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.

Monday, September 30, 2013

Fall Away

Summer’s gone,
Those days we grumbled about the heat a mere memory.
Soon we’ll grumble about the cold;
It’s just a matter of time.

Until then
We’ll watch the leaves turn
From deep greens to brilliant reds and golds
To dull crumbly browns.
Released from the daily duties of growing leaves, they go bunjee jumping without a bunjee cord
And end their lives raked in a pile
Frolicking with children.
The leaves never grumble.

It’s not much of a retirement plan
But I guess there are worse ways to go.

Friday, September 27, 2013

Confused Beyond Measure

Sixteen ounces in a pint;
Sixteen in a pound.
One’s for volume, one’s for weight;
One’s a puddle, one’s a mound.
Different ounces, different uses;
Mixing them would not be sound.

They say eight ounces make a cup.
That’s wrong so many ways
‘Cause when I need a cup of flour,
That isn’t what it weighs!
Dry ounces in a fluid cup?
It puts me in a daze.

It’s just a plot to amplify
My many cooking flaws!
And sometimes, when I most despair,
I think: Did Dorothy pause
To ponder if she crushed the Witch
In dry or fluid Oz?

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Down in the Holler

Away down yonder in the holler, Jack
Was sure he’d make a fortune off his still.
He knowed the fastest way to brew a batch
And sneak it to his “clients” up the hill.
He knowed the places G-Men liked to hide
And knowed the lying dogs who’d rat him out.
The county might be dry but Jack took pride;
His hootch would always flow. There’d be no drought.

Old Jack tried hard to make his moonshine quicker.
One careless night, distracted by his liquor,
He accidently stumbled ‘cross a mine
A fellow “businessman” had left behind.
His still (and dreams of wealth) lit up the holler
And Old Jack never sold another swaller.

Monday, September 23, 2013

Always Fade Away

Stupid little verses like this
are always harder than they appear.

He slipped his new red sneakers on
And jogged through London’s rain.
But wheezing made him stop at last—
The bloody color ran so fast
He couldn’t take the strain!

Friday, September 20, 2013

Sloshed in Space

A very different tale of “first contact.”

“Ignite main rockets NOW!” yells Captain Clark.
“Great danger threatens Earth. We have to hurry!”
As blazing gases rush into the dark
Expanse of space, his brave crew starts to worry.
YOU’RE TOO LATE says the latest cryptic threat…
Too late for what? And how should they respond?
They speed toward a foe they haven’t met;
Without a plan, they might not last for long.

Somewhere out past Saturn they find the source—
In orbit there, a massive battle force!
A ghostly head the size of Mozambique
Appears and glares; they tremble as it speaks:
“You’re too late now; the party’s finished here
And once again you didn’t bring the beer!”

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Barbaric

He comes from lands that aren’t so civilized
So men of culture think he’s crude… and deadly.
To draw your sword on him is ill-advised;
He rises to the battle far too readily.
His rugged clothing covers massive thews;
You’d think he dined on steroids every day!
And when he comes to your town, that’s big news.
Most townsfolk shun him till he goes away…

UNLESS some sex-starved wizard with a grudge
Shows up to steal their daughters, trash their town,
And feed what’s left to unleashed demon hounds.
In that case, folks aren’t quite so quick to judge
Their hulking savior’s intellect or morals—
No sense distracting him from bigger quarrels!

Monday, September 16, 2013

Stinky’s Alphabet

Not sure where this came from,
but thankfully it’s over now.

A is for asphyxiate; I’m running out of air.
B is for the butt that scented Stinky’s underwear.
C is for the choking sound I make when Stinky’s near.
D is for deodorant, the worst of Stinky’s fears.
EEEE! is what the teacher screamed when she first caught a whiff…
And that’s why Stinky’s alphabet ends here. Fresh air’s a gift!

Friday, September 13, 2013

Life’s a Sitcom

Life’s a sitcom. Aren’t you laughing?
Scattered through life’s tragedies
You’ll see people acting silly.
Look at all the comedy…

Don’t you know a guy like Sheldon,
Big Bang Theory’s anal nerd?
Does it drive you crazy when
He has to have the final word?

