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Maurice Rigoler Poem
A burial, if you’ll pardon
my irreverent
though jocular pun
is truly a groundbreaking event.
Copyright © Maurice Rigoler | Year Posted 2025
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Maurice Rigoler Poem
I had a dream the other night
that had me smiling with delight:
A couple with their backs to me
were taking vows of holy matrimony.
My delight turned to suspicion, for lo!
for the minister presiding was Waldo
Emerson? Then the couple in solemn tone
said “I do” pledging their love to each alone,
as they turned to face the congregation
applauding with joyous acclamation.
That’s when I recognized the bride
as none other than Amheart’s pride
Emily Dickinson, the eccentric
poet-spinster, the groom the pseudo rustic
Henry David Thoreau, of Walden Pond!
But even the best of unions are not beyond
the paranormal. And when he took her
to his self-built “mansion”,on seeing it
she grew pale and pleaded loudly in a fit:
Take me back to my father’s house this night
there’ll be no wild nights in this shack tonight!
Copyright © Maurice Rigoler | Year Posted 2025
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Maurice Rigoler Poem
Recently my nutritionist – a health
freak if ever there was one – suggested
I eat raw vegetables like cabbage, kale,
asparagus, brussel sprouts, cauliflower
and broccoli, all of the cruciferous family,
all packed with vital antioxidants,
vitamins, minerals, phytochemicals
and fibre, (relieving weekly straining
bouts of constipation.) As for results
he assured me with an assured smile
I’d be stronger and feel years younger,
though vouched cautiously I could expect
a few typical but minor side-effects,
but easily adjusted to, notably when
spring sets in and my ears grow like spires
and to everyone’s amazement I start
hopping about, my libido supercharged
after years of living celibate! – And as
he sees me out with an aside and wink
he says: You'd do well to forewarn the wife.
Copyright © Maurice Rigoler | Year Posted 2025
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Maurice Rigoler Poem
If there’s one bold public offense
few people are likely to countenance
with a welcomed tolerance
or neutral facial appearance
and guarantees a consequence
of a sudden public disturbance,
it’s letting loose a bout of stench
(politely known as flatulence)
cowardly released in silence
in a crowd compactly dense
with noses sniffing vengeance
on the culprit’s loutish impudence
his/her face masked in innocense!
Copyright © Maurice Rigoler | Year Posted 2025
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Maurice Rigoler Poem
I never thought it a crime
to write a poem without rime.
Far worse in my eyes
I would have thought
is to plagiarize –
unless it’s getting caught
and serving time.
Copyright © Maurice Rigoler | Year Posted 2025
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Maurice Rigoler Poem
For Ilene Bauer
You’ll never hear a pangolin
play the violin or mandolin
for no pangolin is musical.
though the pangolin relies
on arpeggios of scales
unheard but hard as nails
to ward off hungry enemies –
a major key in its survival.
(P.S. One of its distinctions
is its meat tastes like chicken.
It's other, its scales used as medicine.
And if continued to be eaten
will sadly face extinction.)
Copyright © Maurice Rigoler | Year Posted 2025
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Maurice Rigoler Poem
Repugnant, Indignant, Truculent –
tell a lady she looks older than her age
and you’ll get an expert demonstration
on how these words get proper usage.
Copyright © Maurice Rigoler | Year Posted 2025
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Maurice Rigoler Poem
It’s no accident that dentists,
grave diggers and proctologists
all share one thing in common:
filling holes, teeth, and an occasional bottom.
Copyright © Maurice Rigoler | Year Posted 2025
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Maurice Rigoler Poem
This year for an anniversary gift
I gave my wife, with no little courage,
a check for a permanent facelift.
Exploding in rage and shouting,
she said a check was insulting,
her voice muffled in her cleavage.
Copyright © Maurice Rigoler | Year Posted 2025
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Maurice Rigoler Poem
In old New England cemeteries
weather-worn slate markers hold
each name with tenacity
while the teeth of time slowly grind
each letter until its name disappears
as if it had been no more than
a frozen breath of frost etched
on a sunlit window pane.
Copyright © Maurice Rigoler | Year Posted 2025
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