Wednesday, 26 October 2011

Kinky Boots - a Lipogram

Andy over at challenged me to write a lipogram about the fall of the Roman Empire without using the letter U. An impossible task. That was until I found out that some historians consider the fall of Constantinople in 1453 to be the final death rattle for the Roman Empire. When I unearthed the story of Emperor Constantine's purple boots, I knew I'd found my poem.

Kinky Boots - The Last Roman Emperor

A snappy dresser,Constantine,
always down with the latest trends.
Battleward in lilac robes.
A fashionista right till the end.

Sieges didn't stop his flare
for weaving feathers in his hair.
Nor did raging, warring Ottomen
stop him wearing diamonds and pearls like Sophia Loren.

A snappy dresser, Constantine,
defended Constantinople.
Stood by his men in times of strife
wearing chain-mail carved from opals.

 And when, at last, his Empire fell,
Conny let forth an ear-splitting yell:
"Come on lads, let's get the twats
who got blood on my vintage trilby hat."

The snappiest dresser, Constantine,

never strayed far from his pavonine roots.
Soon the Marble Emperor of violet will wake once more,
as patron saint of kinky boots.

Monday, 17 October 2011

A Family of Astronauts - Lipogram

A lipogram is a type of constrained poem in which a letter or a group of letters are deliberately omitted. This is a lipogram written without using the letter E.

A family of Astronauts

My pain is still raw.
                           That night -
half-hungry, half-mad and full
of longing - I watch your sky for
signs of stars. That night I saw
four. Stars for all of us. Gold
insignia marks you out for him
                         in photographs.

(Don't do anything drastic.)

Mostly, I am happy.
                                But that night
I saw your ghost crawl fitfully along
his brow; an ugly torpidity of past
scars. And you, a youth who ran hard
and fast and lost his way among cold
lights of stars. I am not hurt,
                                         not now.

(Don't do anything drastic.)

I am almost happy. But,
                                    I saw him
look at your photographs with warm
admiration again. I will not allow our
son follow you, chasing shadows to
distant lands for King and Country.
No gold insignia. I will not put on a
                             black shroud again.

Sunday, 16 October 2011

Shaving Grace

You've asked me six times now, I assure you I'm certain,
that I will not wax the hair off my fuzzy love curtains.
While you might enjoy the plucked chicken look
I'd rather not get razor rash on my intimate nook.
I like my crotch-blossom and no matter what you say,
my short and curlies have not out-lived their stay!
My map of Tasmania will not be deforested,
and if you come near with Immac I'll have you arrested!
What's wrong with you? Have you only seen women in porn?
This is one meaty pocket that will not be shorn.
You resistance on this issue leaves very little scope for me
so I'll just flatly refuse to indulge in any pubic topiary.
No landing strip or Brazilian - my lady garden unweeded -
I might even buy extensions if my words are not heeded.
I'm a mammal not a mollusc, let me stay hairy!
Surely the twelve-year-old girl look is a little bit scary?
If we can't come to a compromise our sex life can't be saved
(and by compromise I mean that I'm not getting shaved!)

Tuesday, 11 October 2011

Eve - A Univocalism

A univocalism is a poem that contains only one vowel. This is my first attempt at one of these, and I've only used the vowel E. Let me know what you think, and see if you can spot any cheeky a, i, o or u that might have crept in!


Present tense.
Seven twenty seven PM.

Eve enters between beech trees.
Dressed decently:
red tweed dress,
her emergency dress.

Nerves peck her neck:
needles, nettles.
Pete, defenceless, smells mercy.

Serves entrée.
Entente held.

Then Eve sneers.
She tells Pete he's been left.
'Jeff resembles Derek Hess,' she tells Pete,
'Nevertheless, Jeff's better.'

Perplexed, Pete begs Eve.
Eve leers, rejects Pete.
'Jeff!' She trembles, 'He's three men!'


Pete's strength left.
Rejected, he
requests the cheque.

Eve sends Pete letters.
Eleventh September:
Eve's just desserts.