ATTENTION IPAD USERS!
Apple doesn't like listing me as "Will Shakespeare (poetry blogger)"
to differentiate me from the other guy, although everybody else does.
They took my first book but now won't take new ones. (Go figure.)
Since Smashwords distributes my books to Apple anyway,
just go to my Smashwords author page and download EPUBs from there.
Smashwords provides samples of my books also.

Friday, August 30, 2013

Kiddie Porn

He steps inside the candy store.
His pulse begins to rise—
Seduction’s an experience
Unknown to one his size.

Aromas tantalize his nose;
He shudders with delight.
Orgasm’s not a word he’s heard
But he’s a proselyte.

Although he tries to turn away
And knows he shouldn’t touch,
Forbidden fruit is way too good
And chocolate’s just too much.

Confectionary puberty
Has spoiled this child, once chaste—
It’s not unlike that “adult sweet”
He’ll someday want to taste.

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Mary, Mary 2013

Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How has your garden grown?
Though the landscape man charged seven grand,
It’s deader than Al Capone!

Monday, August 26, 2013

Sheepless in Seattle

Our little Jimmy’s gone to bed
But cannot go to sleep
So I suggest he close his eyes
And try to count some sheep.

“A novel innovation!”
Our precocious Jimmy drawls.
“These sheep of which you speak—
Are they out standing in the hall?”

I ponder this a moment.
It’s the kind of thing kids ask
And though I should be ready…
No, I’m not up for the task.

“Did Bo Peep screw things up again?
Are those her sheep out there?
She gets away with everything;
It really isn’t fair!”

I should admit defeat right now
And call his mother in.
Instead, I mutter this reply:
“I know. Men never win.”

“How many sheep did Bo Peep have?”
Young Jimmy’s lips pooch out.
“How will I know I’ve found them all
When there’s no more to count?”

“It’s not about the number…”
I begin, to no avail.
He fires a round of questions next
About their wagging tails.

“When all the sheep come wandering home,
Where else would Bo Peep find them?”
Young Jimmy asks, incredulous.
“They’d HAVE to be behind them!”

He talks so fast I can’t keep up;
By now my head is spinning.
But Jimmy’s staring into space
And I can see him grinning.

“Unless they’re in a slasher flick
And some guy hacked ‘em off!”
Young Jimmy’s getting wound up now;
He won’t be nodding off.

And me? Bad dreams will haunt me
Where some psycho doctor scams
Both Bo Peep and the FBI
In Silence of the Lambs.

Friday, August 23, 2013

Mary Went a Little Glam

Not sure what glam is? Think early 1970s music.
Think about the look of Ziggy Stardust,
Roxy Music, and the Rocky Horror Picture Show…
Or maybe you shouldn’t. Ugh…

Mary went a little glam;
She thought it psychedelic.
But everywhere that Mary went
Folks labeled her a relic.

She shaved off half her purple hair
And spiked the rest with mousse.
Her tie-dyed spandex leggings clashed
With shiny platform boots.

She wore so much mascara, she
Resembled a cadaver.
Her fascination with the look
Meant boys refused to have ‘er.

At last her friends said, “Change or else!”
She thought them cruel and stuffy…
But now she’s dressing preppy and
Has changed her name to Buffy.

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

The Fraternity of Sneezers

Some sneezers roar like railroad trains;
They shake the walls and doors.
Still others blow like hurricanes
And knock us to the floor.

A few folks honk like Model Ts
(Or clowns with squeaky horns)
While others make a razzy sound.
These clearly aren’t the norm!

You’ll also find the bashful ones
That “meep” inside the nose
Or snorts that don’t go anywhere;
They’re swallowed, I suppose.

Flu season breeds camaraderie
Among the sniffly set
And common colds are common bonds
Except when someone gets

That sneeze that’s like a fireman’s hose.
(Does that one need explaining?)
At least the other sneezers draw
More pity than complaining.

Monday, August 19, 2013

Sherpas in Love

In case you wonder, a chhuba is a Sherpa’s coat.

Way up in the Himalayas
Way up in that rocky landscape
Grimy sherpas take a break from
Guiding climbers bent on conquest

Silently they leave their parties
Slipping down adjacent pathways
Bashfully they seek out flowers
Breaking through the chilly ground

Hidden in their woolen chhuba
Held secure against the cold
Life’s a gift to share with lovers—
Despite the cold, love still grows strong

Friday, August 16, 2013

Dogged by the Curse 46

Ah yes, the final post at last! To some of you
it may seem to end a bit abrupt; that's because I can't
tie up the loose ends of the Dietrich-Lilian subplot
since (as I noted in a previous post) I somehow
forgot to build it sufficiently before I got here!
I'll take care of that when I turn this rough draft
into a final version. But at least the story makes sense.
I'll let this draft "sit" for a while, so I can go back and
read it with a fresh mind before I start the revision.
Eventually I'll turn the final version into a book.

