Jerome Betts: Knights Of The Voting Pencil
It was hail to PM Sir Keir Starmer,
A grafter, not grifter or charmer,
And a farewell to Rishi
Who was washy and wishy
But gracious confronting his karma.
Sir Ed Davey, whose dare-devil feats
Had attracted some critical bleats,
Was pleased bungee-jumping
Preceded a thumping
Rise in numbers of new Lib Dem seats.
⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎
Bruce Bennett: Whodunnits
Whodunnits will catch on, then hold
Your whole being. They don’t leave you cold.
The killer’s not clear,
And may lurk quite near
While clues are held on to, then doled
Out in ways that deceive and mislead.
You won’t get that help you most need
Until, in that dark,
Behold! There’s a spark!
And then, all at once, up to speed
You grasp and you know! It’s a thrill
You cannot resist, since you will
Take that plunge once again,
Never mind where and when,
And to Hell with that time that you kill.
⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎
Gwen Seabourne: Some Time Before
The Divorce Announcement
Didn't see, on the day you appeared
All new smile, fake white and veneered,
You'd constructively gone,
Made your plan to move on,
Just felt pity that you looked so weird.
⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎
L. A. Mereoie: The Precautionary Principle
Asked to shoot by the firm’s CEO
Hector knew he could hardly say no
But warned his poor aim
Threatened more than just game
Bespoke tweeds Kevlar-lined top to toe.
⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎
Kevin Saving: Not A Happy Medium
My exorcist friend has confessed
That he now lacks the spirit to best
An intransigent ghost.
He’s abandoned his post
And is having his home repossessed!
⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎
Janice Canerdy: Short Sight in the Produce Section
Bob got slapped while out shopping for fruit.
A young woman exclaimed “You old coot!
What a cheek! What a nerve!”
He said, “I don’t deserve
This at all . . . those aren’t melons? Oh, shoot!”
⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎
Rumi Morkin: Ballet Calculations
The audience will call out: “Encore!”
Seeing dancers in tutus galore,
They can count on success
In such frilly undress
Adding up to what tutus are for.
⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎
L. .A. Mereoie: Water Canine
Though camouflaged down to his boots
With foliage, bark, and green shoots
A poacher said “Blast!’
When a gundog who passed
Cocked his leg and discharged at his roots.
⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎ ⸎
Mike Mesterton-Gibbons: Plato
(A newly deciphered ancient scroll reveals
that Plato criticised the Thracian slave girl
playing the flute by his deathbed for her
lack of rhythm.)
Philosophers who'll be undying,
Like me, deserve more edifying
And rhythmical airs
Than these peasant affairs
Off the farm – which I seem to be buying!
