Six Clerihews of the Moment

03 Thursday Feb 2022

Posted by Candia in Celebrities, Humour, News, Poetry, Politics, Satire, Social Comment, Writing

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Angela Rayner, Boris Johnson, clerihew, House of Commons, Keir Starmer, Lynne Truss, Pm's Question Time, Rishi Sunak, Satire

Lynne Truss,

What an embarrassing fuss!

She confused the Baltic and Black Sea.

Does she have Geography GCSE?

Boris Johnson, PM,

from whom the Tory Party and the country’s troubles stem,

knows all about ‘tragic miscalculation[s]’

and is woefully inept at international relations.

Angela Rayner,

lover of the biker boot and trainer,

called the Conservatives ‘scum.’

Maybe, some think, she wasn’t quite so dumb?

Keir Starmer,

we’d be misled if we called him a charmer-

inadvertently, or not, the Scots crofter was hot.

His principled stand eclipsed the whole lot.*

(in some people’s opinion)

Jacob Rees-Mogg,

Princeling of Pettifog?

Is that a silver spoon in the pocket of your pantaloon,

or are you pleased to see us, that you may bestow a boon?

Rishi Sunak.

is giving us £200 back.

‘Now, don’t bite the hand that feeds you,’ he may say.

No, we’ll leave that till the Election Day.

Pointless Things

23 Sunday May 2021

Posted by Candia in Fashion, Humour, Literature, Personal, Poetry, Psychology, Satire, Social Comment, Writing

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concrete operational, fascinators, list poem, pet hates, Pillow Book, Sei Shonagon, trout pout

I think I wrote this poem based on an entry in The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon,

which was a list of ugly things. I tried to bring it up to date with pet hates of the

20th and 21st century.

Juxtaposing hair

which is unkempt with fine clothes;

a fascinator

on a helmet-like mullet;

hand-made paper spoiled

by spidery handwriting;

low-cut brides kneeling

in front of praying vicars;

presenting logic to the

concrete operational,

who try to pretend

that they understand;

a trout-pout selfie taken

by a narcissist – tramp-stamped,

and no Spring chicken either.

Poem from a Time of Trial

22 Sunday Mar 2020

Posted by Candia in Humour, Literature, Personal, Philosophy, Poetry, Psychology, Religion, Satire, Social Comment

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atheist, blame game, Kipling, natural consequences, Natural Theology, plague, theology

Natural Theology

by Rudyard Kipling

Primitive I ate my fill of a whale that died  And stranded after a month at sea.  .  .  . There is a pain in my inside.  Why have the Gods afflicted me? Ow! I am purged till I am a wraith!  Wow! I am sick till I cannot see! What is the sense of Religion and Faith :  Look how the Gods have afflicted me!    Pagan  How can the skin of rat or mouse hold  Anything more than a harmless flea?.  .  . The burning plague has taken my household.  Why have my Gods afflicted me? All my kith and kin are deceased,  Though they were as good as good could be, I will out and batter the family priest,  Because my Gods have afflicted me!

Medi/Eval  My privy and well drain into each other  After the custom of Christendie.  .  .  . Fevers and fluxes are wasting my mother.  Why has the Lord afflicted me? The Saints are helpless for all I offer--  So are the clergy I used to fee. Henceforward I keep my cash in my coffer,  Because the Lord has afflicted me.    Material  I run eight hundred hens to the acre  They die by dozens mysteriously.  .  .  . I am more than doubtful concerning my Maker,  Why has the Lord afflicted me? What a return for all my endeavour--  Not to mention the L.  S.  D! I am an atheist now and for ever,  Because this God has afflicted me!

Progressive  Money spent on an Army or Fleet  Is homicidal lunacy.  .  .  . My son has been killed in the Mons retreat,  Why is the Lord afflicting me? Why are murder, pillage and arson  And rape allowed by the Deity? I will write to the Times, deriding our parson  Because my God has afflicted me.    Chorus  We had a kettle: we let it leak:  Our not repairing it made it worse. We haven't had any tea for a week.  .  .  The bottom is out of the Universe!

Conclusion  This was none of the good Lord's pleasure,  For the Spirit He breathed in Man is free; But what comes after is measure for measure,  And not a God that afflicteth thee. As was the sowing so the reaping  Is now and evermore shall be. Thou art delivered to thine own keeping.  Only Thyself hath afflicted thee!