Guest poem submitted by Mike Christie:
(Poem #849) Sir Beelzebub
When Sir Beelzebub called for his syllabub in the hotel in Hell Where Proserpine first fell, Blue as the gendarmerie were the waves of the sea, (Rocking and shocking the barmaid). Nobody comes to give him his rum but the Rim of the sky hippopotamus-glum Enhances the chances to bless with a benison Alfred Lord Tennyson crossing the bar laid With cold vegetation from pale deputations Of temperance workers (all signed In Memoriam) Hoping with glory to trip up the Laureate's feet, (Moving in classical metres) ... Like Balaclava, the lava came down from the Roof, and the sea's blue wooden gendarmerie Took them in charge while Beelzebub roared for his rum. ... None of them come!
Here's a poem I've been thinking about sending in for a while. And I was shocked -- shocked! -- to discover the word hippopotamus in there. Actually it would make a good segue away from hippopotami. I first read this in the Collins Albatross Book of Verse, and loved it at age ten. I still like it now: I love the metre, and the stuttering way it starts, like a car ignition coughing and then roaring into life. Mike. [thomas adds] "It seems very pretty", she said when she had finished it, "but it's rather hard to understand!" -- Alice, upon reading "Jabberwocky"