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, November 7, 2014

Taking a Holiday Hiatus

Seriously, it’s time for a break. Happy Holidays!

I’ve projects to work on
And people to see.
With Christmastime coming,
I want time for me.

So, friends, fill these two months
With holiday cheer.
I’m off on vacation—
I’ll see you next year!

Wednesday, November 5, 2014


A reverie. Can you dig it? I knew you could…

Good on a sandwich,
Good with eggs,
Good on salads
And pizza breads.

As a comfort food
It stands alone—
ALL good providers
Bring it home!

Monday, November 3, 2014

Early Snow

Nobody knows when the early snows will come.
Unpredictable jet streams swirl and rage
Across the northern latitudes, and some
Surprises always come from just offstage.

The early snows have come in force this year,
Unexpectedly blanketing field and farm,
Interstate and country road, with fear
That global warming trends may cause us harm.

Still, as we watch the early snows come down
And dread the certain back pain shoveling brings,
Let’s also spare a moment for the sound
Of happy children frolicking like kings.

Friday, October 31, 2014

Computer Software Blues

It’s been a while since I’ve written a blues song. The indents on some of the lines indicate a long line broken in two by a pause…

Got myself some software,
Teaches my computer
     to type what I say.
Got myself a headset,
Gonna ditch my keyboard
     ‘cause it gets in my way.
Gonna make me more productive,
Gonna get a lot more done,
Gonna speed up my day.

Loading up my software,
Plugging in my headset,
     I’m chatting away.
Screen looks kinda funny,
Gotta bunch of errors–
     it don’t know what I say.
My computer makes me blue;
Though I tell it what to do,
It keeps on going astray.

Yeah, I got myself some software,
Supposed to teach computers
     to type what I say.
And I got myself a headset
But I gotta keep my keyboard
     though it gets in my way.
I ain’t gonna be productive,
I ain’t gonna get more done,
I’m gonna waste my whole day

All my plans to be productive
Left me files of gibberish
They’re all in mad disarray

It’s a shame I’m not productive
But that’s just the way it goes,
No matter what I say…

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Hump Day

I ain’t no stupid camel
So Hump Day don’t excite me
Nor any other workday…
But Friday nights delight me.

Monday, October 27, 2014

Not Going Digital

I’m an analog guy in a digital age.
‘Exact’ and ‘precise’? I suppose they’re the rage
If you think there’s no time for a casual life…
But I’m in no hurry for all of that strife.

You think I should be there at two-twenty-three?
I’ll roll into town at two-thirty. You’ll see
I’m in plenty of time—no two watches agree.
While you’re pulling your hair out, I’m sipping on tea.

So plan out your schedule, right down to the minute;
Live life in a hurry, keep pushing your limit.
But me? I refuse to run rings like a squirrel—
I’m an analog guy in a digital world.

Friday, October 24, 2014

Wild West Story

Somewhere out on the lonesome trail
An outlaw dreams of the sheriff’s daughter.
Somewhere back in the boring town
The sheriff’s daughter dreams of the outlaw.
Haven’t I heard this tale before?
I’m pretty sure they got together
At Cactus Mesa, not far from town
When the sheriff came gunning to take him down.

You know no good can come of this—
It never does, in a tale like this.
Couldn’t the ending change this time?
Couldn’t the confrontation end
With the outlaw and sheriff, side by side,
Fighting Apaches to save the daughter’s life?
Couldn’t the outlaw take an arrow
Meant for the sheriff, a shot to the shoulder
That isn’t deadly but wins the respect of the law?
Perhaps in Saturday matinee style
They win the battle,
Daughter and outlaw riding off,
Framed by the setting sun
And her father’s approval?

Probably not... more than likely,
Bang, bang, the sheriff wins
And the daughter will just have to live with it
‘Cause that’s the law of the west.
Time to pull out the Star Wars DVD.

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Burnt Offerings

Grimly they go forth
With rakes rather than sickles,
Reaping the frail dry remains
With deep sighs and much perspiration.
There are so many!

They were vibrant in life,
Red and yellow and orange and green
But they all came to the same end.
Now they await their destiny,
Gathered in uneven piles…
And there are so many!

