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CORRIE AND JOHN (after Joan Hunter Dunn)

 

 

Miss Corfield, Miss Corfield, we’re destined as one

You a wood nymph, I a woodworkers son.

We both vibrate airwaves of Radio 4

You live and vivacious! I dead as a door.

 

With nasal enhancement and vamp-throated quirk

You take mundane news and you set it to work

Stirring old men, from straw hat to galoshes

Till backward and forth, my sawdust-blood slo...

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Betjemanparody

DARK SIDE

 

The Moon feels naught in futile circling

far off in bland acceptance of our plight;

while in that feeble light we half-blind stray

to situations shunned in light of day.

 

Her beams afford us sight attenuate

allowing indiscretions - thought and deed

and poets then, that cold dead orb invest

with subtle attributes no whit possessed.

 

As folly nightl...

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moonromanceparody

RAGE OF INNOCENCE (All due respect to Dylan Thomas)

    

Do not go easy into that cruel plight,

Life-latency should, combination, stay;

Rage, rage against the prying of the light.

 

Though cells, prior to conjoin, accrue no right,

Un-right usurped un-bid, entreats that they

Do not go easy into that cruel plight.

 

Wild sperm who caught and shot the ovum’s flight,

And learned too late, now grieving on your ...

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lifeDylan Tparodyrage

Workshopping Seamus

 

(To be read in Heaney’s ‘reading voice’.)

 

My chisel’s cold appraisal

Blunt as an English Master’s stare

Probes the poem for its pith.

 

Non sequiturs stacked neatly

Drying in a metaphoric sun

Supported by a splay of beams.

 

Redundancy is everywhere

Making the poet poorer than Midas

Who dare not spend a penny

Lest the golden flow shoul...

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poetrySeamusparody

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