osmie: (Bowler)
"Pardon me, is that 'Aaron Burr, Sir'?"
"Why, you've perfectly discerned my every word, sir."
"Well, I try to be alert to such an earworm." "Sure!
I invited it to burrow, back in Worcestershire.
I like the meter of its patter."
"—But the curse, sir!"
"There's a curse?" "Yes, 'twas laid by Irvin Kershner.
Whoever surrogates this worm shall utter worse verse
Than any poet ever nursed — and unrehearsed!"
"Brrr!
That sounds disturbing, even worrisome."
"There's further, sir!
Your every furtive waking thought will nearly burst, sir,
With misbegotten creativity!"
"Perverse!" "Sure!
You'll work out overtures for gerbils, intersperse words
Of thermonuclear disturbance through your sermons, purl
Where you should knit, and then you'll knit where you should purl, sir,
And in this surfeit of interminable bird turds,
You'll nurture murderous desserts — you'll curdle bourbon, sir!"

"I am thoroughly appalled: is there no cure?" "Sure:
Wear this dayglo purple rayon Herman's Hermits shirt,
And impersonate a younger William Shatner."
"Sir,
You speak from personal assurance? This will work?"
"Er,
Well, to be terse, I've mainly heard from Wikicurse."
"Cur!
You had me nervous for a moment! Now disperse, sir;
I must insist that you stop rhyming."
"At your words, sir."

(with deep apologies to Lin-Manuel Miranda)
osmie: (Bowler)
Every now and then, my doodles coalesce into words and poems.  This doodle appears to be a poem, and so I thought I'd post it here.

Angular Momentum of Cascadia


verglabel
    dinstillatus
mingormas
      minglenas

intarbic
   olum
farric
      monaya
        fliggoonsome

ambarigold
   errana
      sim
         illish
            aggleezin

  bing
avo
     filt
        ar
      yssim
  obarrol
    corrone
osmie: (Bowler)
(inspired by those of [livejournal.com profile] skonen_blades)

At the deep end of Lake Okanagan
Lived a monster, cloaca to noggin.
But we hunted it back home,
So the beast moved to Blackcomb.
In the snows, you can hear it toboggan.

In a ramshackle hut in Nanaimo
Lived a woman who wrote NanoWriMo.
Each November, her doubt
Nagged her, "What's it about?"
But she answered, in prose, "How should I know?"

Said a border guard down in Point Roberts,
"My friend Rosencrantz, 'tain't that my job hurts,
But this daily commute
On some foreigner's route
Makes me feel like some play of Tom Stoppard's."
osmie: (Default)
You need to follow this link, and read.

Dad, by Duncan Shields
osmie: (Default)
You need to follow this link, and read.

Dad, by Duncan Shields
osmie: (Default)
I am now a published poet.

It's slightly scary but mostly exhilarating. I haven't yet clicked on the link to see whether my poem is any good.
osmie: (Default)
I am now a published poet.

It's slightly scary but mostly exhilarating. I haven't yet clicked on the link to see whether my poem is any good.

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osmie: (Default)
Osmium Penguin

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