Will Is Taking a Sabbatical

Will's other projects are a test
And so he finds he needs some rest.
Perhaps his work has made you smile;
He hopes to be back in a while.

Perfect Spiral

A football horror story—appropriate
During NFL contract negotiations.

The after-game party
    Honored the quarterback—
Her quarterback, she thought
    As he entered the room.
She watched him as he moved
    From one group to the next.
Her breath caught in her throat
    As his dark eyes met hers.
She licked her lips; he winked,
    Just as her playbook said:
If she received his pass,
    She’d post the winning score.
The crowd thinned, but she stayed.
    Again their eyes met, and
He slipped through a side door,
    Pausing to smile at her.
Another wink; he was gone.
    Almost hypnotically
She followed his signals;
    Their scrimmage had begun.
She had to have him now
    And could wait no longer.
He left the door unlocked;
    She glanced behind her and,
Certain no one saw her,
    She quickly shuffled through.

Splitting the defenders,
    She hit the open field.

The dimly-lit stairwell
    Spiraled gently downward
And she clearly heard him
    Call the play: “Over here.”
Her reason was blurred by
    Cheap bourbon, but his voice
Echoed full and rich and
    More intoxicating…
Her evening gown clawed at
    Her high heels, threatening
To pitch her headfirst down
    The shaft; she didn’t care.
He would call the plays if
    She just brought the pom-poms;
That was all that mattered.
    She reached the end of the
Stairs, her eyes adjusting
    To the dim fluorescents,
And she saw him standing
    Just a few steps away—
His bright eyes luminous,
    His smooth voice hypnotic,
Arousing, narcotic.
    “I knew you’d come to me”
He said; her skin tingled
    As he reached toward her.

Her goal was within reach;
    Time for the extra point!

She too reached out, stumbling
    To him, hoping for sparks.
Instead, she gasped as his
    Icy grasp pulled her close
In a deathly huddle.
    He sniggered as he cracked
A fanged smile. “Last down, babe”
    He cooed, one chilly hand
Cradling her trembling neck;
    She felt his fingertips
Against its pulsating
    Jugular seam. She just
Stared, unable to cheer
    Or scream or even breathe;
The game wasn’t over.
    He completed his pass
And she scored brilliantly…
    But overtime is hell.

Golf Ball

Guided by dimples
Arranged in precise patterns…
But it still gets lost

Where’d We Put the Plank?

The prisoner refused to talk—
Now where’d we put the plank?
Let’s take him for a little walk—
He’s got himself to thank!
We had him chained up in the hold—
Now where’d we put the plank?
But all we need’s a good blindfold—
He’s got himself to thank!

The water’s awfully dark and dank
But all his hopes of living sank
The day he said the captain stank—
Now where’d we put that plank?

Reflections on Myself

That guy in the mirror watches me
As I watch him. Together
We brush our teeth and comb our hair
And pluck unwanted lashes.
I wonder... does he think of me
As little as I think of him?
I see him but I really don’t;
He gazes back... but does he see?
I gargle and spit, look once again
To check my own appearance,
Then turn and leave, that guy forgotten.
I wonder... when I face my friends,
Do we see more than just reflections?
Do we take note of what is there
Or merely spit and comb our hair?

The Last Sock

I hate it when this happens. A single
Sock remains, defiant, staring at me
From the dryer where I cornered her. She
Had a partner; they were seen together
Numerous times. Rumor has it they once
Took a tumble together, then paired off.
Perhaps their romance grew too static, and
She clung too tightly; but it’s more likely
She saw they were trapped, so she stayed behind
While he hotfooted his way to freedom.
A brave act, perhaps, but a foolish one;
The Bureau is hard on cases like her.
She’ll end up in solitary, sentenced
To hard labor polishing silverware.
As for him... I condemn his selfishness.
Wherever he’s gone, it’s not sock heaven.

And Suddenly Nothing

Elijah ran when Queen Jezebel said,
“You humiliated me, and now I’m
Going to kill YOU!” He ran to the wilderness
And begged God to kill him. Instead, God sent
Food to give him strength; then he ran to a place
Called Horeb, known as the mountain of God,
And hid in a cave. That’s when God asked him,
“Elijah, why are you here?” And he said,
“I’m the only one of your people left, and
Now she wants to kill me.” So God told him,
“Go stand on the mountain and watch what happens.”
So Elijah did, and the Lord passed by.
There was a horrible wind that tore down
Trees and split rocks, but Elijah didn’t
See God. Then there was a violent earthquake,
But he still didn’t see God. And then fire,
Roaring fire that consumed everything, but
Elijah still stood alone. And suddenly
Nothing was there but a light cooling breeze…
And God. Sometimes nothing is all we need.

