Lamentation Thirty Five (*)

A pessimist's response to Poets & Storytellers asking for our 'muscle memories.'

Haiku(s) In Memoriam.

Verses

In times past muscles

served me well. Swung hammers, dug

ditches, built railroads.

Then I took to drink,

Swapped my six-pack for tinnies

Swing the elbow now.

Can still crush empties

with one hand, (though not full ones

like weightlifters can.)

Punning on 'can' there!

Did you note? 'Cans' and 'Tinnies'?

(I'll get me coat)

Chorus. (Sing after each verse)

Biceps, triceps, quads and pects

all reduced to flabby wrecks

(*) Followers, friends and fans might be wondering what happened to Lamentation Thirty Four.  '34' is one of the gloomiest integers in the number field from minus to plus infinity, along with 369 and 1000000000000066600000000000001(**)  I'm sure you can work out why.  Thus it seemed prudent to miss 34 out.

(**) Known as 'Belphegor's Prime.'  It is too!  It's prime!  Check it out. Also - 2 sequences of 13 zeroes and 'the sign of the beast, 666' in the middle, AND it's palindromic.  If that doesn't depress you . . . 

Lamentation Thirty Three

 A Spongee(*) Haiku for a Cake With Teeth

Had my cake. Ate it.

From inside cake cried, "I'll get

back at you for that!"

(*) A 21st. century development of the 'spondee,' a two syllable poetic foot with equal stress on the syllables.  Not much used now that 'free verse' has sidelined poetic rhythm.

e.g. Spondee: Bus stop: Heat pump: Friday: Toothache: Football: Get It?

Posted in response to Rosemary Nissen-Wade's dietary supplement HERE

Lamentaton Thirty Two

A Laugh or  Craiku Haiku

Troops to Grunt who fell

On his own sword, "Does it hurt?"

"Only when I laugh."

Inspired by Magaly Guerro’s prompt on Poets and Storytellers United where we are invited to play along with Oscar Wilde who said, "Surely no one can read the death of Little Nell(*) without breaking into tears of hearty laughter."

(*) "The Old Curiosity Shop" (Charles Dickens)

Lamentation Thirty One

Shoplifting again!

They got me, bang to rights. Hope

they don’t lose the key.

 Inspired by Magaly Guerro’s prompt on Poets and Storytellers United

and the first line of Arthur Koestler’s bleakly dystopian novel "Darkness at Noon"

“The cell door slammed behind Rubashov."