Ro manse languages were once all the rage
But Mandarin's now taken center stage ~
Flankry, I can't stand it
The Chinese are bandits ~
It's rike leceiving kick in reft libcage
Trump asked, ‘Ms. Harris, How ‘bout the next dance?’
Ms. Harris agreed, as if in a trance
Her feet were so light
Trump swung her way right ~
And then she begged him to live in the Manse!
Have you seen the lady bug dance?
The lady bug dance?
The lady bug dance?
She has exotic moves, and she prances said Lance.
She pranced up and down the Baptist manse.
You have to be kidding; it is her last chance.
To dance her dance, but not at the manse!
It is crazy that the lady bug cannot contain her prance.
She is dancing down the street right now with Lance.
Come see them hop, swivel, twist and prance!
The Lady Bug Dance!
The Lady Bug Dance!
With sage hoot owl on his shoulder, the Jack-o-Lantern King
Scared off every goblin the haunted house could bring.
He gave them the wind, and the shutters popped and slammed.
The owl gave them an eerie hoot that scared the flimm and flamed.
There had been four squatters living in the King’s haunted manse.
Skeleton, witch. devil and pirate, who had electrified his fans.
They had been making supper when they got scared off down the lane.
The owl and the Jack-o-Lantern king enjoyed their fudgy sugar cane.
What do you think it was? The Pirate asked his comrades as they walked.
I have no idea, the witch said, but did you hear that terrifying squawk?
That popping gave me a headache, the devil said holding onto his crown.
The pirate said I do not know, but let’s not stick around.
The great outdoors affords the chance
to stretch my limbs, let down my guard,
put up a hammock in the yard.
In summertime to leave the manse
feels good with grass under bare toes.
Inhale the jasmine and the rose,
and savor sights of happenstance:
to spot a squirrel, croaking toad,
or doe and fawn crossing the road.
On mountaintops I do a dance
of triumph after a hard hike
and bask in breezes on my bike,
then waltz my bride in summer's trance
as strains of 'Blue Danube' tiptoe
through memories of long ago.
The great outdoors affords the chance
in summertime, to leave the manse
and savor sights of happenstance.
On mountaintops I do a dance
then waltz my bride in summer's trance.
Constanza
Created by Soup's own Connie Marcum Wong, a Constanza consists of 3-line stanzas of 8-syllable lines, where the first lines of each stanza are monorhymed and combined to form the final stanza. The remaining lines of each stanza are rhymed couplets.
Following gyres of life
one palpates
The level of disease
Psyche wrestles
In the palestra,
Ceremoniously, I’d say,
As if benediction would happen
Now, any day.
Invisible but with vigilance,
Let me hold or behold,
The ground and stance,
When you enter into my manse
Less hostile,
Rather stance with a smile.
Esteemed friend,
In my head,
Speaking to you,
The state of affair is
- So, so, so sad,
I’d like to prenotify
Of this concord, you,
While I am sane, slightly mad.
Blow the whistle,
I am starving
Of the good life,
On the edge
That’s being grind,
Or being carved
Out of my mind.
Dinosaurs look silly when they dance
Their tails make them hop and prance.
They wiggle their bottoms as slow as their ants
They look weird on top of a manse.
This is what says my cousin Nance,
They need lessons from guru from France.
I’m not being mean. Ask my Uncle Lance.
Dinosaurs look silly when they dance.
Forgiveness always welcomes every Chance!
She finds her way beneath the Cry and Hue*,
Her gentle eye ne’er looks at one askance…
To him, who Bumbles... asks her for a Dance,
She smiles, demure, but to her Love, stays True!
Forgiveness always welcomes every Chance!
To him, who flees, a thief, from far-off France,
She gives hiding… and cuts his bonds in two!
Her gentle eye ne’er looks at one askance…
To her, who lost her Treasures to Romance,
She bids her bid the miscreant, adieu!
Forgiveness always welcomes every Chance!
To her, who leaves her baby at the manse,
She helps and hopes, and starts her off anew!
Her gentle eye ne’er looks at one askance…
To all, who stumble blindly through the trance
That we call Life, without cloak, hat or shoe:
Forgiveness always welcomes every Chance!
Her gentle eye ne’er looks at one askance…
______________________
*’Cry and Hue’ is a Common Law practice requiring witnesses to help apprehend a criminal
There used to be a sandbox
Where some plantings are in bloom.
The germaphobes today
Would never use it, I assume.
But years ago I plopped my son
With shovel, pail and truck
In that sand where he would dig
And I could read, with any luck.
The benches formed a semi-circle
So the moms would sit
And enjoy some peace and quiet,
Even if for just a bit.
Though the playground had a sandbox,
This one by the mayor’s manse
Had no slide or swing distractions –
Just the river’s smooth expanse.
I look fondly on those hours
When my child played in the sand,
Something mothers of today most likely
Wouldn’t understand.
Barriers to buildings
Are familiar to us here.
Right after 9/11’s shock,
They started to appear.
But just this week I noticed
Something added to the stock –
At a stairway that I frequent
There’s a jumbo concrete block.
To be fair, the stairs are leading
To the mayor’s stately manse
So protection is important;
They’re not taking any chance.
Though I do not get the placement
Of this ugly concrete slab
For no vehicle could climb the stairs –
No car, no truck, no cab.
Some authority decided
To keep terrorists at bay,
They’d plop down a blob a concrete
And then all would be okay.
Tall iron gates
That mutter of authority
Beyond which lie fields
Barren and bleak
Fence of stone topped with
Crenellations of Ravens
Keeping watch with keen eyes
Above leaf shrouded creek
The manor of grey stone
That rears all alone
And lies atop
The rise…
The windows tight shuttered
Cause one to shudder
At their semblance
To moribund eyes
The long neglected lane
Now approaches in vain
The portico thru which
No one enters
Save spectres that scream
Silently…hauntingly and seem
As fleeting as wishes
…in a dream…
In cold melancholy the spirit sings,
As angels toss their darkened wings,
Grotesques upon yon pillared manse,
Awaken for this gruesome dance,
Fountains spout their molten flames,
Whispering forgotten names,
With furtive glance does Time evade,
Memories to dust doth fade,
And moonbeams shine on frozen glass.
A hollow gong of rusty brass
Chiming from the tower stark,
Nestling in the unbidden dark,
Where songs of joy and songs of hope
Vanquish'd in some gruesome stroke,
Resound in halls 'twere never built,
As oak and ash do groan and wilt,
For naught is true but falsities:
Shall this night ever come to be?
The night holds such gray, when beating wave and tortured sky compete
"Still round the corner there may wait, a new road or a secret gate."
Hammered from the surf or pounded from the shapes of the giants causeway
life will emerge while all eternity waits, the bright of sunlight to relate.
Abate the misery of colorless life, lost love and that which was so sweet
fill the empty rooms within the manse upon the tor, so now, incomplete
with the sound of childrens laughter and the rampant run of little feet.
Let loose the lock from gate which binds my love to death so indiscreet.
The looming form of barren rib and prow so sharps denies the rift of heaven
Its skeletal remains do not harken to the light nor St. Peter's prod
for my love, my life, my heart was lost amongst the waves thus broken
and will walk no more with me upon the sand or haunted sod.