The white wolf’s lips curled into a snarl
as he slowly inched toward the trembling Chase.
Chase began to scramble away, crablike,
unable to do more than that in his growing panic.
“This cannot be!” he roared, his voice cracking
from fear. “Your life is forfeit to me, hound!
The avenger can never survive the battle;
a price must be paid. The rules were determined
long ago. You have no right to ignore them!”

The wolf’s growling slowly transformed into something
resembling human speech, though barely
understandable. “The priest,” it growled.
“The priest is dying. He will die soon.”

“Humanity is fragile,” Chase sneered. “Many have died.”

The wolf’s lips curled upward in what might
charitably be called a smile. “He is the summoner.”

At that Chase’s face went white. “The PRIEST?”
he screamed. “You were summoned by the priest?”

“The summoner may not be touched,” the wolf growled.
“You have disturbed the balance.
A price is demanded of YOU.
The rules were determined long ago.
You will not ignore them. Vengeance is mine.”

Chase’s terrified screams were consumed
by the wolf’s ghostly baying as it launched
into its final attack. It echoed throughout
the hellish world Chase had created.
The flames dimmed briefly before exploding
around the wolf, the priest, and the girl—
first erupting into a whirling inferno, then
once again taking the form of a warehouse…
a burning warehouse.

Suddenly Dietrich was human again, on all fours,
naked. He glanced back and saw Lilian,
the priest’s head cradled in her lap.
“We must get out of this place!” he called,
and scrambled to her side. Together they managed
to get the priest to his feet and half-drag him
into the main entry. There Dietrich saw Chase’s coat
and slipped it on, then the three stumbled into the street.
Already the townsfolk were running toward
the tobacconist’s shop with buckets of water.
Dietrich and Lilian collapsed to the ground
with Benedict, desperately crying for help.

“Don’t bother,” the priest rasped. “I am done.
Forgive me, Dietrich. I have been a poor friend.
My only excuse is that I didn’t know the curse
would fall on you. I merely sought revenge
against Chase for my brother’s murder.”

“Father, there is nothing to forgive. I would have—“

Benedict gently raised one hand and pressed
his fingers to Dietrich’s lips. “I know.” His voice grew faint
as he took Lilian’s hand and placed it in Dietrich’s.
“Care for each other, and I am content.”
He smiled and breathed his last.

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Moira the Destroyer

I’ve been watching too many kids shows…

Hi, I’m Moira! I’m tired of playing nice.
The real fun lies in breaking things—
No need to tell me twice!
What, it’s fragile? A fragile toy’s the best!
I’ll break it in a thousand bits—
It should make quite a mess!

I’m Moira, Moira, Moira the Destroyer
My mom’s a nervous wreck but I ignore her
The babysitters run away in horror
I’m infamous! I’m Moira the Destroyer

Aw, it’s raining. I’ll have to play inside.
Hey, Daddy, don’t you run from me—
There’s no place left to hide!
I said, “I WANT IT!” Don’t make me say it twice!
If I don’t get the things I want
Then someone pays the price!

I’m Moira, Moira, Moira the Destroyer
I don’t care if my neighbors cringe in corners
I don’t care if my family wails like mourners
I’ll get my way! I’m Moira the Destroyer

Monday, August 12, 2013

Which Came First, the Bacon or the Egg?

I was eating breakfast at an IHOP
(International House of Pancakes)
when this brief meditation on the relative
unimportance of “who came first” occurred to me.

Once mankind learned the source of bacon,
It wasn’t long before the making
Of sausage, chops, and other meats
Sent piggies squealing in the streets.

The chicken thought herself much wiser.
Convinced that man would be much nicer
If chicks were worth more live than dead,
She churned out food from her straw-lined bed.

It didn’t last; her ruse fell through
Once mankind found she cooked well too!
And even when everything “tastes like chicken”
She proves to be the most finger-licking.

So which came first?  That’s hard to say
And it may not matter anyway
Since the head of the line meets his end the fastest;
It’s the back of the line where you get fried lastest.

Friday, August 9, 2013

The Weary Mouseketeer Theme Song

I know you’re all expecting what will probably
be the last Dogged by the Curse post…
but I’m in Disneyworld with friends and
simply couldn’t put the time in this week
to finish it. Instead you get this parody of
The Mickey Mouse Clubhouse Theme,
which many of you vacationers will relate to.

Who’s the owner of the parks that blister all our feet?
M-I-C, K-E-Y, M-O-U-S-E!
Eechy, ouchy, OCH! Our shoes have holes, our dogs are beat—
M-I-C, K-E-Y, M-O-U-S-E!
Mickey can’t save our soles;
Mickey WON’T save our soles;
Forever we will limp in misery-ry-ry-RY!
Hobble on and sing this song to Mickey’s company:
M-I-C, K-E-Y, don't-you-help-our-feet?
Hey, Mickey!
Hey, Mickey!
Hey, Mickey! We’re TIRED!!! Yeah!!!
-----------
Now it’s time to gripe and whine with all our company…
M-I-C… See how big our feet swell?
K-E-Y… Why? Because they weren’t made for this!
M-O-U-S-Eeeee!

