An orange is not a Satsuma;
but, a Satsuma is orange all the same,
Identical they are, apart from their size,
and except for the sound of their name.
There once was a rumour
that a wayward satsuma
‘peared up’ with an orange from Spain,
but, when the details were sought,
there was evidence nought,
and the story was held in distain.
“But, Copper can get Verdigris, can’t it?”
“That’s true, if not at all relevant to a simple Acrostic.”
“That makes no sense, whatsoever!”
“No, but it’s a great Acrostic.”
“No, it is. Try it – how about you write an Acrostic for ‘O.R.A.N.G.E.”
“Orange? Well, I’ll try.”
“Which is not entirely true.”
“No, but it’s a great Acrostic!”
I am a poet,
and I suffer from OCDVD
it’s not just me;
but, others, too,
must, at some time,
have been plagued
by the need for
an Orange County rhyme.
I ate an orange for my tea
Because it refused to rhyme for me
One such time I ate a lime
I don’t know why
Is that a crime?
Two of my five a day
I opt to dispatch in a non-poetic way
An apple may keep the doctrine at bay
But, at its core, it’s apt to dismay;
And pineapples, coconuts, guavas and yams
Can’t always stop a man going nuts for his fruit (as I am).
It’s not that I’m fussy
To be honest
I don’t give a hoot
But, when you asked me
If I ate a balanced diet
I started juggling melons
You should try it.
This is just nonsense
You may have worked that out
But, I bought the last half pound
I think it’s your shout.
There was a young Scotsman whose ‘Oringe’
Was a hit at the Edin-berg Foringe
For his accent was broad
Made the audience applaud
But, made poets the world over coringe.