How the Pageant was Won

A French lassie with bosom, size "garage"
Belted Lakme while juggling fromage
As the house lights went down
You could see through her gown
(She ran lights round her decolletage)

While the judges did watch this gal sing
They could tell she was not the real thing
Just imagine her frown --
They awarded the crown
To Great Britain, who plucked Air on the G-string

A lister whose nerves were quite frail
At this new use of gay became pale
This subversive thread
Sparked a buzz in her head
And her last post was BYE or was it NOMALE?

Now this fable may seem merely quaint
But I saw her mancando (read "faint")
As her arms flailed a tremolo
She shrugged "Nu? How was I to know?"
End of story (a haiku this ain't)

Flight of Fancy

A lister who sang out his travel plan
Checked in posing as Beethoven, Ludwig van.
His no-frills rendition
Stirred up K-9 suspicion
As they looked for a Böhm in his Karajan.

Quintet

The Soprano

By the Nile I feign that I'm calm.
I've been stood up, yet sing with aplomb.
Here he comes -- It's my Raddy!
Great Isis! It's Daddy!
(No good comes from a "date by the palm" )

The Tenor

A tenor, once known for his miming,
Was asked re engagements declining.
Just shy of one beat
He jumped to his feet:
"Could it be my very slightly off but still wonderful sense of timing?"

The Baritone

I'm known as the amoral baritone
I grumble and croon on my own.
When my men need reach me
Imprisoned in Act III:
It's simple: I'm packing a cellphone

The Mezzo

She hailed from the far island reaches
Studied English and voice on the beaches
Asked why her goals
Were to sing trouser roles
"In my village only films of Lloyd Breeches"

The Russian Bass

Impresario, cruising on course,
Received cable: HE CANCELLED! NO BORIS!
As he raced up the Volga
Thus wired his Olga:
I FISH FOR DEEP BASS FROM THE CHORUS

I'll tell you a most ribald tale
Of an orchestra's makeup: all male!
When they played just "at homers"
These spoiled baby Böhmers
Thought tradition was spelled "Holy Grail"

But this question they could not still duck
Fiddling "Home on the Range" off a truck
Now the wives chew their nails
As the men don their tails
What they'll do in the name of a ... buck!

A Tosca who jumped from a height,
Bouncing back, was a breathtaking sight!
Her rival, when hired,
From a cannon was fired --
Quite a BOOM, since the fit was so tight.

The trajectory, graceful, not crude,
Created a scandalous mood.
'Twas the sight of those bloomers
That started the rumors:
"Her replacement is singing it nude!"

Jelly Roles

A tenor, re-tired, at Wendy's
Made his income from parking-lot high C's
When the shutter revealed
Growing fat cells, congealed,
He just handed out 10 x 8 glossies

I'd Walk the Nile for One of your Smiles

A Ramfis with golden Bronx voice
Lost that je ne sais quoi (it got woice).
His career took a veer
(Wayward spear from the rear)
Now his fached-up Aida's first choice.

Funereal Haiku

A lister, his body a-stiffin'
Was asked what to play when he gave in
"Whatever you play,
Keep it soft, guys, OK?
In case you hear 'Knock knock?' from within"

An unknown soprano from Reykjavik
Was summoned when Brünnhilde fell sick
Though she wasn't afar
(Just next door in the bar)
She debuted with a Ho-jo-to-ho-hic

A soubrette was then called in from SoHo
(Since her resume said "Worked at HoJo")
Soared so high touting Siegfried
She collapsed from a nosebleed
Now the company's props are in escrow

A lister no nuance did know
During Salome got up to go
When asked "Dare you Flee?"
Grumped "It's all Grieg to me --
I just came for the veils held with Velcro!"

A listowner taxed to the brim
Exhorted our posts to be trim
Please curtail your emoting!
No fairy-tale quoting!
The recourse is Oh Brother—Grimm!

I'm aware that a limerick means panic
And tangentially deemed operatic
No grudge should you hold
If I've failed at Rhymegold
But this flirt with deletion's orgasmic!

A latecomer making his way
Disturbed almost all of Row J
When admonished "Wrong door!"
Shamelessly opened a score
(But his DayGlo baton was quite fey)

Cloud Nine One One

A one-line me-to'er from Sydney
Delayed my last plea from a gurney
I'll review things from Heaven
Subject: "Chatchkas with Previn"
(When it comes, delete "I Need a Kidney")

La Vendetta di Gioachino

At a Straussian Gala --Row B (me).
Under Salome's veils--no bikini!
A peculiar discomfort
Bumped me not from the trumpet,
But behind, from a nervous Row C knee.

In a tizzy those triplets to quell,
I shot him a bitonal "Well?"
But to drum in the downbeat
This Gio brought in both feet
As he whispered a wry "Time...Will Tell"