More lines for those who don't always take their poetry too seriously.
For reasons (sort of) explained on Light Verse I, these lines were originally on the same page, but had to be split.
Firstly, for those who are old enough to remember David Attenborough entering into the spirit of the gorilla's mating ritual, there is TRIALS OF WIFE. Then for those who would prefer a different sort of ritual, there is GOTHIC ROMANCE. For the more cynically minded, there is FRED FASTBUCK'S SCHOOL OF WRITING, which had the temerity to be a runner-up (puff-puff) in the VER Poets Competition. Obviously judges aren't what they used to be. And finally (as they say), there is IS RHYME A CRIME?. This was also a competition entry. It was entered under what must be a serious contender for the title of most cringeworthy nom-de-plume ever: The Right Hon Guisard Fortue-Voyces.
TRIALS OF WIFE
David Attenborough taught me a lot; Did you see those elephants on the TV, What of that sea-lion, mad as a hatter? And in her web the lady spider As for the wolves, Mr. and Mrs., So now then David, over to you, GOTHIC ROMANCE
I once went out to shoot a bat Dusk was falling in Old Carpathia But things aren't always what they seem: FRED FASTBUCK'S SCHOOL OF WRITING
Death to all adjectives, Don't tax the concentration span Market research is good for your purse, Get your foot in the editor's door IS RHYME A CRIME?
Judge: Defendant: Judge: Defendant: Judge: Defendant (sing-songily): Judge: Defendant (To Audience): Judge: Defendant: Judge: Defendant: Judge: Defendant (Murmuring): Lighten Up Online
of what I have, and what I have not.
I once thought that ours was the only way;
not now I've seen his wildlife at play.
with those great long things where their tails ought to be?
Another trunk I thought it was, first:
I fell off my chair when they told me the worst.
(And I always thought they said size didn't matter).
This lumbering creature might not have much grace,
but no-one kicks sand in a sea-lion's face.
can't wait to get her mate inside her.
Little spider says big girls are best,
but is he thinking of jaws or breast?
a fine state of affairs I tell you, this is.
It's one thing to be caught in a loving embrace,
but why can't they do it face to face?
won't you tell us, honest and true,
in a way that will cheer us, a way that will thrill us,
just what were you doing with all those gorillas?
with a black-robed Goth, in Transylvania
(true story this, and that's a fact;
happened while I was in Romania).
as we waited arrival of species Chiroptera.
The Goth stood there in full regalia
and I wondered if I'd made some error.
the Goth was a disciple of Vegetaria,
and if shooting bats sounds like a dream
the truth was that we used a camera.
that's where success lives,
short sentences, ten words, no more.
or you will be an also-ran.
Have you heard all this before?
even if your writing's indifferent or worse.
That's not the important part.
or else you'll only end up poor.
And never mind your bloody art.
For two voices.
What is your name?
My name is Mary Terkle.
Now tell me your game.
I'm Chairman of our Writers' Circle.
Where were you on Friday last?
Where I've been most Fridays past:
In a writers' workshop, busy writing.
I always find it so exciting.
Would you like to read your work?
That's a task I never shirk.
We are of the Writers' Circle:
Vera, John, and Mary Terkle.
We like to make our poems rhyme;
we like to do that all the time.
Our favourite is the rhyméd couplet;
we're trying hard to find a rhyme for THET-
Stop! I've heard enough,
of untruth, and this rhyming stuff.
I know your name's not Mary Terkle:
you just had to find a rhyme for circle.
your name's June Moon, with a murky past...
Oh my goodness! Found out at last!
You may as well confess it all
or else you'll never leave this hall.
It's true: I'm guilty of the terrible crime
of sacrificing poetry on the high altar of rhyme.
Now, leave the stand in humiliation.
Please take nine hundred other rhymes into consideration.
Light Verse I
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