Maybe you’re pursued by Barney,
How I Met Your Mother’s stud.
(Note that grown-up Doogie Howsers
Won’t be like the child you loved.)

Don’t your Friends all drive you crazy
Like your Modern Family?
Have you got a Cheersy hideout
When you need a place to flee?

Then there's folks who think YOU’RE crazy;
At The Office, you’re THEIR pest!
Whether you’re a Mike or Molly,
Life’s a sitcom. Aren’t you blest?

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Ode to a Golf Ball

I am ridiculously well-pleased with this one!

How recklessly! How recklessly
The dimpled spheroid sails
Out past the fairway’s boundaries
Where penalty prevails!

Despite much practice at our craft,
Despite expensive clubs,
Still doth the dimpled spheroid seek
Its refuge ‘neath the shrubs.

Indeed, in deepest forest gloom
The dimpled spheroid hides;
We hear its mocking “thock, thock”
As with each tree it collides.

Yet still, each week we will return,
Our hopes forever soaring
As with the dimpled spheroid
We renew the past week’s warring.

Monday, September 9, 2013

Big Bang Theory

I don't know why but I've been fascinated by
the possibilities for storytelling with sonnets lately

You asked about this gun; you think it’s mine?
It ain’t. Some joker shoved it in my face
Then thumbed the hammer back and just said, “Die.”
He thought he’d scare me—oh, but he was wrong,
Dead wrong. He jerked when I replied, “You’re blind—
I could make you vanish without a trace.”
Too late he learned appearances can lie;
That fool was slow but I was fast… and strong.

I doubt his wife will ever care just why
He walked away and never said goodbye.
When Hoffa died and no one found a trace,
The killer walked; no body meant no case.
Your curiosity might not be wise;
Forget it, kid. DON’T THINK; that's my advice.

Friday, September 6, 2013

The Rustler’s Sonnet

It is a love sonnet of sorts…
this guy is sure full of himself!

Rustlers are predators, all else is prey!
I find a heifer, cut her from the herd,
And change her brand. Another cow procured!
We’re experts; we steal eighty head in days.
My boys and me, we drive them dogies hard
Until we reach a slaughterhouse out west
Where greedy butchers pay us for the best.
From there we’ll hit saloons for booze and cards.

I keep the sheriffs guessing with my cunning.
While I toss back another shot of whiskey,
The law stops by the bar. They say they’re gunning
For me… but they don’t know my face! It’s risky
But he’s just prey—I tell him that I’m thieving
Elsewhere. I’m right; he thanks me as I’m leaving.

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Landlubbers of the Linoleum

I would have called it Pirates of the Caribbean
but that title was already taken.

“Avast, ye hearties! Get on board! Set sail
For points unknown in search of hidden treasure!”
The captain barks his orders; if they fail,
They’ll surely miss a bounty without measure.
His motley gang of Legos piles aboard
Their vessel, once a tanker hauling bleaches;
Now dubbed the Grass Stain’s Peril, plastic hordes
May terrorize tanned Barbies on far beaches.

Across uncharted kitchen floors they roam,
Unfettered by the fickle winds’ demands.
They drive their craft aground on distant sands
Then stuff its plastic hold and sail for home.
The captain’s thrilled… but knows his freedom’s spent
If Mom discovers where the Twinkies went.

Monday, September 2, 2013

Made in the Shade

An attempt to write a poem
with unusual and complex rhymes.
It sounds a bit silly but it was fun to write.

Though summer wanes,
The humid days continue.
Though pressing needs
Preclude a change of venue
And no relief
Is in the weather menu…
Go seek some shade
Where maybe sweat won’t drench you.

When temperatures
Can lead to heat prostration,
The Temple of
Cool Shade is my salvation.
There, sheltered so,
I rest with less frustration…
And hopefully
Feel much less perspiration.

So as I wait
For autumn’s cooling breezes
(And possibly
Hay fever, colds, and sneezes),
I’ll savor days
Like these till summer ceases
And winter comes…
And every shade tree freezes.