Set off by the smallest sip,
feed me what I want.
A rushed drip.
Luminous shade of darkness,
taste it on my lips.
Blown sadness.
Maneuvering souls like pawns
such a rapscallion,
selling bronze.
I’m struck by your glow,
fierce mellow.
Freely admit am more than a bit of a Test cricket junkie
VIP pass doff for punky class of Bazball’s start so spunky
Revel in rocking devil may care peacocking flair so funky
But when stuttered became rather cluttered and clunky
Then Ben not with his men again is still a cheeky monkey
Iffy getting squiffy forgot curfew & in a jiffy all got gunky
Palaver in a lather farce of toff ECB job & gob of slob Key
Smelt wrong the pong not dope has felt old school skunky
Hunky stallion did quaff the trough now rapscallion donkey
Scoff not bob on plunky fob off dob em in for being a flunky
Got a cob on Baz a show off ar*e & Rob chubby and chunky
Sob should burn on the hob as each other’s jail bit*h bunkie
Turn the door k*ob in lob Baz & Bob then Ben lose the key
Awe & shock bowlers in the dock our warlock & glock “the judge”
Rapscallion and stallion wrangling with dangling golden medallion
Facing the pacing battalion on our latest sinking Caribbean galleon
Our burly oracle with each follicle so curly a rock that won't budge
In that 90’s dungeon Robin our classy curmudgeon brassy bludgeon
Truncheon fine dining on a hurly burly Courtenay & Curtly luncheon
Calms alarms and qualms delivers us from harm with stoic heroic psalms
Call to arms more like baobabs than palms those offside charms “the Judge”
Speedsters scary & lairy others wary prime time for our hairy chest fairy
Robin our pace Pontiff willow ace not a whiff or a riff or sniff of what if
Believers in his jobbing levers will go biff in any tiff that's the pith of Smith
Not just a county squire but quite possibly the ultimate Hampshire Sire
Calling card hit it so hard earned the fable label of both BATman & Robin
Hall of fame name can’t smudge hats doff to a complete one off “the Judge”
Do you think there was a Robin Hood,
and, if so, was he good -
or just a bad rapscallion
on a jet-black stallion?
And after this, to me, you've told,
tell me, do you have much gold?
At the risk of coming off turgid
I offer this tale esoteric
Hoping it’s not found insipid
Nor causes one to be apoplectic
But rather received with alacrity
Without the need for paroxysm
My word there’ll be no chicanery
And avoidance of anachronism
Far from being sesquipedalian
Nor need for any razzmatazz
The tale of the slubberdegullion
Who thought himself full with pizzazz
Though being so supercilious
His affect stirred only dudgeon
Any good was so very fugacious
From this untoward tatterdemalion
Yet still he persisted a mumpsimus
If you will, and worse a panjandrum
So aggravating and rumbustious
Redeeming qualities not a modicum
An unquestioned snollygoster
Given to being quite vagary
An ill-reputed hugger-mugger
And a voice of such cacophony
But I see that you are insouciant
And consider my warning malarkey
Since you wish to be recalcitrant
My apologies for being persnickety
I end my tale of the rapscallion
Without further ado or rigmarole
Avoiding becoming ultracrepidarian
I have met my supererogatory parole
Rascal the rapscallion was a slyboots rogue
he fancied himself a pixie, spoke Irish brogue
we suspected he was a leprechaun hiding gold
he lived in Skeezicks Forest, Celtic land of old
It was one of those nights that a rapscallion would swoon
our pirate ship glided almost silently by the light of the moon
we were stealthily advancing on a world we did not know
They would experience our cutthroat ways before we would go
I hear they have women my bunkmate whispered to me
What would this scallywag know? He was merely twenty-three.
I hear they are pretty whispered a lad on the other side
I rolled my eyes; when we got there, where would they hide?
They were not true pirates, they did not understand.
They were bold, loud, young and foolish, not part of our band.
I was irritated with our leader for letting them get on board.
While I was thinking this, one of them loudly snored.
For over thirty years we had sneaked into this marvelous cove.
