Letters.
A Book
Letters
In a Book
A. B. O. O. and K.
The Librarian said,
‘Ook!’
I C individual letters,
but only when read from the page;
when read aloud,
they mingle – do U C?
U do?
Gr8!
By the Book (sic)
Bardly Writ
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Tag Archives: #letters
Letters #8
Letters #8
What can you make out of letters?
Words?
Words of complaint,
bold enough to make you feint
this way and that;
thrust, parry, Jerusalem Larry;
creative types straight from the font,
you make them do what you want
and curse them when they won’t –
because often they don’t;
you can’t alter their wont,
they’re not yours alone,
and though you try to atone,
I’d give it up for Lent,
if you know what is meant
by a life more or less well spent.
Words don’t come easy
peasy, lemon drizzle cake.
Out of letters come my words,
please make of them what you will
make.
In the Squad Car
In the squad car
Juliet (into walkie-talkie): Oscar Biscuit Tango! Oscar Biscuit Tango!
Oscar: Shouldn’t that be Oscar Bravo Tango?
Juliet: It should, but; as you are named Oscar Biscuit, I thought that I would update our phonetic alphabet a little.
Oscar: I should remind you, Juliet, that your name is Juliet and we can always make strange new phonetic letters to go with that.
Juliet: Such as?
Oscar: Well, um, okay, how about Juliet Zipadeedoodah Fandango?
Juliet: I like it, lots. And I’m going to change my name by deed poll to ‘Juliet Zipadeedoodah Fandango!’
Oscar: you can’t change the Juliet part – you are already Juliet.
Juliet: No, not really; the lads at my first station just called me that because of my being a woman.
Oscar: Oh. What is your real name?
Juliet: It’s a bit embarrassing?
Oscar: You can tell me – I’m Oscar Biscuit, so let’s just be open with our names.
Juliet: Okay. My name is… Charli (with an I and no e) Sue-Lou Foxcroft.
Oscar: And a lovely name it is, too.
Radio Voice: Oscar Biscuit Tango! Oscar Biscuit Tango! It’s Golf Hotel Weekend here – are you receiving me?
Letters #5
Letters #5
(I was supposed to write a poem about ‘Letters’.)
Green, salad-looking, fresh;
with leaves crisp and crunchy;
good friend to the tomato;
yearning for a dollop of Mayo
or Salad Cream,
maybe some light vinaigrette.
When your life’s course has run,
do you say,
Non, rien de rien, non, je ne regrette rien.
a la Edith Piaf?
#Letters 4
#Letters 4
I don’t have letters after my name,
nor bailiffs after my goods and chattels;
I am solely to blame
for any skirmishes and battles
that I have entered into
with the dubious intention
of staking my claim
to the wealth of a nation;
and I have ‘never’ liaised with the Devil;
though, to give him his due,
he has ‘never’ ‘ever’ asked me to.
I don’t receive many letters
with my name emblazoned
upon the envelope;
I live in hope,
not literally, but laterally,
and how long is a piece of rope?
What is there left when all soap is gone?
Why do rhetorical questions matter so little to me;
the former? The latter?
the letter of the law is unsure upon this point,
and, so, I anoint myself with the moisture of sweat,
or, better yet,
a lack of physical and mental debt.
We are ‘all’ living in a material world,
and I am a material;
well, maybe knot.
My D.I.G.N.I.T.Y.
becomes less ev’ry day.
PS Good Luck with the above.
#Letters – Deconstructing a Poem
#Letters – Deconstructing a Poem
If you take every individual letter
from this poem
and put them in order of amount of use
it doesn’t make the poem better,
to be terse –
it makes it worse!
–:/–
And here are the component parts:
Iiiiiiiii
ffff
yy
ooooooooooo
uuuuu
tttttttttttttttt
aaaaaa
kkk
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
vv
rrrrrrrr
nnnnn
ddddd
ll
mmmmmmm
hhh
ssssss
ppp
‘
bb
,
–
w
!
Letters.
Letters.
Letters
make the words
that make the sentences
that make the words go round
the world.
And I bet,
that an alphabet
is better at aiding that
than a black cravat.
Which is kinda weird;
but, as I’ve said before,
it’s what I do.