Children are oblivious to the ritual,
Throwing themselves on the growing piles
With much laughter and crunching
Until the adults regain control
And murmur as they re-rake:
How can there be so many?

Finally the offering is made,
Flames crackling and smoke rising…
But to no avail.
Despite the sincerity of their offerings,
Another will be required next week.
And the Reapers mutter this benediction
As they wander away
And ponder their lot in life:
Why must there be so many?

Monday, October 20, 2014

Autumn Sunshine

The days get shorter,
The leaves turn brown,
The daily temperatures cool down…
But the sun still shines.
It feels so good!

The birds fly south
To warmer climes
(And older people too, sometimes)…
But the sun feels warm
The way it should.

The year is passing us by.
We pause to wonder why
Time flies so fast;
This year won’t last…
But the sun remains.
That’s understood.

Friday, October 17, 2014

Far-Flung Places

From the home of Rotchschild's orchids
To the shores of Tripoli,
There are many far-flung places
I will likely never see.
Not the isle of long-dead dodos
Nor Mount Everest capped with snow—
If I’m lucky, I’ll see film shot
For some documentary show.

Still, I know that life’s a wonder
Whether here or far away
And I needn’t travel far to see
A miracle today.
So perhaps it’s no great problem
That my life won’t let me roam;
Though my world is not exotic,
There’s no place like home sweet home.

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

A Senseless Waste of Cold Pizza

Our pizza wasn’t really cold but I was in a weird mood after dinner. This was an attempt to write a story poem as fast as possible; sometimes it’s fun just to try things and see what you can come up with. You should try it! Just be aware that such poetry rarely turns out great…

When the pizza man came
And the doorbell rang,
It was time to have a bite…
But the pie was cold
So the man was told
That he didn’t get it right.
Then he pulled a gun!
“You’re the seventh one
Today and I’ve had enough!
You can pay my fee
And be rid of me—
Or perhaps you like it rough?”
I was hungry, dude!
Didn’t want no feud
But I knocked that sucker out
‘Cause when I want food
And you get too rude
I’m a fairly violent grouch.
So I’ll warn you now:
When I order chow
And the crap you bring is freezing,
You should stay away
Or you’ll make my day
When I leave you sore and wheezing.

Monday, October 13, 2014

Beta Males

Not the most cheerful verse I’ve written, but perhaps food for thought.

The alpha male’s a Type-A guy
Demanding that you fall in line;
The beta male is chilling over here.

The alpha males engage in war
To find out who’ll control the Corps
While beta males sit chuckling with a beer.

Though alpha males malign the betas
Most of them are beta haters—
One thing they ignore, to their chagrin,

Is that the serial psycho dudes
Project the beta’s laidback ‘tudes…
Respect might be a wise idea, my friend!

Friday, October 10, 2014

An Ode to Pus

Don’t ask…

I pen this short salute to pus;
It’s more determined than most of us.
The casualty of viral war—
Once white blood cells, they fight no more.
Those cells stormed Inflammation Hill
With just one thought: Bacteria! KILL!
They fought with everything they had
And, though your wound hurt oh so bad,
They won! And just to make it clear,
They blew those dead germs outta here!
(I know that ‘pop’ made quite a mess
But would you prefer a deep abscess?)
You clean your wound without a thought
For the white blood cells whose lives were lost.
Their efforts demand your respect, young fellow;
Don’t you EVER say that pus is yellow!

Wednesday, October 8, 2014

Scream Queen

Her B-grade horror movie role
Made her a cult sensation…
But doomed her budding film career
To voicing animation.

Monday, October 6, 2014

Helm’s Deep

(Will's having computer problems today so I'm posting his poem for him. -- Mike)
- - - - -
For those of you who don’t know, Helm’s Deep is a place in the Lord of the Rings trilogy. For you purists out there, I’m referring to the fortress in the Two Towers movie rather the valley as depicted in the novel.

It’s dark and deep and bare inside.
The enemy surrounds you and,
Although you may be safe inside,
There’s no escape when others block you in.
There’s food enough to last awhile;
There’s weaponry to arm yourself…
But neither gives you much to hang your hopes on.
You’re outnumbered,
You’re undermanned, and
You’re unlikely to survive.
So why do you fight?

