upon retiring
from the mafia,
Don Corleone
wove aquatic mammals
out of raffia
i learnt this news
when he made me an otter
i couldn’t refuse
italy
The Day We Argued About Roman Numerals
Of that day when we argued,
my memory is VIVID;
I, for one, remained CIVIL
but you ended up LIVID.
Remembrance Of Things Pasta
She blew her fusilli,
my pretty penne,
when she found me watching
daytime tagliatelle.
Je ne spaghetti rien,
I responded in song,
but she did not linguini
for long,
just walked out
without further retort:
a hard lesson to be tortellini,
orzo I thought.
And so here I am
on my macaroni
and now my days
feel cannelloni.
December 20: The Mistake
Terry’s Mistake
Surveying his handiwork,
Terry realised he’d made a mistake
in buying Italy for Jo’s Christmas present.
Not only did it take ages to wrap up
but she was bound to guess what it was
by its distinctive boot-like shape.
He now also needed to get a bigger tree.
Remembrance of Things Pasta
you gave me a penne
for my thoughts
but when i refusillied
you went away
and never came
gnocching again
it left me feeling
cannellonely
An Italian Poem in Four Cantos (with @unalalala)
i.
O tony meo caravaggio
Il hobbiti bilbo baggio
Heretoyou joe dimaggio
Di canio mucho waggio.
ii.
Volare Subo
Santa ho ho ho ho
Nel Blue di Lee Ryanair
Felice di Lionel Blair.
iii.
La belle Una Stubbio
Flicki-kicki subbuteo
Lei è well beautio
Charade di muteo.
iv.
Duncan di banna tynè
La meadon da da dee dee da
Il Theo pa phetis no no no
No no no nee no.
