The New Law cometh down upon us

DRYLY the old man told his story: the
KNOCK on the door, the police asking, ‘Did you
SPANK your child?’ His answer, ‘What a
PUREE you make of the law. Of course I spanked my child – fifty years ago.’

Clach na Sgàin

CAROLs sound mid Christmas bustle. At the Abbey shadows flit.
SORRY–no, heavy, Scottish history gains bright chapter: stone of
SCONE seized back, taken home to a land where on sunny days
AZURE sky arcs over heathered hills, down past firths to a deep sea.

Windy

BERET-ce yourselves, boys, the gales be blowin’
CATTY-cornered to our path, and in a
PUFFY’d be blown away,
SPUN-Klear around like a tornado and gone.

Bayou

LOWLY bayou, yet ablaze with a
BLAZE of ghosts; though lowly, still
GHOSTly. This lowly bayou enflames the
BAYOU’s pale and lowly emblazing ghosts.

Between Fear and Awe

LOWLY custodian, mopping late. Did he just see-a
GHOST? Scrambles through hallways, staggers outside just as
BLAZE of evening sun rests its weight down,
BAYOU catching crimson fire through the trees: his heart has no wall between fear and awe.

Ghostly

LOWLY esteemed the mead hall of late, the hearth fires
BLAZE no more. Mirth and melody echo eerily, a
GHOST of former times chased away by the
BAYOU-born hell-fiend bent on bloody evil.

Climber

PRONE, hanging mid-air, deep breath, with a flick of the
WRIST I convulse to twist vertical, and continue to
CLIMB the supposedly insurmountable rockface; more
LEERY now of falling, flailing flat on my back again.

The Singular of Spanx

DRYLY assess growing gut.
SPANK, singular of Spanx, maybe the one spank will be enough?
KNOCK it, but gotta do something. It’s either the spank or
PUREE of celery and rice cakes for the next half year.