Silly Samantha

SUPPOSE SAMANTHA

A Silly Ode in Silly Mode

By Izzy Ess of Inverness

Suppose Samantha Mansfield had a baby named Ezekiel, could she afford to leave her husband, Manfred, for a wandering minstrel named Pierre la Monde who’d offered her a yacht and bicycle?  Would Manfred try to stop her in the corridor with Salvador, the Matador, who had an eye on her since 1999?  Would Sam revolt and bolt?  These questions are so vital that the brat, Ezekiel, forgot his cat in Latvia.  In Mandalay and Mozambique, the cheek-to-cheek adventures of the Eastern Africans led to increased rates of pregnancy, discrepancy and much diplomacy.  A necromania pervaded old Rumania, Albania and South Tasmania.  Samantha ran berserk, quite nakedly, amongst the Berkley professorial psychologists.  She managed to repatriate a gal named Kate.  When Manfred lost his manhood in a bar in Zanzibar, Samantha joined the matador in Ecuador who’d impregnated Freda Weinstein in divine combining postures in absentia.  Suffice to say, he kept the dogs at bay in Hudson’s Bay and laid another egg in Mandalay.

The words come easy but the syntax balks;

Samantha outperforms its walks and talks.

This kind of silly poetry is all

That separates the summer from the fall.

Methinks Samantha has the nerve to serve

An ace with wicked speed and outward curve.

A word to anyone who thinks he can

Approach stability with Kublai Kahn:

Beware of dogmata and traumata,

For they are dangerous to Canada.

THE END

© izzy sommers, md

Welland, Canada

July 28, 2013