Stinky Shoes

Stinky shoes and stinky feet
Plague both rabble and elite.
Odors strong as rotting meat
Stagger us and those we meet.

Cleanliness remains our goal.
Pungently we seek control
Of our odors; yet, like trolls,
We remain but suffering soles.

TARDIS

I wish I was a TimeLord with a TARDIS of my own;
Like Dr. Who, I'd up and go where no one's ever gone!
Though TimeLords live on Gallifrey, they're rarely ever there
Because the universe awaits… so I'd go everywhere!
I'd disappear from Baltimore, appear in Ancient Rome,
Then sprint around the galaxy before I toddled home.
I'd rid the universe of all the evils that I found
'Cause villains pop up everywhere—they NEED to be smacked down!
The first bad guys to feel my wrath would be the Cybermen;
I don't know if they're worse than Borg, but they MUST go! I'd then
Exterminate the Dalek hordes—they kill for fun; that's BAD!—
And whack Sontarans on the neck. (That's just to make 'em mad!)
But once the universe was safe and no one had to fear,
I'd spin by Earth for fish and chips (you only get 'em here)
Then find myself a quiet place where TimeLords can relax,
Retire, and live off memoir sales… and not pay income tax.
I'd like to get a TARDIS, but the task is kinda biggish
Since only TimeLords get one… and it looks like they're all British.

The Parrot Pooped on the Poopdeck

A jump rope rhyme for bored pirate children.

Captain Peter’s parrot went and
Pooped upon the poopdeck;
Steersman slipped and jerked the wheel, he
Nearly caused a shipwreck;
Gunner dropped a powder keg and
Blew apart the main deck;
Bosun had to clean it up or
Drown without his paycheck.
Captain Peter’s parrot flew away
And saved its own neck!

So Tired

The day drags on till twilight falls;
I try to work but slumber calls.
Although my work load's so dang deep…
I'm so dang tired I've got to sleep!

Theatrics

Overblown and overdone
Look at me 'cause I'm the one
Broadway critics won't debate
My huge ego's crushing weight
Acts like mine defy review
Face it—you won't tame this shrew
Best of all, the show is free
Take a seat and LOOK AT ME!!!

Constellation

A random arrangement
Of ancient lights
Wraps around a celestial sphere;
Inquisitive scientists
Make sense of it all
By stealing a demigod's identity.
The academy applauds…

Meanwhile,
A young child giggles
Because she sees a horsie in the sky.

Mad About Ewe

Don't be sheepish, don't be shy—
There's no wool upon my eyes.
Though some say you're pasture prime
This could be our perfect time!
If we take it on the lamb,
Mary, you and me could scram
While they bleat their silly talk.
If they don't like it… what the flock?

Valentine

Roses are red… and white and yellow;
Some are brilliant, some are mellow.
Giving white ones means you're friends;
If red, you hope love never ends.
But yellow means…? I'm not quite sure—
Perhaps you're hoping for a cure!

Soaring

Unbridled by land, untethered by sea,
The birds seek the freedom of flight.
My feeble imaginings likewise take wing,
Borne up on a breeze of delight.
A halo illumines their sky like a moon
And summons them all to ascend
Unbridled by man and untethered by me…
Until on a page all are penned.

Resignation

I can’t see no way around it,
Can’t see what I oughta do
But this problem won’t stop coming…
Guess I’ll have to see it through.

Commercial

A noun, and yet an adjective,
Its meaning isn’t clear—
To some, it speaks of relevance;
To others, just veneer.

Some folks equate it with success
And some with selling out...
But either way, you know it’s something
You can’t live without!

Super Bowl Sunday

Once a year this celebration
Sweeps across our wintry nation.
Warriors meet on the field;
Neither one intends to yield.
Fans all gather on the couch—
The winners cheer, the losers grouch.
And once this game is said and done…
We’ll argue till the next one comes!

GIGO

Garbage in, garbage out—
That’s what computing’s all about.
It doesn’t matter what I type;
When I check back, it’s never right.