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Calvin and Hops

A pattern poem—7-syllable lines
(except the very last line, with 8),
7-line stanzas, and 7 stanzas total.

He knocks back another Coors
and vents at the barkeeper:
“Why did they have to do it?
He wash my friend—my conschience—
And now he’sh gone forever!”
He breaks down in drunken sobs;
other patrons look away.

The barkeeper sighs deeply.
He opens another beer
and sets it in front of him.
“Cal,” he mutters, “get a life.
You’re what, twenty-seven now?
That tiger was ALWAYS stuffed.
When are you going to grow up?”

“NOOO!” Calvin wails. It’s so sad!
He slurs his words when he talks.
“He wash vibrant and alive.
We did sho much together!”
He stares at the bartender
but doesn’t really see him.
“We were sho much more than friendsh…”

The bartender backs away
and holds up his hands. “Whoa, Cal!
I think I’m open-minded—
you have to be, in a bar—
but that’s just too much for me!
For God’s sake, Calvin… at least
tell me you wore a condom?”

Calvin scrunches up his face
and wags a finger at him.
“You, shir, are a filthy man.
It washn’t like that at all.
We wash merely plutonic…”
he thinks a bit “…platonic.
That toga party don’t count.”

“You gotta move on, Calvin,”
the barkeeper says. “Nothing
in this world lasts forever…
not even stuffed animals.
You should find yourself a girl
and settle down, have some kids.
You’re too young to act like this.”

A businessman walks in and
places a stuffed teddy bear
on the stool beside him. “It’s
for my kid’s birthday,” he says.
Calvin leers at it and says,
“He’sh too old for you, cute shtuff.
Wanna ride in my love wagon?”

Monday, August 5, 2013

Roadtripper

To the tune of the Beatles’ Daytripper.
I’m on vacation this week and…

Bumper to bumper
Drivers are out of their minds
Sitting in traffic
I’m seeing wrecks of all kinds
I’m seeing roadtrippers
Out on holiday
It’s taking so long
To get there
Hey, are we there?

Stuck in a theme park
People are parked on the curb
Bump-ups and bang-ups
I’m getting really disturbed
By all these roadtrippers
Out on holiday
It’s taking so long
To get there
Hey, are we there?

It’s almost over
I’ll be relieved to get home
Can’t it be over?
I’ll be relieved to get home now
I’m seeing roadtrippers
Road rage on parade
It’s taking soooo long
To get back
Will we get back?

Roadtrippers, roadtrippers yeah
Roadtrippers, roadtrippers yeah

Friday, August 2, 2013

Dogged by the Curse 45

Benedict felt the ground begin to tremble,
then the rumble grew to fill the air.
When the wolf opened its jaws, the rumble
leaped in volume and it felt as if
the entire world was shaking.
Then there was a boom; Chase and the wolf
were thrown away from each other
as Benedict and Lilian bounced roughly
off the ground. The wolf regained his footing
first and charged at Chase with unbelievable speed.

But as the wolf neared his prey, Chase roared,
“NO!” and lightning exploded from his raised hand,
a bolt so bright that Benedict turned away.
The wolf yelped in pain as the blast flung him
past the girl and the priest, bouncing him
limply across the clearing… and he lay still.

“NO!” Chase repeated, and another blast
crashed into the wolf’s limp body.
It skidded a bit further across the ground
and the wolf did not get up. Chase just laughed.

Benedict strained to hear the wolf’s breathing
and he did, weak though it was. He felt so helpless!
This tragedy was of his own doing, and now
his friend would suffer for it.

Must he? a voice whispered inside his head.
Are you sure there is nothing you can do?

Chase’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Deeper,
fuller, rougher than a human voice now, victory
colored it with contempt. “Now, my enemy,
my foolish hound, at last I have my day!
Many’s the time we battled, neither able
to gain the upper hand… until today.
Compassion makes you weak, and your weakness
makes me strong. Today I consign you
to the bowels of hell forever, and I shall
take my rightful place in this mortal realm!”
And with those words, he placed his hands together
and a fiery sphere began to glow around them.
“Burn in hell, you foolish hound of heaven!”

NOW! the voice in Benedict’s head cried…
and suddenly the priest knew what to do.
He flung himself between Chase and the hound
just as the fireball sprang from Chase’s hands.
It slammed into his body with an crushing thud
and he spun wildly through the air,
landing, broken, at the wolf’s side.

And as he landed, the wolf turned his head
slowly to see his friend—to see him
with the eyes of Dietrich. And when they met
the eyes of the priest, Benedict merely smiled.
He could do no more, and he knew it.

Chase’s laughter fell silent as the wolf’s body
slowly began to glow. It floated from the ground,
its dark fur transfigured by the power.
Chase shielded his eyes with one hand
and, when the light at last subsided
enough for him to lower his hands and see,
he faced his longtime enemy once again…
but as he had never seen it before.

The wolf that stood before him was white,
a white so pure that the dark simply fled
from its presence, and its azure blue eyes
flickered like fire as they fastened on Chase.

Chase’s knees buckled under their gaze.