Because some things are
Much too important,
Much too valuable,
Much too precious to just give in
When the world demands your blood.
And the sun will rise tomorrow—
The sun will rise
And with it bring the hopes of a new day…
And maybe a victory after all.

All because one weary soul
Withstood the temptation to quit just because
It’s dark and deep and bare inside.

Friday, October 3, 2014

So That’s Why They Call Them Bytes

Endless streams of bits and bytes
Move antlike through an endless maze
Of high-tech fiber optic tunnels—
Nothing stops in cyberspace.

Busily they make their way
From one man’s ant farm to another.
Each one hauls a bit of info;
One’s no good without the others.

Clueless bits and bytes, beware! For
Scattered through the cybersphere
Are many hungry data eaters
On your way ‘twixt there and here!

They’ll try to scarf you up like PacMan,
Devastate my fiscal health.
Please, don’t let them get my bank codes!
Be like ninjas—move with stealth!

O endless streams of bits and bytes
Who, antlike, crawl through cyberspace,
Be vigilant! Please, I implore you—
Else I’ll be a basket case!

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Red Shirt

In case you aren’t into Star Trek, the “red shirts” are the expendable crew members. If you see a red shirt going into a dangerous situation, they probably won’t come back. If Kirk takes 5 red shirts down to the planet, Kirk’s coming back alone. It’s a running joke among Trekkers.

First one to transport, first one dead;
Only the fools wear Starfleet red.
If the landing party says “Get your gear,”
Don’t be a hero. Trust your fear!
Expendable crewmen are cannon fodder,
So once James Kirk decides you oughter
Beam down with him to Elba II…
Transfer to Sick Bay. They wear blue.

Monday, September 29, 2014

Dog Gone

For everyone who loves their pet—at least, most of the time…

He’s man’s best friend
But this week, the kennel’s my buddy—
With everyone gone
It’s peaceful at home in my study.
He’ll be back soon
But both of us need a vacation;
He’s so wound up
It’s this or I’ll need medication!

Friday, September 26, 2014


Antipasto is an Italian word that means “before the meal.”

An intimate dinner meant for two
With candles lit and music soft
Serves unsure gestures, bashful smiles,
Breathy giggles, and awkward coughs.

Desperately they pray for food
To give them something more to do
Than gawk and wiggle, sweat and stare…
Dessert’s become the goal they share.

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Thoroughly Modern Housesitter

He stays alert
But it never leaves the yard,
Never tries to hide,
Never tries to sneak out late at night.
He wonders,
“Does it misbehave in ways I just can’t see?
Is it a smart house,
Texting other houses late at night
And sharing in-home videos
Snagged from the new surveillance cams?”
The job seems easy enough…
But he’ll never trust the security codes again,
Late at night or otherwise.

Monday, September 22, 2014

It’s Fall

I miss summer already…

Summer’s done;
Fall has come.
It’s fairly clear
When Fall is near:
The leaves turn brown
And drop to the ground,
The temperatures fall,
The school bells call,
And the days get shorter.
I know it’s just the order
Of things, for fall to come
When summer’s done…
But it wasn’t MY call.
Oh well… it’s Fall.
Dash it all!

Friday, September 19, 2014

Vitamin C

An acrostic poem—each line starts with one letter of the title. I think the rhymes will let you follow the rhythm easily enough though.

Invade me, creeping
Through my body
As I’m sleeping…
Mayhaps my
Immunity will
Neuter their

But if you're having trouble, try this version...
Viruses invade me, creeping
Through my body as I’m sleeping…
Mayhaps my immunity
Will neuter their community!

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Short List

I got so much to do today
No man could do it all.
This list would break a strong man’s back
And I can barely crawl.
Lord knows that I don’t mean to gripe;
I’m normally quite happy
But what you folks expect of me
Is really kinda crappy!
You know it’s cheaper if you waste
Some poor assistant’s time;
You know poor resource management’s
A senseless corporate crime.
So come on, Boss, and help me out!
A few things won’t be missed…
And rest assured, if you refuse,
I’ll put YOU on MY list!

