By “Alphabet poem” I mean that I have taken a letter of the alphabet and tried to divine some underlying meaning of the letter through using many words featuring that letter. For instance, the S poem uses a lot of s’s and is in sonnet form. I plan to get back to it some day but was burned out after the sixth one.
B
a Bar Beside a Bendy Bow
Brings ruBBery, BluBBery B
to Billow aBove and Below
her Belt with Bouncing Buoyancy,
BoBBing Breast and Bloated Belly
to Bear a Brood of bubbling,
babbling, gibbering baby
b’s born of barbarous bearing.
B’s boys become bibulous bums
that binge besotted on barley
brew. Imbibing brim to bottom,
bellowing belch and burp, blindly
bumbling, stumbling, numbly
BriBing Beauties woBBling
Buxom Bounties, buzz the boozey
b’s born of barbarous bearing.
bluster and boast breed bellicose
bouts of bitter brutality.
a bruised barrage of bright blue blows
bludgeon, break bones, beat, box, bully:
biceps Bulging bombastically,
bad blood boiling, black bile broiling,
brawn not brain befits these beastly
b’s born of barbarous bearing.
like baboons buffering boundaries
by ballistic brimstone lobbing,
behold the base breeding of these
b’s born of barbarous bearing.
E
Egad it seems we’re being engulfed
By e’s in everything we write
Before, behind, and in-between
Everywhere and everyone
Emerging in droves upon the page
And off the screen and from the stage
Enveloping weeks and years and time itself
Sometimes red, sometimes blue
Sometimes green or purple in hue
In three’s, ten’s, eleven’s and eight’s
With a couple e’s here
And a couple e’s there
There’s two e’s in my underwear
They’re even in our chromosomes
Enzymes, eggs, and geodesic domes
In everything that lives and breathes
From elephants to bumble bees
We cannot escape
We cannot elude
They’ve ensnared our feet
They’ve entangled our knees
Till in desperate attempt to prune their vines
We edit our speech to some degree
But they stealthily stride in silent mode
And evolve to evade us on the edge
In humble tones that still sound safe
Though in truth are found to be false
For from my nose and inside my bones
I sense that we are not alone
Although we think them gone
Best then that we embrace these e’s
They’ll seemingly exist eternally.
K
(in nearly the exact same rhyme scheme and syllable count as Coleridge’s Kubla Khan)
Harkening back to kings and knights
that spoke alike in Frankfurt and York,
K stalked kilted cross knolls and kirks
from Bannockburn and Limerick
to the slickened docks of Cork.
When knavish Normans whacked and hacked
in their wake the course of talking tacked
and C became the hard consonant of choice.
But through dank blackness K meekly skulked and sulked
lurking in the background he kept his voice
and in those ages dark, K never bulked.
With a flicker of wick and tick tock of the clock
K woke to karats clinking in pocketbooks
rekindled by the knick knacks trinkets and rocks
raked from skeletons killed or shackled in locks
seeking knowledge of drinks to suck, snacks to cook
packed, stacked with cracks and smacks to the naked backs
of darker skin streaked pink with check marked tracks
and knees, kicked to kneel before plank crossed pikes
buckle, or risk their skull stuck on a spike.
awakened by weakened men choked to task
that kiss the knife, choking behind broken masks
crinkled with thinking tucked forsaken in brick.
Awakened by chalk knuckled monks asking to pick:
pick cake or the stake, pick flock or the block
Pick ax, pick cotton and make no mistake.
Awakened by skirmishes likely to break
when lackey met lackey like beserk cocks
K awoke…K blinked…K looked at the clock
K kinked his neck and hiked up his socks
hiked his knickers, took jacket from hook
kicked his knobby knees to walk
cracking his knuckles K partook
taking from the weakened flock
and K, once slack, joined jackels to attack
like a kinetic kleptomaniac.
K took kielbasa from Krakow
sprinkled with sauerkraut from Innsbruck.
Kismit skipped K east to Ankara
to toke on a Turkish hookah
and kick back in a kiosk
snacking on kebobs lacking pork.
K walked the road of silk
with kosher knish still stuck on his fork
and Kathmandu yet to bilk.
Karma led K decked in khaki
to ketchup from Kualalumpor
Peking kumquats, Korean kimshi
kangaroos, koalas, kiwis
Kyoto kimonos and kabuki.
K nicked then docked his Eskimo Kayak
with the Kon tiki in Waikiki
where he plucked the ukelelee
and basked in his pickpocketing knack.
Q
Quixotic Q
requires U
the quintessential squire.
Obsequious
he’ll aquiesce
to quills or quotes acquire.
Quantity
or quality
a quandry quibbled often.
Queen or Coquette
with requisites
Q quells both without question.
A quorum of two
Q and U
quaff codependencies piquant liquor.
Quite unique
but quiescently oblique
they quench their qualms together.
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