A man had kids watching his scene
Had a yoyo in each hand
Doing yoyo tricks I’d never seen
They called him the Duncan man
Duncan yoyos became such a hit
I begged Mom and she bought one
The yoyo string’s not tied at the end
Spins free, unlike my old one
I practiced till some talent unfurled
At most tricks I was able
Like “loop the loop” and “around the world”
“Walking the dog” and “rock the cradle”
Time moved on, put the yoyos away
Till my kids became that age
They asked Mom for a yoyo one day
Told her it was all the rage
Found my Duncan yoyos, bought new strings
My kids were outside at play
Started doing fancy tricks and things
Old Dad amazed them that day
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