We had stolen their best things, I swear this, by jove!
But on this trip these young ones ruined everything by being loud.
We barely escaped with your lives from the hostile island crowd.
Idlers, paved paths with active energies, purloining, feigning amity.
Dodgy & concealing past immoral dregs by comradely, waspish mien.
Obdurately empowered by this stranger plucked from their nocturnal fantasies
Wanton mistresses of countless broken walls in desperation for time.
Unbridled intrusion cloaked in religiosity vexed by undefined arrogance.
Oft, in pretext, manipulating, with energies stronger than the POPE.
Habits of a thuggish intervention foist on bewitched “soul tie”
Ill-beseeming nuances summoning this Stygian to their unsealed brothels
Obvious cliquish vindictive venom of a barrage of past bed felon.
Zestfully compelling, violently intrusive and surreptitiously preying.
Ending the farce, Rapscallion oozing countless entries on the rotten hole.
That rapscallion wears the most handsome boots.
When he aims he kills whatever he shoots.
Wears a blue mask.
Brings his own flask.
Millionaire from items he loots.
The prison is locked in, forlorn and deep
But he has promises to keep
Tormented with nightmares, he never sleeps
Revenge is a promise, a man should keep
He rises from his cursed bed
With thoughts of exodus in his head
A flash of rage, and he sees red
Without a hesitate
He broke and fled
Gambling over deadly high gate
A resentful rapscallion once trapped in
Whilst now fleeing --the fenced coffin
PARTY IMITATION
boy watches
birthday video
oh spouse! oh brother!
two bro-in-laws, and
dear old dad, a full
living color gift
dance to the tune:
YMCA
i know y’all can hear it
in your head.
their hands form each letter
“Y” “M” “C” “A”
shirts shimmy
up the tummy
red-headed rapscallion
two year old toddler
smirks
from the other side
of the camera
up goes his shirt
5/19/2017
Toy Ukele not a Bellowing Bugle
What it certainly surely seemed like to me
Trump thinks he's a character cute as can be
And if of him you had a herd or battalion
Probably would appear as if a rapscallion.
Only thing to do that he feels compelling
Is, of course, the truth never be telling
Also latest thing all of us recently found
He enjoys bouncing big numbers around.
What will he want to please us with today?
Completely ridiculous what all he did say
Heard something about him that was swell
Bible he brought with him is from his hotel.
Then we really liked at him with a scowl
When all he wore was a Trump Hotel towel
And from of course we knew where it came
In many places bright towel bore his name.
He even had brought us towels by the batch
And just like his fair hair they all did match
Also we could tell he had been being frugal
Bought toy ukulele with him instead of bugle.
We were told that wherever he would go
He was sure to put on a really big show
What we wish he would have done instead
Be lead by Ed Sullivan but he is now dead.
Ho Ho.
Jim Horn
Episcopalian Even If Italian
When we let leaves fall and hit bottom
Approaching and here is finally autumn
If want something to be highly rated
Must take care of and keep updated.
(Like our parish roster)
For you to find out what it is you need
About your salvation to church stampede
As needs and wants for God increased
And not deceased seek your parish priest.
But what if lost and have not been found
Will be safe and sound with God around
Seek a great sermon with proper texture
Listen to local priest who likes to lecture.
When Christ is He who you should cherish
Plan on attending church at your parish
Rather than being dilly dallying rapscallion
Try to be an Episcopalian even if Italian.
(A few of our parish members just
happen to be so I am starting to see.)
James Smiling Beguiling Horn
Retired Veteran, Eloquent Episcopalian
and write of great poems have been told
even though I am greatly growing old
A rapscallion
Pit Peterson
A sine qua non
Of Village Hay
A Quid pro quo
A Squid or roe
For Aeneid Poe
Of pillaged Bay
Old king’s granny was Fitzgerald’s nanny
She found him in every nook and cranny
Fritz- Fitzgerald’s dog
A rapscallion rogue
Went straight to the king and cried out "zany"
granny/Limerick/ (C) Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty 21 November 2014
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