Author: Mike Crowl

COUNT Dracula, bored with dark of night, began to
DALLY with the thought of light. He woke to find the morn had broken. A
RARER action never heard. In fright he took to flight to
HALVE his chance of being seen, but seen he was, by one foul-spoken.    

GUMMY, I am, without my precious
UPPER plate, and what was white is
CREAM. Do I detect just the slightest
FLECK or stipple? Oh, Age a blight is.

I’m the kind of short-skirt, easy-going GHOUL
who has better things to do with my day than THINK-
in’ about politics, especially former PMs like Tony BLARE;
in fact, I’m brainy enough, in my own way, to discuss any other TOPIC!

BRIAR, poor lass, sang always with a voice
REEDY and sharp. The much-experienced organist,
BEING ready, as always, deftly, with one
SWEEP, transposed the accompaniment to a higher key.

HEFTY the Lefty’s stuck as a doting lovesick star-
GAZER, the result of Hefty’s ardent, constant
SWOONing over Nina, the current topnotch queen of the
DRAMA – (playing nightly at the Portisqueue Palladium).

RACE Right over to yon fire extinguisher, since
CHOIR-thumbed hymnals sear with thickening smoke –
FLAMEs from Aaronic Blessing to Yellow Bittern spread!

Maybe a cook book set in a sassy, SAUCY
kitchen, where a unwitting PEACH
will be, via a hand much SURER
than mine, of its skin STRIPped.

‘Hang it all, that makes me ANGRY.
Surely even you must be AWARE
that a stone’s value is known by its CARAT.
Plainly there is an infinite CHASM
of understanding between us; you a CHARD,
a plain green vegetable; me a CHILI
full of fire, tied to Reason as a CLEAT,
always, always ready and EAGER
for further knowledge, a star-GAZER,
no slave at… Continue reading Lovers’ tiff?

BLAND, gray is the landscape;
DUSTY the car, the gravel roads.
FRUIT in the passing orchards,
LAYER on layer, has that tint of the
LOWLY, like men rising, who are
MINERs, from the pit at day’s end.
QUOTH my friend, sweating, ‘The
SCRUB ahead seems a sweet place to
SLEEP, to make camp. Open. Clear. My
SNOUT finds it out. I take my
STAND upon… Continue reading Write your own story

‘ALTAR my suit, tailor. It’s too big around the
CHEST.’ ‘I can alter it, sir, make you look like Walter
DRAKE. Would that
DROOP your demeanour or
ELATE you?’ ‘Don’t be daft, man. I have to
EMCEE an important conference and I can’t look like a
FISH, You know, a fish about to
FLAIL around in something far too big for it.’… Continue reading Too big…