Monday, September 15, 2014

Queen of Denial

Yes, this one is incredibly bad. Perhaps that’s why I like it so much!
Personally, I can’t help but pronounce “sooner” as “sue-in-ner” in the last line.

First Cleo married Julius Caesar;
He got killed, which didn’t please her.
So then poor Cleo thought that she
Would team up with Marc Antony.
Alas, her plans all came to naught;
Augustus met Marc’s forces, fought,
And kicked his butt and sank his ships
‘Cause a traitor proved to have loose lips.
She sued for peace, she really tried
But Marc committed suicide
And left her facing Rome alone.
One snakebite later, she was gone.
She faced a truth that didn’t please her:
No one beats Augustus Caesar.
She said—pre-death but after he ruined her—
“I wish someone had Ptolemy sooner.”

Friday, September 12, 2014


Although I’m working overtime
I just can’t grasp the paradigm;
They look the same but still don’t rhyme.
Can anybody please explain
Before it rots my tiny brain
Why words like tough and bough and cough
Rhyme stuff and cow and Gorbachev?

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

The Vinyl Frontier

Welcome to the Forty-Fifth Century
Where we live our lives synthetically.
We got wearable plastic to coat our skin;
We got eatable plastic to keep us thin.
Our plastic guards walk our plastic floors
And our plastic connections open plastic doors.
We squeak when we sit, we squeak when we stand,
And we make squeaky love—both planned and unplanned!
Our politicos all wear plastic smiles
On Teflon faces. (That’s still in style!)
Our squeaky dogs have squeaky fleas;
Our squeaky wheels get squeaky grease.
Our dancers bump and squeak (not grind);
Our squeaky scholars have lost their squeaking minds
Seeking ways to stop these squeaks we now abhor.
But still, we babble that we have boldly gone where no civilization has ever gone before…

Now remind me, since we’re standing here:
Why did we cross that Vinyl Frontier?

Monday, September 8, 2014

A Classic Action Movie in 60 Seconds or Less

Hi there, Hero! Heard you wanted
Peace and quiet so, undaunted,
You determined you would just retire.
But some guy you once offended
Snarls, “Don’t think my anger’s ended!”
Now your entire family’s under fire.
He took your wife, he took your daughter
And your son; you know you oughter
Call the cops but that ain’t gonna happen.
You’re the movie’s lead lifesaver
So you go call in some favors,
All of whom are armed. That jerk needs cappin’!

Meanwhile, Mr. Bad waits, humming;
He’s aware your army’s coming
And he’s got a big surprise for you.
Half the movie’s spent reducing
All the troops you planned on using
Till there’s only one guy left. Guess who?
Cue the final showdown—family
Threatened, screaming, while you manly
Types both clash in battle, hand-to-hand…
But we needn’t worry, should we?
Mr. Bad’s death is a doozy
And your family’s safe… cut. That’s THE END.

Friday, September 5, 2014

The Red Drink Tasted Funny

That cranberry red drink
You served me at lunch?
I found it unpleasant.
I much prefer punch
Or strawberry red drinks;
I like cherry, too.
But cranberry red drinks?
I’d rather drink glue.

Wednesday, September 3, 2014


One movie leads to another.
My legs won’t move;
They’re asleep on the sofa
Like me, mesmerized
By the lack of a better alternative.

One episode leads to another.
My eyes are glazed
And I’ve run out of popcorn.
Bring me a soda—
Another three seasons are airing next!

One moment leads to another.
My watch keeps ticking
And I’m not getting younger.
Life’s more than TV
But maybe I’ll watch just a little more…

Monday, September 1, 2014

Labor Day

For nine long months she played her part.
It seemed so simple at the start…
But then her hormones raged, she gained weight,
Morning sickness came, and back aches!
Add the cravings, tasteless comments,
All those days she had to vomit…
When she felt her first contraction,
God, she felt such satisfaction!
Then the birth pangs came in force—
She screamed until her voice got hoarse!

