Category Archives: This, that & the Other

How to get from Bard to Verse

How to get from Bard to Verse

Think it, ink it, link it – grow it ,
Write it, cite it, reap it – sow it,
Re-verse it, rehearse it, re-peat it – re-rig it,
Re-do it, renew it, revise it – re-jig it.
Spoof it, proof it, return it – reject it,
Inspect it, correct it, select it – respect it.

Rhyme it, mime it; time it – pace it;
Fuse it, blues it, – drum & bass it;
Parse it, class it, rock it – roll it,
Push it, pull it, jazz it – soul it.

Waltz it, schmalz it, hip it – hop it;
R & B it – body-pop it,
Trance it, Dance it – doh-see-doh it;
Funk it, punk it – Status Quo it.

Talk it, walk it, see it – view it,
Hear it, say it, bite it – chew it,
Stroke it, folk it, say it – do it;
Rap it, tap it – I love you it.

Advertise it – spot promote it;
Merchandise it (if you wrote it) –
Type it, hype it, pimp it – play it,
Tell it, sell it: Hello and OK! it.

Get it, flaunt it, catch it – throw it;
Shout it, tout it – quid pro quo it;
Jam it, spam it, know it, show it:
Slam it: damn it –
You’re a poet!

© Theresa van Straten 2005 All Rights Reserved

 

Politically Correct Poem

Politically Correct Poem

It isn’t right to man the deck,
(Less still, to deck the man);
You cannot nurs’ry rhyme a sheep:
(Bar-bar-ity is banned);
And in the House of Commoners,
They’ve ruled it wrong to write –
So you must not read this poem,
‘Cause it’s down in black and white.

 

© Theresa van Straten 2005 All Rights Reserved

 

On the Game

On the Game

I linger on the corners:
Just staring at the grass;
When I’m in luck, I get a ruck –
If someone makes a pass.

I like a good, hard tackle –
Am partial to a maul:
And when on top, I use a Prop
To grasp an odd-shaped ball.

But, ‘though I may be Forward;
The ball’s gone out of touch:
And an attempt to score would
Not lead up to much.

I am an ageing hooker,
And that’s what makes me cry:
For in my youth, I played the field,
But now,
I never
try.

© Theresa van Straten 2005 All Rights Reserved

 

Pope Idol

It’s the show with the flow from the man in the know,
And it’s ho-lier than thou;
It’s fantastic, it’s bombastic – it’s totally Pope-tastic,
It’s crucial – and it’s on right now!
No time to joke: ’cause it’s holy smoke,
When they’ve sorted out the goody from the baddy,
Later in the day, when the senate’s had its say:
We’ll reveal who’s the Holy Daddy!

It’s pristine; it’s Sistine – so I’m gonna keep it clean,
For the Rome boys and the home-boys in the place;
The backdrop’s old and classy: gold and fresco – strictly R.C.;
So let’s commence proceedings, saying Grace.
We’ll have a righteous rave, sitting down in the conclave
To view the cardinals pontiff-icating:
It gets heated in the Chapel, but there’s never been a grapple –
Though we know there is a lot of mass debating.

First up, let’s meet with Dario: a Cardinal and Deacon –
He says, “Give me a sign” as he begins to get his freak on;
Simon says, “Just hit him if he says it one more time;
Zero talent, zero style – and his Latin doesn’t rhyme”.

Now give it up for Joseph: He was John Paul’s bezzie mate –
He’s a German with a sermon and it’s said that he is great;
Simon says: “He’s definitely on the road to heaven –
Joe is no spring chicken: he is seventy – plus seven!”

Alfonso of Columbia comes in at sixty-nine,
He’s a Bish’ with a wish to be the big fish – declared to be divine;
But Simon says of Fonzie: “He’s wooden as a plank –
For all his so-called smells and bells, I think he really stank.”

‘Count’ Christoph is just sixty – he’s a Cardinal and Priest;
An Austrian archbishop, who can dish up quite a feast
Of liturgy and sacrament, but Simon says “Dear me,
If Plan A’s being ‘Pope Star’, I hope you’ve got Plan B.”

So who’ll be our Pope Idol: Light the fire, for Heaven’s sake!
Fonz, Dario – or Chris, or Joe? Find out –
after the break. . .

 

© Theresa van Straten 2005 All Rights Reserved