901

MONA LISA
The 'Fifties hit by Nat King Cole

Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa, men have named you
You're so like the lady with the mystic smile
Is it only 'cause you're lonely they have blamed you?
For that Mona Lisa strangeness in your smile?

Do you smile to tempt a lover, Mona Lisa?
Or is this your way to hide a broken heart?
Many dreams have been brought to your doorstep
They just lie there and they die there

Are you warm, are you real, Mona Lisa?
Or just a cold and lonely lovely work of art?

(Instrumental break)

Do you smile to tempt a lover, Mona Lisa?
Or is this your way to hide a broken heart?
Many dreams have been brought to your doorstep
They just lie there and they die there

Are you warm, are you real, Mona Lisa?
Or just a cold and lonely lovely work of art?

Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa

MOANER LISA
By
Forever Jobless Kev (Rather a loafer)

Moaner Lisa, Moaner Lisa, I shall name you,
Alas, that's all you do eternally;
Every time you need a handy male to blame, you
Always shoot your moral arrows straight at me.

Do you think I miss that toilet bowl on purpose?
You know my aim's not too good in the dark!
And if I leave my Y-Fronts on a table,
They just lay there, and decay there.

Would it harm you to remove them, Moaner Lisa?
Don't you realise that they'll not soak themselves?

You are jealous every time I go out drinkin',
Hell, I only see my buddies once a night,
I am sorry you rise early for your day job,
But stop cryin', when I lie in.

(a day later)

I am hurt, alas, in the rectal area,
Ooh, there's a broomstick rammed up where the sun don't shine.

Don't you love me, Moaner Lisa?

902

'50 Ways to Leave Your Lover' by Paul Simon

The problem is all inside your head, she said to me,
The answer is easy if you take it logically,
I'd like to help you in your struggle to be free,
There must be fifty ways to leave your lover.

She said it's really not my habit to intrude,
For the more I hope my meaning won't be lost or misconstrued,
So I repeat myself, at the risk of being cruel,
There must be fifty ways to leave your lover,
Fifty ways to leave your lover.

Just slip out the back, Jack, make a new plan, Stan,
Don't need to be coy, Roy, just listen to me.
Hop on the bus, Gus, don't need to discuss much,
Just drop off the key, Lee, and get yourself free.

Just slip out the back, Jack, make a new plan, Stan,
Don't need to be coy, Roy, just listen to me.
Hop on the bus, Gus, don't need to discuss much,
Just drop off the key, Lee, and get yourself free.

She said it grieves me so to see you in such pain,
I wish there was something I could do to make you smile again,
I said, I appreciate that, then would you please explain about the fifty ways.

She said, why don't we both just sleep on it tonight,
And I believe, in the morning you'll begin to see the light,
And then she kissed me and I realized she probably was right,
There must be fifty ways to leave your lover,
Fifty ways to leave your lover.

Just slip out the back, Jack, make a new plan, Stan,
Don't need to be coy, Roy, just listen to me.
Hop on the bus, Gus, don't need to discuss much,
Just drop off the key, Lee, and get yourself free.

'50 Ways To Wake Your Sleepy Owner' by the cat

Boy, I've had enough of lousy kibble,
Some salmon fillets, they'd be nice,
Yet I'm locked out of the kitchen,
For bringing presents of dead mice,
Haven't roused the staff from bed this week,
(Ok, just the once or twice!)
And there's fifty easy ways to wake your lazy owner.

I feel blue and I shan't tolerate this bad behaviour any more,
I'll usually curl one out, to signal my displeasure, on the floor,
The unsavoury stench wakes them jerks up,
Then they just open the bedroom door!
Yes, the fifty ways to wake your layabout owner.

Scratch at the door, Thor,
Enjoy a dump on the bed, Ned,
Sit on their head, don't budge, Smudge,
Keep up y'all, obey me!
Hey, lick on the nose, Mose,
Lacerate one foot, Soot,
Set out to injure, Ginger,
Just listen to me!

A sweet little pussy has plenty possible options, at paw,
Some playful, some malevolent, every time, fishy food to score,
Instinctively inventive jolly japes...subtle, devious guile, and more,
So study these fifty ways!

The decapitated bird, I find, may cause nauseated screams,
Or savage talons to the tackle, interrupting pleasant dreams,
Vomiting up a furball, vile indoors marking, so it seems...
So, you just cherish these fifty naughty ways!

Bite the puppy, or tot, Spot,
Try two (or three) licks, Felix,
I'd suggest kitty jiu-jitsu, Boo,
Ha! Tee hee hee!
Just bring in a mouse, Klaus,
Do a few piddles, Tiddles,
Guess that should be enough, Fluff,
You'll enjoy dinner, believe you me!

