INTERVAL 4: FOURS AND TWOS

Chris O’Carroll: Christmas With Dorothy P.

Cut the fruitcake! Pour the gin!
Men may be unreliable,
But ’tis the season for some sin!
The urge is undeniable.

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Julia Griffin: Mnemonic

No art historian of weight,
Nor psychoanalyst of worth,
Will muddle the Immaculate
Conception with the Virgin Birth.

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Damian Balassone: Sundays

Depression on a Sunday afternoon
ensues when thoughts of Monday come too soon.

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Daniel Galef: Modern Mages

From brains made out of silicon, not Brazen Heads, we learn.
We once sketched circles in the sand. Today, we’ve dug out CERN.

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Rob Barratt: Art History

(National newspapers reported a study
 which said that the Mona Lisa’s smile
 was due to a thyroid problem)

Though a thyroid gland may have had a hand
In the Mona Lisa’s grin, she
Was just supressing, (though I’m only guessing)
A fart from Leonardo da Vinci

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Tom Vaughan: Parties

Parties get better –
people don’t grope;
they talk to each other.
The dud ones smoke dope.

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Susan de Sola: Postlapsarian Giraffe

Although blessed in being tall,
They are doomed at birth to fall.

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Geoff Lander: Free Travel Advice

Hark! In the desert. A crunchety crunch
A scorpion scoffing a crickety lunch? Let him.

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L. A. Mereoie: Joint Strippers

Gladys worked with a girl from Odessa
As a crowd-pulling body-revealer,
Billed as Cardiff Bay’s Best Welsh Undresser
And Olga The Great Easy Peeler.

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Damian Balassone: Adolescence

Her days of flawless beauty
are gone without a trace;
the pimples of indulgence
explode across her face.

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James B. Nicola: When the sky’s so blue

When the sky’s so blue,
I can’t be, too!

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Melissa Balmain: Zoo Snafu

(For the friend I agreed to meet
" by the flamingo exhibit.")

But who knew
There were two?

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Chris O’Carroll: Christmas With Edna S.V.M.

We do not choose a silent night.
We’re more than just good friends.
When we set our Yule log alight,
We burn it at both ends.

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Paul Willis: Red Mountain Heather

(Phillodoce empetriformis)

Red mountain heather, in every weather
you supply your blush and bloom.
Your shy cover, like a lover,
makes the cirque a secret womb.

Red mountain heather flowers