It’s done. Mom holds her newborn child
And looks at me with a woeful smile.
She sounds so tired as I hear her say,
“What fool thinks THIS is a holiday?”

Friday, August 29, 2014

Gone Bad

Not so long ago, you see,
This fruit was fresh as fresh can be.
So many longed to gulp it down…
But now they make a gagging sound.

Its brilliant red turned bubbly gray.
Yes, in a matter of a day
That fruit devolved from firm to squishy.
Diners eye it feverishly!

Once it whispered to my palate;
Zombies now go, “Ummm, brain salad!”
Come on—end this horror flick
And throw it in the trash. I'm sick!

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

I Predict

The night was dark. Inside the tent
Her face was hidden by a shawl.
Her client sat, unmoved and bored,
While she gazed at her crystal ball.
“Ummm… I predict,” the gypsy said,
“A tall dark stranger coming soon—
An unexpected visitor
Arriving with today’s new moon.”

“I can’t believe,” her client said,
“You think I’d buy that load of crap!
A tall dark stranger? Why not say
Someday I’ll drop food in my lap?
I’m paying you for useful facts,
Not old recycled movie lines.
If you can’t give me more than this,
I’m outta here. Don’t waste my time!”

The gypsy rose. She stood so tall
Her cowering client gazed in fear.
Beneath her shawl, the darkness hid
Her face. He longed to disappear
As she intoned, “Don’t mock me, boy.
The future isn’t yours to see—
But if you wish, I’ll show you yours.
I promise it will be a scream!”

Her client fled as though pursued
By some sadistic maniac.
She watched, then whispered with a grin,
“Now I predict you won’t be back.”

Monday, August 25, 2014

Rain Dance

Pitter-pat, pitter-pat, pitter-pat-pat-pat;
The rain comes down and it sounds like that.
KA-BOOM! There’s a rumble, then it fades away;
A storm rolls through and it stays all day.
But life won’t stop while the rain comes down
So everybody grumbles as they head for town.

Umbrellas out and raincoats on,
Their feet get wet as they dance along—
Up on their toes and jumping little puddles,
Bouncing around all the humans huddled
Together. But nothing can stop the spray
From the cars and the gutters and the kids at play.

The hot streets steam once the cold rain stops
But you still see a lot of awkward jumps and hops.
Others move smoothly, their movements deft…
But nobody’s happy with the mess that’s left.
The crowds should cheer—they survived the dance!
But it’s hard to be cheerful wearing soggy pants.

Friday, August 22, 2014

Long Distance Runner

You’ve come so far
You’ve so far left to go
It seems it never ends

Your breath is labored
Your lungs about to burst
It seems you can’t go on

So many problems
So much pain and suffering
You wish it all would end

One thing you must remember:
One foot in front of the other
So few finish the race

Don’t give up the fight
Don’t slow your pace
You’ll win if you hold on

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Hot Chick

Inspired by lunch at KFC.

She’s Colonel Sanders’ babe,
Sizzling in the pressure cooker.
Brown and crispy—she’s a looker!
Diners have it made.

Lounging on a plate,
Steaming hot, all firm and juicy—
Makes my lips go loosey-goosey!
What a dinner date!

When our time is done,
All my deepest needs are met, you
Crunchy babe—I won’t forget you!
Call to me, I’ll come.

Monday, August 18, 2014

Old Mother Hubbard 2014

Old Mother Hubbard,
Poncho’ed and rubbered,
Searched through her storm-flooded home.
The cupboard was shakin’—
Her dog saved his bacon
By hiding inside with his bone!

Friday, August 15, 2014


A fence that’s covered with splinters
Is better than one without,
For trespassers learn in a painful way
They’re better off staying out.
A dog the size of a quarterhorse
Is scarier than a pup;
While a puppy may yip and bite your heels,
The big dog’ll eat you up.

But home security’s tough to plan
In dangerous days like these;
Deterrents can only go so far
‘Cause the law protects the thieves.
Choose the splintered fence or the hungry dog
And the judge might put you away;
Your best bet’s a lawyer who lives with you.
He’ll even scare cops away!