Punxsutawney Phil

A groundhog is a woodchuck.
He burrows in the ground
And if alfalfa’s plentiful
He soon packs on the pounds.
He hibernates in wintertime
And sleeps through Groundhog Day
So he sees nothing, rain or shine—
The cold should NEVER stay!
But folks insist he leave his bed;
The custom somehow stuck
So if he could, this day is one
I’m sure that he would chuck.

What to Drink

Though it sets most folks a-twitter,
I think coffee’s far too bitter.
I prefer to get a loada
Sugar from a fizzy soda.

Deadline

The clock ticks slowly
But each second rockets by
Exponentially
Faster than the one before
Until there is no time left

Popcorn

Having a moment of euphoria…

Fluffy white with butter highlights;
Microwaved and piping hot.
Teamed with cans of chilly soda.
Nothing’s better. Popcorn rocks!

Bitten by the Bug

They come in every size, it seems—
Those dirty little insects!
They bite us once then we get sick;
It’s just a human reflex.

There’s them that’s just too small to see
Because they’re microscopic
And others buzzing nastily
Like skeeters in the tropics.

The problems that they give me go
Beyond a nose that’s runny;
Not only do they make me sick,
They cost me lots of money.

But there’s one illness I can’t cure.
It causes me vexation:
I’m never bitten by the bug
To take a cheap vacation.

Pirate’s Grace

Only used after missing a couple of meals.

Dear Lord, we ain’t had nothing yet;
We’ll eat whatever we can get.
So if you’ll let us have some grub
We’ll take a bath, and even scrub.

Brief Respite

Such a fancy name
Just because the weather warmed
By a few degrees

Webcomic

Across a sheet of pixels
One hand guides
A pen-like cursor;
Strokes of light
Convert thought to image.
With all this technology,
Why do the thoughts
Still take so much work?

Kato

Cast as a servant,
The true master clearly sat
In the driver’s seat.
Even this naïve young fan
Could recognize the real star.

Roach Motel

Folks scurry in, folks scurry out—
Though the owners wish they’d stay,
Nobody plans to stay there long
If there’s another way

‘Cause the lumpy beds and the dirty walls
Mean the ratings aren’t four-star.
If we weren’t so tall, we’d be better off
In the trunk of the family car.

When this planet takes its final turn
As a cinder lost in space
And surviving roaches need a home…
They’ll still avoid this place.

Buzz

Like a swarm of cicadas
Their lips beat the air—
An endless buzz;
Rumors consume the land
And no ear is spared.
If only it happened
Just once every seven years…

Snowflakes

One by one, snowflakes
Form, fall, pile up, embrace, freeze;
An ice monolith

Ocean View

My video window on the world
Looks out across Pacific vistas
Palm trees sway in gentle breezes
Tranquil waves lap sandy shores

Surfers scoot among the breakers
Tourists lounge along the beach
Golfers play in kona breezes
While announcers tell the scores

Here, in real time, life is frigid
Icy winds drive me inside
There I wait for signs of springtime
Safe and warm, I dream indoors

Tired

The doors to dreamland
Closed much too quickly for him—
He was trapped inside!

Blue Paint for Sale

At the yard sale I found
A lone can of blue paint.
I didn’t see any
Other paint around it,
Just this half-empty can
Of blue paint. What a waste!
Blue paint is so useful…
Blend it with red to make
Purple; mixed with yellow,
It yields a lovely shade
Of green. It’s suitable
For painting a blue sky
Or a crystal-clear lake
Or bright blue aliens
On the walls of a child’s
(An adult’s?) dream bedroom.
Fantasies sprout wildly
From a single paint pot;
Fevered imaginings
Need but a few brushstrokes
To bring forth a jungle.
Whole blue worlds may erupt
From this one small purchase!
Now… can I find a brush?

Failed Resolutions

Enthusiasm
Sets our spirits free to fly…
But the sun gets hot

Cat and Mouse

They’re natural foes
In the animal world—
But up on the screen
Both get beaten and hurled!

If Jerry’s the brains,
I guess Tom is the brawn…
Though neither fares well
As the cartoon goes on.

Adrenaline junkies
With passions inflamed
Get so animated
Their wrath knows no shame!

So if your home’s tranquil
And that’s what you like,
Avoid pets like these two—
Choose bulldogs like Spike.