903

[Katharine Lee Bates' THE END OF MAY is anagrammed into a similarly-titled poem with the acrostic constraint THE EUROPEAN UNION]

THE END OF MAY
by Katharine Lee Bates

The fragrant air is full of down,
Of floating, fleecy things
From some forgotten fairy town
Where all the folk wear wings.
Or else the snowflakes, soft arrayed
In dainty suits of lace,
Have ventured back in masquerade,
Spring's festival to grace.
Or these, perchance, are fleets of fluff,
Laden with rainbow seeds,
That count their cargo rich enough
Though all its wealth be weeds.
Or come they from the golden trees,
Where dancing blossoms were,
That now are drifting on the breeze,
Sweet ghosts of gossamer?

THE END OF MAY

Theresa thought she had it made,
Hustling with effort No. One.
Every fiscal follower wasn't swayed;
Endeavors are somehow never done.
Using new wagers she tacitly shared,
Rectifying her effort No. Two.
Often black wolf fangs are bared,
Pissed off like shrews in a zoo.
Equating her haggle to a stalemate,
Affecting growth of effort No. Three.
Neighbors might detect it's great
Unless the lawmakers disagree.
Now listen to the collector's chorus
If you really think he can.
Our screwball member Fat Boris
Needs a far better off plan.

[and with the acrostic revealed]

THE END OF MAY

Theresa thought she had it made,
Hustling with effort No. One.
Every fiscal follower wasn't swayed;
Endeavors are somehow never done.
Using new wagers she tacitly shared,
Rectifying her effort No. Two.
Often black wolf fangs are bared,
Pissed off like shrews in a zoo.
Equating her haggle to a stalemate,
Affecting growth of effort No. Three.
Neighbors might detect it's great
Unless the lawmakers disagree.
Now listen to the collector's chorus
If you really think he can.
Our screwball member Fat Boris
Needs a far better off plan.

904

Dusk in June
by Sara Teasdale

Evening, and all the birds
In a chorus of shimmering sound
Are easing their hearts of joy
For miles around.

The air is blue and sweet,
The few first stars are white,--
Oh let me like the birds
Sing before night.

June Day
See butterflies in the air
Like fairies kissing flowers;
In shade, the fireflies rest
To glimmer in later hours.

A man strums his banjo on a veranda;
He could be a grandfather--
His garden needs weeding,
But it's hot, so why bother?

905

This is a version of an English translation of Rabindranath Tagore’s poem
entitled “MANASI”

YOU woman, you are not a creation of God alone,
It is man who made you what you are
by infusing beauty on to you from his heart.
The poets sit and spin, create your apparel with golden threads.
By attributing new glory to you, the artists have made your
image immortal.
How many colours, how many aromas and jewels are on display?

A sea bestows pearls; gold, too the outlay from a mine,
Warmth in a May garden moves to impart buoyant flowers,
Insects inject life into 'lac' to stain your feet.
By imparting shyness, by dressing you up, adorning you with veils,
they honoured you, made a paragon to hide.
A burning desire that throws a shadow on your womanhood.
In reality, I see YOU, note a portrayal: half a woman,
the other, an aura, a mortal man's imagination.

906

[Dickinson's poem is anagrammed into a sonnet with a similar theme about the inspiration of Spring birds with a couple of relevant constraints detailed below it:]

I have a Bird in spring
Which for myself doth sing-
The spring decoys.
And as the summer nears-
And as the Rose appears,
Robin is gone.

Yet do I not repine
Knowing that Bird of mine
Though flown-
Learneth beyond the sea
Melody new for me
And will return.

Fast in a safer hand
Held in a truer Land
Are mine-
And though they now depart,
Tell I my doubting heart
They're thine.

In a serener Bright,
In a more golden light
I see
Each little doubt and fear,
Each little discord here
Removed.

Then will I not repine,
Knowing that Bird of mine
Though flown
Shall in a distant tree
Bright melody for me
Return.

[Emily Dickinson]

The Ode On How That Bird May Aid

Spring mirth can be a feast for every sense
On morning walks, in really early light:
Northeastern air, with odors bald and dense;
Glad dahlias in a row, their hue too bright.
But no mere dandelion mattered here -
I'll only truly note that group of fliers
Refining notes with levity and cheer,
Debuting artfully one winged desire.
And when I wait there for my sun to climb,
The din enrobing me in stellar surges,
Deep pondering can find another rhyme
And I can heed the poem that emerges;
When hiking in the fields did not inspire,
No mob's more helpful than that makeshift choir.


[In addition to the sonnet bearing the acrostic 'Songbird At Dawn', I've also hidden 10 songbirds with lovely voices inside it (which are Canary, Lark, Towhee, Oriole, Wren, Robin, Finch, Vireo, Tit & Thrush), in a way that spells out the month this poem celebrates:]