Wednesday, August 13, 2014


Aplomb means “poise.” Ironically, says
it’s from the French à plomb, “according to the plummet,
i.e., straight up and down, vertical position.”
That fits this poem perfectly!

We’re on vacation at the coast.
Our daughter thinks a photo post
Of all the family would be fine.
We storm the beach and form a line.
The camera’s on a tripod stand
So we can set the timer. And…
Nobody saw that seagull flyin’
In behind our clueless line.
The camera caught our lost aplomb.
It really was a photobomb!

Monday, August 11, 2014


It’s a long long way
From this rest stop to the next
And the fan belt won’t stop squealing
It’s as if this car was hexed
There’s a knocking from the rear end
And the cooler’s sprung a leak
Gosh, the road trip’s barely started—
Will we make it through the week?
We be trippin’
As we putter down the coast
We be trippin’
And my brain’s already toast
Till this trip is at its end
Into madness we’ll descend
‘Cause we trippin’

Yeah, we slippin’
Losing touch with what is real
I be grippin’
Ever tighter on the wheel
Life back home don’t seem so bad
When these road trips drive you mad
I be trippin’
Oh dear Lord, if I survive
Next time out we’ll fly, not drive
No more trippin’

Friday, August 8, 2014

Old Torn T-Shirt

Another tanka—this one’s more reflective

It’s nothing but an
Old torn T-shirt, so unloved
But so comfortable—
Most of us wish we could be
Sew relaxed and casual

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Her Hourglass Ran Out

A tanka about a beachfront tragedy

Most of her figure
Settled below sea level;
When the tide came in
The savage undertow sucked
Her sands of time out to sea

Monday, August 4, 2014

Booze Clues

Inspired by the kid’s show Blue’s Clues although I didn’t use the theme song. It’s a verse-chorus thing, with chorus echoes in parentheses. I see this as a music video, with the singing G-Man backed by hillbillies in chains—captured moonshine runners—playing washtub bass, banjo, guitar, and washboard…

I’m a Revenuer’s son
I’m a G-Man by trade
I been tromping ‘round them mountains
Where the moonshine’s getting made
I don’t like them moonshine makers
I destroy their hidden stills
Then I confiscate their whiskey—
It ain’t leaving them thar hills!

Booze Clues (Booze Clues)
Booze Clues (Booze Clues)
Gotta buncha men to help me
Stop them boys from running booze
Booze Clues (Booze Clues)
Booze Clues (Booze Clues)
They can’t hide from me forever
‘Cause I’m out there hunting clues

I can smell that corn mash cooking
From a quarter mile away
I can feel them old stills rumbling
Every night and every day
I can hear your engines revving
When you try to make a run
If I catch you hauling moonshine
You’ll be jailbirds when I’m done

Booze Clues (Booze Clues)
Booze Clues (Booze Clues)
Gotta buncha men to help me
Stop you boys from running booze
Booze Clues (Booze Clues)
Booze Clues (Booze Clues)
You can’t hide from me forever
‘Cause I’m sniffing out the clues

You can run on down to Ma’s,
Or to the church, or Billie Sue’s
But I’m gonna find you anyways—
It’s time to pay your dues!
I’m a Revenuer’s son
Yeah, I’m a G-man through and through
And you’re just a moonshine runner
There ain’t nothing you can do

Booze Clues (Booze Clues)
Booze Clues (Booze Clues)
I gotta buncha men to help me
Stop you boys from running booze
Booze Clues (Booze Clues)
Booze Clues (Booze Clues)
When I’m done, son, you’ll be wishing
You weren’t walking in your shoes
‘Cause my lazy-looking bloodhound
Follows all your smelly clues

Friday, August 1, 2014


Here’s a commercial for a new “convenience food”…

Does lunchtime bore your youngster, dude?
Excitement’s what you need!
Explodibles are the latest fad,
The coolest way to feed!

Just stick them in the microwave
And turn that thing on high,
Then duck and cover, tuck and roll,
And kiss your butt goodbye!

Should you and Junior make it through
And haven’t lost your lunch,
Perhaps you’ll like Explodibles…
If anything’s left to munch!

Wednesday, July 30, 2014


Not great poetry… but it was inspired by great chocolate!

