Ken Gosse generally writes light poetry using simple language, meter, and rhyme in verses filled with whimsy and humor. First published in The First Literary Review–East in November, 2016, his poetry is also online with Academy of the Heart and Mind, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Home Planet News, Spillwords, Impspired, and others. He is also in print anthologies from Pure Slush, The Coil, Truth Serum Press, Peking Cat, and others. Raised in the Chicago suburbs, he and his wife have lived in Indiana, Texas, Oklahoma, Germany, Virginia, and now in Mesa, Arizona over twenty years with two or more rescue dogs and cats always underfoot. Their four children and their grandchildren are scattered around the county, mostly at long distances.

The Winsome May Lose Some

(a reversing rhyme)

A story told a thousandfold.

A pirate vessel, grinding pestle
seeking plunder it might wrestle,
shot a ball across a bow
but missed and sunk the ship somehow.

Although that hadn’t been their aim
(which fell quite short), they bore the blame.
The deed was done and now the game
was rescuing the hapless crew,
those soggy sailors, far and few

still treading blue, who never knew
what sent them to this salty stew.
Their ship afloat was now aflame,
and history, misfortune’s fame,
would let the former stake their claim.

They’d only sought to poke their prow
into some golden, floating sow,
a vessel with whom they could nestle
which would not pursue redressal.

A thousandfold of deaths, all told.

The Long and the Short of It

(a Circular Senryu)

Sometimes truth is short
sometimes lies are very long
sometimes the reverse
of what we had expected
they are rejected
whether they were true or false
whether false or true
many things we thought we knew
proven not that sort
some have values we eschew
things that don’t belong
which we’ve clung to, right or wrong
sometimes will fall short.

The Flash of a Pen

(an Alphatriplet)

Absolute
brevity
constantly
dictating
expression,
fleeing from
gravity’s
heavier,
imperfect
jabbering;
keeping the
leash quite tight;
making each
nuance less
obscure, more
pure, without
quitting all
reason, while
sleight of hand’s
trite demands
undermine
vanity’s
whims and wiles:
XYZs
yielded
zealously.

Francophony Baloney

(a lot of it)

Some Franco phonies
create caco-phonies
(those guys who speak French
with faux ahkSaunts that wrench
a true Francophone’s ears—
dreadful sounds which bring tears)
when they aim to ahmprrrross
and prove they are the boss
over each lovely lass
(I won’t say something crass
since this po-Em has class)
as they make their next pass,
thinking if they fake sounds
of French words on the grounds
that if they were from Frawntz
they could get in the pawntz
of madams and m’wazelles
(that’s what pulp fiction sells).

Replace tee aich with zee
in ze hopes zat zay see
zat zay’re oui-oui is Frawnsh—
zay weren’t born on a raunch!
Then they’ll rrrroll airrrrs arrrround
as they make each <r> sound
with a uvular trrrrill
to prrrroduce one more thrrrrill
(though, when ending a word,
ze “air” might not be heard.)

All “ans,” “uns,” “ons,” “ohs”
must be passed through the nose
because that further shows
that they know how French goes.

They don’t overlook
calling those who can cook
by their specialized name
when they’re playing this game:
The Head Chef’s simply Chef
(that’s “sh” with “ef”);
number two is called Sous
(rhymes with stew and “let’s screw”).
There are so many others,
few sisters, more brothers,
but most end with “air”
(like Chef Pierre’s derrière)
so they’ll mumble some word
which will rhyme, though absurd.

But action’s what counts
and it always surmounts
any words one might say
when they’re hoping to stay
even for a quick visit
for pleasure exquisite
(which sounds very sweet
when they say “exqueeZeet”)
and before their exeet
they should add one last treat
since the best-practiced dismounts
will sometimes earn discounts.