A large, good-looking frog, whose name was Guy,
was sitting in a puddle.
He hoped a female frog would hop on by,
so they could cuddle.
With green, resplendent hide,
curvaceous legs and eyes protruding just
the right amount to see both far and wide,
he was robust.
And croaking added greatly to his act –
the phrasing was complex.
But no amount of song seemed to attract
the gentler sex.
Br’r Rabbit sensed Guy’s plight
and said, “Your puddle’s far too small, My Pet.
The girls don’t know you’re here. So do it right –
get on the Net!”
Guy’s YouTube video went well, beyond
his wildest expectation.
Then many froggie maidens found the pond –
cohabitation!
Moral
The frog-to-puddle scale applies
till now, to some degree.
But it’s the puddle’s virtual size
that is the key.
Mary E. Moore
Light
Fall-Winter 2008
I was reading the work of Nash, comma, Ogden
in a sporting goods store astride a toboggan.
A salesman inquired, “On a sled in July?
Is that something, perhaps, you are looking to buy?”
“Oh, no thanks,” I replied, “Not right at this time.”
Of course, I was there to acquire the rhyme.
I had come from an exploit the previous week,
when my fervor for verse was beginning to peak.
Then I claimed I was studying Ogden Nash
and had gone to the bank to sit on some cash.
The manager called for poetic-type justice
but police who arrived were simply disgustice.
Mary E. Moore
So where on earth could a missing sock go?
It was gone though the dryer seemed bare.
I peered way up high and felt way down low;
no stray was hidden there.
The thought crossed my mind it had joined with a pair
to form a ménage à trois,
but no sock of mine would dare an affair,
its upbringing far too bourgeois.
Perhaps
it had simply looked years ahead,
judged the future to be problematical,
and set off on foot to where the road led
determined to take a sockbatical.
Just how it had left and in what strange way
it returned, I find hard to write.
For it went undetected until that day
my mother-in-law stayed the night.
To make up her bed, we shook out a sheet,
then suffered a dreadful shock.
In the water glass where she’d placed her teeth,
ker-plop ... was the missing sock!
Mary E. Moore
Rhyme and Reason,
Neil H. McAlister, Ed., 2006
The HyperTexts
First of all he was a pygmy,
troubled by such borborygmi,
his wife would count each blurp and bleegmy,
instead of sheep,
so she could sleep.
He also suffered from the shakes
which caused the woman bellyaches,
for fear of losing with his quakes,
her finer
old china.
He ended up with halitosis
tolerable only in tiny doses,
certainly not in symbiosis.
She was forced
to get divorced.
Mary E. Moore
The HyperTexts
I
Famously, dameously
Susan B. Anthony
suffrage for womankind
stirring her blood
fought for a lifetime and
earned approbation. Her
dedicatorial
dollar? A dud.
II
Translator, landslator,
Native American:
Sacagawea, with
Lewis and Clark.
Superelaborate,
glittery-gold her coin,
unlike its namesake just
missing the mark.
III
Fifty-cents, nifty-cents:
President Kennedy’s
profile on currency
good from the go.
Probably, people thought
overabundantly
of his prestige not of
temptress Monroe.
Mary E. Moore
Umbrella Journal,
Spring 2007
I
Dreamily, streamily,
Freudian Symbol-speak:
wishes fulfilling in
brain waves complex.
Seemingly innocent,
phantasmagorical
images function as
stand-ins for sex.
II
Idously, hidously,
dipal Complexes
dictate that children will
covet their Mas.
Genitals urging so
ultraunconsciously,
sweet little kiddies would
kill off their Pas.
III
Slippery, dippery,
Psychopathology:
governing memory,
motive of wit,
overdetermining
accidents, slips of speech;
states many mishaps aren’t
chancy, one bit.
Mary E. Moore
Umbrella Journal,
Spring 2007
In English as Second Language class,
while quizzing students of mine,
I give an elderly Polish lady
“size” as a word to define.
At first, she doesn’t seem to react.
I’m afraid she’s completely at sea.
But then I see her features change
as if she’s found the key.
Pinching with index fingers and thumbs,
she plucks at the front of her dress,
pulling the fabric away from the spots
right where her nipples press.
Tugging straight out and holding that pose,
she seems to display a prize.
She smiles as if expecting applause
and announces, triumphantly, “SIZE”!
Mary E.Moore
The HyperTexts
Allotment –
the word
possesses
a powerful
placebo effect.
Maybe it’s only
small potatoes,
cookie crumbles
or drops
in the bucket.
But no one
aspiring to appease
would assert,
“This is your allittlement.”
Mary E. Moore
Forthcoming, Verbatim
Class action lawyers have it made;
Only one trial but by many paid.
Though injured parties may get a pittance,
Counsel's assured a handsome remittance.
Mary E. Moore
Heavenly Headquarters!
To assure quality, this call may be monitored.
For your convenience, we now have
automated listings from which you may choose.
Please listen carefully as our menu has been changed.
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Mary E. Moore
Merging Shadows
Community of Poets
Collection, Vol 7, 2008
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