Dark and sweet and oh so yummy,
I want chocolate every day;
Feels so comfy in my tummy.
I like chocolate every way:

Bought in bars or baked from batter,
Chunky chips or creamy smooth,
In a bag or on a platter,
There’s no problem it can’t soothe.

Heartily I sing its praises.
Whether it’s a gift or bought,
Send me two or three more cases.
I like choc-o-late… A LOT!

Monday, July 28, 2014


Deftly wielding His lightning brush,
God mixes the many colors of
His life-giving palette and
Splashes a flickering halo
Behind the fast-moving grey clouds.
His brush now loaded to overflowing,
One broad stroke
Sends a heavy wash of color
Thundering toward the dry ground.
Dry green leaves relax and sparkle;
Sandy dust deepens to muddy red;
Glassy streams surge with His creative juices.
Dormant seeds yawn and stretch toward the freshly-painted sky;
Thirsty wildlife laps at the
Puddling overflow from His palette.
Meanwhile, dull humans clutch their collars,
Scurry for shelter, and
Mutter about the inconvenience.

Friday, July 25, 2014

P. Doggy

My apologies to P. Diddy.
The dog had refused to cooperate every time I took him out.
When we finally embarked on our daily walk
he had to stop so many times I nicknamed him P.Doggy…
and from that came this crazy rap song.

He ain’t been all day
He’s an anxious mutt
He ain’t got no time
To sit and lick his butt
He’s P. Doggy
He’s gotta go P. Doggy

I said, “Hey, P. Doggy!
Wanna go for a walk?”
He drug me straight to the door
He didn’t want no talk
He’s P. Doggy
He’s gotta go P. Doggy

Early on, he wouldn’t wake up
So he missed
Now his eyes are sorta bulging
Gotta let

He’s a spoiled little mongrel
But his rep is good
He takes the lead with his homie
When they’re prowling the ‘hood
He wants his doggy treats straight
From his homeboy’s hand
And likes his water served neat
In a golden pan
He got his doggy license bling
Hanging ‘round his neck
But if he don’t go soon
He’s gonna be a wreck
He’s P. Doggy
He’s gotta go P. Doggy
He’s gonna go P. Doggy
He’s gonna go—

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Giant Steppes

Huns once roamed the steppes of Asia;
In their time, the Mongols too.
Bulgars came, as did the Magyars;
Goths and Sabirs took their due.

Many kingdoms, many peoples,
Many cultures rose and fell.
Nomad pride shaped human history—
Left its mark, then bid farewell.

Horses they domesticated
Soon bore saddles they designed.
Composite bows sprang from their vision;
Soon their neighbors fell behind!

Were their contributions trivial?
He’s a fool who soon forgets
The small leaps made by groups of nomads
As they roamed the giant steppes.

Monday, July 21, 2014

A Prayer for Peas

Dear Lord, my son won’t eat his peas;
He whines so much, I’m on my knees!
I’ve crushed them in his applesauce
And fried them up with yellow squash.
I’ve baked them in blueberry muffins,
Mushed them in the turkey stuffin’,
Hid them in the Cornish hen,
And mixed them with his M&Ms.
It seems, no matter what I try,
He spits them out and starts to cry.
I’m desperate, Lord. Oh, help me please!
My little monster NEEDS his peas!

Friday, July 18, 2014

Creature from the Block Lagoon

“NO!” he snaps when I say playtime’s over
And sweep his pool of Legos to the side.
He sets his jaw, to prove he won’t rollover;
I’m only Dad, and he’s got toddler pride.
He folds his arms across his chest and crouches
As if, somehow, that anchors him in place.
But I’m Almighty Dad! Despite his grouches,
I scoop him up and kiss his frowning face.

He howls about his toys and reaches for them
Despite the fact we’re nearly out the door.
You’d think he’d been condemned and I’m the warden,
The way he squirms and kicks with every roar…
Until he sees that dish of ice cream waiting.
The creature has been tamed! He’s celebrating!

