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Just your typical trying hard- wannabe poet at its finnest :)
Poems
Carmela Mel Patterson Oct 2014
Moon of my Hammy
Carmela Mel Patterson
Oct 2014
Honey, I love you, really I do
just like a hog loves slop
your big stick-out ear I chew
what the heck is this glop?
I kiss your chops, pucker up
hold me tight in the pen
mud pies are the runners' cup
if we win, we'll run again.
Dear, I nestle near your nuzzle
smooch me all over my face
take me apart just like a puzzle
I've lost my dignity and grace.
But first we have a race to win
slather soil, don't dare foil
beat the pork out of your twin
let's make it worth the toil.
I can always tell you two apart
you say you wonder how?
I can look at your counterpart's
moon when he take a bow.
Yours is handsome, his only cute
Hammy, you are my choice
let's cuddle in our birthday suits
tell 'im to drink with the boys,
so we can be alone, you and I
take a bath in tub of mud pies.
just like a hog loves slop
your big stick-out ear I chew
what the heck is this glop?
I kiss your chops, pucker up
hold me tight in the pen
mud pies are the runners' cup
if we win, we'll run again.
Dear, I nestle near your nuzzle
smooch me all over my face
take me apart just like a puzzle
I've lost my dignity and grace.
But first we have a race to win
slather soil, don't dare foil
beat the pork out of your twin
let's make it worth the toil.
I can always tell you two apart
you say you wonder how?
I can look at your counterpart's
moon when he take a bow.
Yours is handsome, his only cute
Hammy, you are my choice
let's cuddle in our birthday suits
tell 'im to drink with the boys,
so we can be alone, you and I
take a bath in tub of mud pies.
Silly Love Poem
One of my ridiculous ludicrosities
© Carmela M. Patterson, All rights reserved
One of my ridiculous ludicrosities
© Carmela M. Patterson, All rights reserved
Donall Dempsey
Jul 2015
Two fictional characters
walk into a bar
in Malta
( * Marsaxlokk - to be precise ).
"To...be....tooo beee. . ."
stammers Hamlet.
"Oh fer Gawd's sake...two beers!"
J. Alfred Prufrock snaps.
"You really milk that
"To be or not..." thingy."
J.A.P. scolds Hamlet.
"Tsk...tsk!" Hamlet tsk tsks.
( sticking his tongue out ).
Two Cisks are plonked
down before them.
"No...I am not Prince Hamlet or
was meant to be..!"
J.A.P. quotes him self.
"Awww fer Jaysus sake...loooook
just for the fun of it...the gas of it
we swop
texts!"
Hamlet interrupts Prufrock's
protestations.
"Ohhhh....o.....K?"
Prufrock ponders somewhat doubtfully.
And, so:
Hamlet the Dane
( for yea it is indeed he)
dares
(1) to eat a peach (2) wear the bottoms of his white
flannel trousers rolled (3) parts his hair behind even
(4) dares
to aks
the overwhelming question
"( Oh, do not ask, what is it! )"
Oh & (5) gets to hear
( ** ** ** )
"...the mermaids singing...."
Prufrock "Hum...."
kills the king.
Becomes the king.
Beds.
Weds
Ophelia.
" Buzz buzz...come come..go...go!"
"It's a very foreshortened
Hamlet...I know
but - what the heck!
"See..? slurps Hammy
". . . now, that wasn't so bad...was it?"
"Another Cisk?"
"Naw...I'll have a Becks!"
"Jaysus Prufrock now
...what's up?"
"Don't know..."mutters J.A.P.
wearing a frothy beer moustache.
"HURRY UP PLEASE...IT'S TIME!"
roars the barman in Maltese.
"I can connect nothing
with...nothing!"
Prufrock almost sobs.
"Like that time
on Margate sands..."
Hamlet cuts him curtly off.
"Don't even go...there!"
"But I still get that squirmy
...you know...feeling
we are just
fragments of
the imagination of
some *long haired Irish poet
sunning himself by
the waters of
the shimmering waters of
a Sliema hotel pool
...up up in the clouds!
Hamlet sighs.
"Yeah, me too
spooky...innit?"
Hamlet looks behind him
checking for what isn't
there. . .
"Ahhhh well, never mind eh?"
Prufrock attempts an attempt
at being cheerful.
Fails miserably.
"Let us go, then
you and I...
when the evening is spread out
against the sky..."
Like a patient etherised upon a table!
they both sing outta time and outta tune
stumbling one
into the other.
