The King
The king was quite old, but not senile,
And his problems with sex were not penile.
He could rut with the best,
When put to the test,
And got plenty of rest in between while.
The Queen
The queen wanted Sir Bruce for her lover,
But said knight had his sights on another.
She became unenamored,
When she caught him unarmored,
And in bed with Sir Frederick, her brother.
The Prince
The crown prince of a country in Asia
Loved a commoner named Anastasia.
When his parents demurred,
He said, "Don't be absurd",
And promptly employed euthanasia.
The Princess
The queen's plot was more than merely a jest,
But still Princess Winifred proved she was the best
When that small pea-sized lump
Left a dent in her rump
And allowed her to pass the "sensitivity" test.
The Duke
The Duke of Milan was an arrogant man,
Pugnacious, mendacious, and vain.
He was also a mess
For he loved to cross-dress
In ruffles and bustles and trains.
Categories:
oblige, humor,
Form: Limerick
Painstaking plumes of surest gait
To wield diamond steel over fate;
With slow pair of wit-guarded lips,
As otiose words sway great ships.
Invincible flair and exacting knack
To stand out from the frothy pack;
Ochred with all blue-penciled skill,
For nabob’s dimwits do mimic still.
With the far-scanning aquiline eye
That fowls unborn miles like a spy;
Plus an ear for tiniest voices tuned,
For idlest vowel by vagaries ruined.
Gigantic empathy for pinched souls
Hewn down by lot’s inclement fouls;
Felt tear for fellow wayfarers stung
By blunt luck's blade rashly swung.
A little but constant sacrifice betimes,
For bereft chum eschewed by dimes;
Or even total strangers in want of bail
Out of a jinx along existence’s icy sail.
Categories:
oblige, allegory, anxiety, blessing, care,
Form: Didactic
Fate looks weary,
Dark and dreary
As old year fades
In heavy shade.
Peace of mind calms,
In breezy balm
Watch wind-blown hair
Conjure new flair.
Baby makes five,
As quest moves jive
Of monkey mind
That captures find.
In-between time,
A dash moves chimes
As dazzling noise
Flings ample voice.
In a sure fling,
New Year's Day strings
Curious wonder
In brief ponder.
We oblige peace,
Glimpse a mad ease
Stay on the way
To meet this day.
Now party mood,
Gains steady good
In lavish touch
As noise frames such.
Here style greets smiles,
Toast to grand piles
As new year brings
More happy flings.
In secret heart,
Soul channels start
Of sanguine stuff
More than enough.
Love anchors peace,
In a crisp lease
Hope makes faith walk
A lively talk.
Live in the light,
Love sparkles bright
A fragrant feel
As touch now heals.
Leon Enriquez
31 December 2018
Singapore
Categories:
oblige, blessing,
Form: Quatrain
Old Jackster's been bad, so what is new
Been naughty since way back when
Really not ashamed to admit it though
Kinda proud how I did it back then
Girls all clamoured for more, more, more
Was only too happy to oblige
Not long after the preliminaries were over
I immediately hit my stride
Ride 'em cowboy screaming like a banshee
Those were the days of my youth
Now all I can do is scream like a banshee
The sexual part has gone poof
Still works okay when I dream at night
Been a while since I was a cub
They say the seventies are the golden years
I'd rather be that handsome young stud
© Jack Ellison 2014
Categories:
oblige, youth,
Form: Quatrain
Bated young as if moth,
our rushlight engrossing as inferno,
to minds untaught of hell.
As hell itself to learned folk,
cursed with mystic beginnings,
drowned deep within their well.
Before the airy days of care,
can gently ease them in,
to the world as sheer as veil.
We bury deep insecurities,
in soil that we are oblige to love,
and scorch the earth in ways that time will only tell.
Categories:
oblige,
Form: Epic
The old King took to the battle
and leapt into the fencers fray.
“Noblesse oblige” his cronies cry.
“Our King will save the day!”
He was a bull to their gazelle
nae a fair fight, nae by half;
he'd fight just to see the thralls fall
he ‘d pierce those peacocks for a laugh!
His continence was so fearsome.
His two burly arms a rare threat.
Some would nae fight His Majesty
nor fight of his knightly get.
“How is this fair?” the Lord’s lament.
How well met can these odd match be?
“Unless, of course, ‘twas nae ‘bout fair
this was nae called noblesse oblige!
In heavy plate with blade and pole
with broadsword, He’d bested the field;
so, as the fencers broached this game
the wiser lads all chose to yield.
They would nae raise a blade to him
nor would they save for him a dance;
many a brave man whispered there
and the bolder looked on askance.
“Let Him have the day! We’ll nae play
Noblesse oblige, my fine backsides!”
And, so the fancy fencers fell
like pretty harp seals on the tide.
There are many a way to win
and sure, many a way to loose.
Yet ‘tis the metal of the man
shows in the way that he chooses.
Categories:
oblige, allegory, history, introspection
Form: Rhyme