Few are truly ecumenical in their tastes; most of us have our favored corners. My delight comes mostly from light verse, or poetry that was written before 1950. Not that the particular year is important, but I revert to a time before the confessionalists and post modernists, when poets were a little more reserved and when meter and rhyme still were thought to be worth the effort. So, here are the efforts of an unabashed “rhymer” on a set of projects ranging through, art, politics and science (plus a little personal history).
ORANGE ROUGHY
If Trump were a fish, I think he would be an Orange Roughy
Surrounded by his generals,
he talks just like a toughie—
but he’s no shark or swordfish just
a little Orange Roughy.
His genus is the slimehead and,
if that is not enough-y
he otherwise will answer as
a little Orange Roughy.
Ruddy in his face and fin,
the face a little puffy—
but ‘tis la fin, we’re waiting for,
of this Orange Roughy.
If minnows fail to follow then
he gets a little huffy,
and they will get a tweet storm from
this brittle Orange Roughy.
Now we have more than had our fill
of Trumpetfish Étouffée.
Let’s dish this piscine president,
this little Orange Roughy.
SCHOOL UNIFORM
I remember those grey flannel trousers,
short pants with a button-up fly;
I remember grey shirts (and girls’ blouses)
and a permanent knot in my tie.
My mother bought grey flannel trousers
at a second-hand place in the town,
where folk from those grey terraced houses
bought kecks for a measly half-crown. [1], [2]
Only in fullness of time could
technology make us quite hip,
when every new pairing of pants would
have buttons replaced by a zip.
Despite all our gripes and our grouses,
this fashion passed some of us by,
for those who had second-hand trousers
still had a button-up fly.
Now those without lamb do with mutton ̶
my friends all had pants with a zip,
while I had to fumble a button,
my better-off mates let it rip.
I remember when Dad got his job back,
I remember the glorious trip,
I remember that wonderful gob-smack, [3]
when Mum bought me pants with a zip.
Notes:
[1] Oh the prejudice language arouses
for my generation and sex,
of course we would never say trousers,
we only wore pants or wore kecks.
[2] Half a crown was ⅛ of a pound in the old British currency.
[3] Gob-smack is British slang for a big surprise.