The Grimbleplum and His Ivory Stave
Hodes was struck dead by the Grimbleplum,
Who danced upon his loamy grave
Reducing him to human gum,
Which stained and hued His ivory stave;
He sank into the sputant earth,
And from his cap a flower grew-
A flower bright with lullic mirth
Sprung from the melifliss Hodes knew:
No slithy toves were crucibled
Within Hodes’ hulksy heart of head,
But one truth, irreducible,
Begat of his most beauteous dread:
Impatchicum! Deless, delay!
How bitter poison stings so sweet
Upon the concomitant glay,
Which thinks its hortle life replete!
No foopid hob dare test the dwire
Of mighty Grimbleplum’s long staff,
For all who view its geigalled spire
There is no reasoned aftermath-
No lexicon but pain and piv,
No unsurcome profundity:
The undone soul doth only give
By living moribundity.
Poll For fun, the return of Polled Poetry.
Who danced upon his loamy grave
Reducing him to human gum,
Which stained and hued His ivory stave;
He sank into the sputant earth,
And from his cap a flower grew-
A flower bright with lullic mirth
Sprung from the melifliss Hodes knew:
No slithy toves were crucibled
Within Hodes’ hulksy heart of head,
But one truth, irreducible,
Begat of his most beauteous dread:
Impatchicum! Deless, delay!
How bitter poison stings so sweet
Upon the concomitant glay,
Which thinks its hortle life replete!
No foopid hob dare test the dwire
Of mighty Grimbleplum’s long staff,
For all who view its geigalled spire
There is no reasoned aftermath-
No lexicon but pain and piv,
No unsurcome profundity:
The undone soul doth only give
By living moribundity.
Poll For fun, the return of Polled Poetry.