Showing posts with label rhyme. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rhyme. Show all posts


Sammy’s less than perfect reputation

Avoid that lad named Sammy –
you've felt his hands – they're clammy.

Staying away from him makes triple sense
because he is also brutal and dense.

– Felix Morgenstern (© 2016)

Rhymed around clammy, brutal and dense from 3WW.


The Nosobeme

The nosobeme prances
on its quadruple nose.
Accompanying it dances
its child, also on four of those.

In Britannica it has no mention,
nor does it in Wikipedia.
It sprang from the invention
of my own private cyclopedia.

And thus the nosobeme does prance,
with child, as said before,
both doing their special dance
on noses galore.

– Felix Morgenstern (© 2012)

A rather free (and Internet-age) translation of Christian Morgenstern's poem Das Nasobem.


Animal witticism

So I say to my dog "sit!"
and he won't do it
but yawns

And I tell him
"So you think you've got wit?
But really

the only part of it
that you've got
is the nit."

– Felix Morgenstern (© 2012)

A much belated entry to Sunday Scribblings for wit.


Ode to the owner of an inkpot

Thank you, my love,
I forgive you not –
you gave me ink
in that old pot.
But on a cold day like this
it won’t make me hot.

– Felix Morgenstern (© 2011)

A demonstratively silly ditty upon instigation by One Single Impression.


In my backyard

In my backyard
I found a tart.

Says Jay, “Pray tell,
you might as well,

what will you do with it?”
“Whip cream, you nit,

put it on top
and eat the slop.”

– Felix Morgenstern (© 2011)

Written for Sunday Scribblings and My Backyard, this should easily compete with the silliest of Mother Goose.


Medical portrait

Now there's doctor L. the anthroposoph, (in)sincere and mature,
who'll ask what you are willing to suffer for cure.
And if you say 'not much'
he'll presribe allopathic stuff with a proven sledge hammer touch.
Whereas, if you're willing to endure,
he'll give you aurum or cuprum for good enure.

– Felix Morgenstern (© 2011)

Written upon inspiration by 'endure' from One Single Impression.


Holly, it’s folly

Oh what another winner hath landed Holly!
The best thing about him is that he’s jolly.
He ogles young women voraciously
and slurps his coffee rapaciously.
His looks betray that he’s five times your age,
dear Holly, and it takes no sage
to figure out
that he buys his clothes at McDowd.
Those thick, froggy-eyed specs
imply there won't be much sex.
In short, my angel, between you and me,
you are, as usual, barking up the wrong tree.

– Felix Morgenstern (© 2011)

Written for day 10 of NaPoWriMo.
Today, the idea was to “try to write a poem backwards. I don’t mean letter by letter, or word by word, but line by line. Start by writing out an old saying that takes the form of a declarative statement. Like “Birds of a feather flock together,” or “A miss is as good as a mile.” That will be the last line of your poem. The next line you write will be the second-to-last, and so on, until you reach the “beginning.” To help you keep your focus, let’s say that the poem has to be an address to someone or something that can’t answer back – a person who is absent, or an animal or inanimate object.”
I followed the rules ... well, more or less. I did indeed choose the final saying first. As to the rest, I kept writing new lines and rearranging them to such an extent that I no longer remember what initially was first, second, third, etc.
The address is definitely to someone who is absent – apart from the name, nothing is said about Holly, even though it's clear that she seems to have a serious case of bad judgement.


Malcolm writes

to avoid seeing Marjorie in person as her condition might be contagious:

“Yesterday you wrote in your letter
that you are sick and not feeling better.

I hope this reply with pickle and lime
will give you a much better time.

In the event that this does not work,
I advise you to go see that jerk

down the street who calls himself healer.
He’ll give you a paper for the dealer

of sweet mint-flavored pills
that for sure will cure all your ills.”

– Felix Morgenstern (© 2011)

Written for NaPoWriMo day 9 in response to this: “... today you are encouraged to write a nursery rhyme. 4 to 6 lines, 3-5 accented syllables per line (don’t worry about making them iambs or dactyls or what…as long as your lines are short), and of course, a rhyme or two.”


Love disenchanted

When pigs cease to fly
it’s time to say good-bye.

I’ve had enough of you
and all the times I’d woo

you with four leaves of clover.
See you when hell freezes over.

– Felix Morgenstern (© 2010)

Written specifically for Sunday Scribblings and When Pigs Fly / When Hell Freezes Over.

All the Morgenstern poetry (Felix and Christian) posted in this blog



Inner warning

The more that inner warning sign flashes
the more you’re attracted like a moth to the flame.
How many phoenixes do you want from the ashes?
Aren’t you getting tired of this destructive game?

– Felix Morgenstern (© 2008)

Missed the formal point again by presenting neither limerick nor haiku for Mad Kane’s This is a warning. Contentwise, however, I'm on target, I think.


Short ghazal honoring spam

I remember a time long ago when spam
was something one wouldn’t eat.

Since those good old days spam
has become something other than fatty meat.

Every day now I find loads of spam
in my mailbox. Oh what a treat!

– Felix Morgenstern (© 2008)

Written in response to Mad Kane's Email Hell invitation for limericks and haikus about that lovely new age scourge – spam. Well, I have to sheepishly admit that I neither have limerick nor haiku to offer but something more similar to a very short ghazal.


Invitation to kiss a prince

Here I sit gathering moss.
Come on girls, don’t be at a loss:
Bring the prince salvation,
release him from ancient damnation.
One little kiss is all it takes –
your life from now on will be champagne and cakes.

– Felix Morgenstern (© 2008)

Totally Optional Prompts is all about transformation – just like this picture and text accompaniment.


Blessed ignorance

I wish I weren’t so ignorant!
Then I would know lots more.

I might possibly be less arrogant,
knowing what and what not to ignore.

– Felix Morgenstern (© 2008)

Written for BlogFriday, where the weekly word is ignorant.


Ode to one who loves her sleep

Do not tamper with my temper,
she said,
never wake me up
when I’m asleep in bed.

Men a lot braver than you
have tried,
with the result
that I had their hide.

My temper when wakened is like
the wrath of a god,
it scathes, it burns,
it kills at a wink and a nod.

The wounds I inflict
with my nails run deep.
Therefore do not, I repeat,
wake me up when I sleep.

– Felix Morgenstern (© 2008)

Once again I could not resist a prompt from Mad Kane, this time for temper, temper.

Click here for the Morgensterns' collected literary crimes in English and German.


About my favorite color

My favorite color is red;
on chilly nights I wear
red socks in bed.

When it gets warm outside,
I take my bike out
for a ride.

Its color, as you might have
guessed, is red
cause that’s the best.

Red also rhymes
with daily bread;
it’s what we pray for
and what keeps us fed.

My grandpa’s car is red,
and what a life that man
has led!

In winter red is very good
because it is on
Santa’s hood.

Some roses are red,
and those are said
to best impart
the love in one’s heart.

To make my color poem full:
please do not wave
red at a bull.

– Felix Morgenstern (© 2008)

Posted for Colorful Poetry at The Miss Rumphius Effect and Color at One Single Impression.