A long hair Irish poet
smiles as he watches them
go.
"Għaġġel fil-għoli...wasal iż-żmien JEKK JOGĦĠBOK!"
the barman roars.
NOTES
Pronounced MAR SA SCHLOCK. Those Maltese Xs being really SHs in disguise.
* Pronounced CHISK but the new barman is obviously new to the language and pronounces it TSK which makes him think that is what our two fictional characters are ordering.
Not to be confused with mobile texting but rather the literary texts of which both of them owe their existence.
* The play bounded in a nutshell as it were.
One Donall Gearld Oliver Denis Dempsey is a good example of this sort.
* The No. 1 song all over Heaven...beating Sparks THE NO. 1 SONG ALL OVER HEAVEN to the top spot.
** "Għaġġel fil-għoli...wasal iż-żmien JEKK JOGĦĠBOK!" Once again the new Irish barman hasn't got his tonsils around the Maltese lingo and comes out with this terrible mish mash of the typical barman's cry.
walk into a bar
in Malta
( * Marsaxlokk - to be precise ).
"To...be....tooo beee. . ."
stammers Hamlet.
"Oh fer Gawd's sake...two beers!"
J. Alfred Prufrock snaps.
"You really milk that
"To be or not..." thingy."
J.A.P. scolds Hamlet.
"Tsk...tsk!" Hamlet tsk tsks.
( sticking his tongue out ).
Two Cisks are plonked
down before them.
"No...I am not Prince Hamlet or
was meant to be..!"
J.A.P. quotes him self.
"Awww fer Jaysus sake...loooook
just for the fun of it...the gas of it
we swop
texts!"
Hamlet interrupts Prufrock's
protestations.
"Ohhhh....o.....K?"
Prufrock ponders somewhat doubtfully.
And, so:
Hamlet the Dane
( for yea it is indeed he)
dares
(1) to eat a peach (2) wear the bottoms of his white
flannel trousers rolled (3) parts his hair behind even
(4) dares
to aks
the overwhelming question
"( Oh, do not ask, what is it! )"
Oh & (5) gets to hear
( ** ** ** )
"...the mermaids singing...."
Prufrock "Hum...."
kills the king.
Becomes the king.
Beds.
Weds
Ophelia.
" Buzz buzz...come come..go...go!"
"It's a very foreshortened
Hamlet...I know
but - what the heck!
"See..? slurps Hammy
". . . now, that wasn't so bad...was it?"
"Another Cisk?"
"Naw...I'll have a Becks!"
"Jaysus Prufrock now
...what's up?"
"Don't know..."mutters J.A.P.
wearing a frothy beer moustache.
"HURRY UP PLEASE...IT'S TIME!"
roars the barman in Maltese.
"I can connect nothing
with...nothing!"
Prufrock almost sobs.
"Like that time
on Margate sands..."
Hamlet cuts him curtly off.
"Don't even go...there!"
"But I still get that squirmy
...you know...feeling
we are just
fragments of
the imagination of
some *long haired Irish poet
sunning himself by
the waters of
the shimmering waters of
a Sliema hotel pool
...up up in the clouds!
Hamlet sighs.
"Yeah, me too
spooky...innit?"
Hamlet looks behind him
checking for what isn't
there. . .
"Ahhhh well, never mind eh?"
Prufrock attempts an attempt
at being cheerful.
Fails miserably.
"Let us go, then
you and I...
when the evening is spread out
against the sky..."
Like a patient etherised upon a table!
they both sing outta time and outta tune
stumbling one
into the other.
A long hair Irish poet
smiles as he watches them
go.
"Għaġġel fil-għoli...wasal iż-żmien JEKK JOGĦĠBOK!"
the barman roars.
NOTES
Pronounced MAR SA SCHLOCK. Those Maltese Xs being really SHs in disguise.
* Pronounced CHISK but the new barman is obviously new to the language and pronounces it TSK which makes him think that is what our two fictional characters are ordering.
Not to be confused with mobile texting but rather the literary texts of which both of them owe their existence.
* The play bounded in a nutshell as it were.
One Donall Gearld Oliver Denis Dempsey is a good example of this sort.
* The No. 1 song all over Heaven...beating Sparks THE NO. 1 SONG ALL OVER HEAVEN to the top spot.
** "Għaġġel fil-għoli...wasal iż-żmien JEKK JOGĦĠBOK!" Once again the new Irish barman hasn't got his tonsils around the Maltese lingo and comes out with this terrible mish mash of the typical barman's cry.