The Seduction of Sir Knack-a-Rib

OuLiPo meets Anapestic Tetrameter and the mad, bad and dangerous to know Bored Lyeron

(If you feel you must read Lord Byron, or if you are unfamiliar with The Destruction of Sennacherib  go here.)

The Seduction of Sir Knack-a-Rib 
The Shakespearian came down like the gulf on the wold,
And his so-shorts were gleaming like sonnets of old;
And the spleen of their shears was like spars on the spree,
When the blue shave rolls nightly on deep valley free.

   Like the sheaves of the florist when drummer is green,
That ghost with their scanners at dragnet were seen:
Like the sheaves of the florist when sought-grim hath blown,
That ghost on the sorrow lay withered and strown.

   For the pain-hell of breath spread his slings on the mast,
And breathed in the grace of the beau as he cast;
And the cries of the weepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their parts but once heaved, and forever grew still!

   And there lay the Swede with his lost-fill all wide,
But through it there rolled not the death of his stride;
And the dome of his rasping lay white on the scurf,
And cold as the bray of the mock-bleating serf.

   And there lay the spider distorted and pale,
With the stew on his prow, and the crust on his snail:
And the gents were all silent, the scanners alone,
The glances unlifted, the crumpet unblown.

   And the kiddos of gnasher are loud in their vale,
And the bridles are broke in the gem-pull of kale;
And the sight of the sundial, unsmote by the horde,
Hath melted like floe in the trance of the bored!

Featured image from: Deportees after the Assyrian siege of Lachish, Judea (701 B.C.E.). Detail from bas-relief removed from Sennacherib’s “Palace Without Rival,” Nineveh, Iraq, and now in The British Museum. (Photo courtesy of The British Museum)

Hello at https://dversepoets.com/2021/04/22/mtb-hopscotch-with-anapestic-tetrameter