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Assaulted Peanuts

They’re huddled together, safe, deep underground
‘Til ruffians roust ‘em and push ‘em around.
Tossed in a sack, they get carted away
And they never get over what happens that day.
They’re drowned in salt water then thrown in an oven,
Their shells stripped away ‘til they ain’t wearin’ nothin’!
Imprisoned in cans, their despair’s understandable;
Soon they'll wind up ‘twixt some palate and mandible.

Monday, July 14, 2014

Movie Night

Pop the popcorn,
Dim the lights,
Surf the channels…
Gotta find an action flick.
Gotta find a good one.
Gotta have a famous star.
Gotta have a decent plot
(That thins the prospects quite a bit!)
Gotta be commercial-free…
But even then
Nothing suits me.
Guess I’ll pop in the Die Hard DVD
And live to yippee-kai-yay
Another day.

Friday, July 11, 2014

Hello Kiddie

He can’t be more than three years old,
This little ball of fire;
He’s got his nose in everything
And never seems to tire.

He runs around the restaurant;
He stops at every booth.
He smiles real big so everyone
Can see he lost a tooth.

He tilts his head and shouts “Hello!”
Then yells a little louder,
“HELLO!” in case you didn’t hear
Before you spilled your chowder.

Perhaps his parents just don’t care;
Perhaps they urged him on.
But diners here will all rejoice
When Hello Kiddie’s gone.

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

Apart at the Streams

Swiftly flowing down the mountain,
Mighty torrents raging toward the sea
Crash helplessly against
The rocky outcrops thrusting upward
From the canyon floor below.

The currents have a mind of their own,
Resisting any change imposed
By their current course
Toward the sea…
But they struggle in vain,
For even the power of rushing water
Is channeled by unrelenting rock.

In time the mountains may erode,
May crumble away beneath the torrents’ rage…
But not today.
Despite their thunderous flow,
The monolithic rocks ahead
Will smash them into a dozen creeks and rivers,
Each more amenable
To the whims of the rafters
And the tubers
And the fishermen
More concerned with a day’s relaxation
Than the blunt exercise of power.

Monday, July 7, 2014

Fedora Man

He’s a square-jawed classic hero—
Chiseled features, classic tan,
And he whips up on the bad guys.
He’s the star—Fedora Man!

Silhouetted ‘gainst the sunset
He stands tall while others cringe,
While the villain snarls and mutters,
Contemplating his revenge.

After many flashy fight scenes
Sir Fedora saves the day…
Then he smiles towards the ladies,
Taps his brim, and walks away.

How the fellows long to be him!
How the ladies fawn and swoon!
How the movie makers love him!
He’ll be back again… and soon!

Meanwhile, stores can’t keep fedoras
On the shelves. Investors grin;
Normal guys would pay a fortune
Just to be Fedora Men.

Friday, July 4, 2014

Stars in Their Eyes

It’s the Fourth of July. Happy Birthday, America!

Thirteen was the lucky number,
White stars dancing on a field of blue—
But far from blue, these dreamers gazed
Far beyond, stars in their eyes
And hopes for the future.
The path they blazed
Would set the world on fire.

Decades passed; the number grew,
More stars filling the field of blue
As more and more dreamers joined the dance.
New frontiers, more change and challenge,
Tested their resolve…
They took the chance
And somehow made it through.

Fifty is the number now,
Symbolic of the nation’s souls and more
From other lands with dreams the size
Of America, dreams of freedom.
Tough challenges await…
But what a prize
Awaits those reaching for the stars!

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Duel in the Sun

I sit in traffic, idling.
The sun beats down upon my head—
Or rather, on my car.
It might as well be me instead.

The temperature is rising.
I turn the A/C up a bit
And wish the light would change.
It doesn’t; here I sit.

The sweat begins to trickle.
My brow is damp; my eyes are burning.
Slowly traffic moves;
My car makes growls I find concerning.

The heat has made me weak;
I wonder if I’m going to die.
I have no other choice;
I flick the A/C fan to high.

A blast of cold air greets me
But my relief ends very fast.
My car bucks like a bronco;
With one loud bang, it breathes its last.

I’m going to miss my meeting.
Repairs will break the bank again.
But worst of all, the weather’s changed;
I’m stranded and it’s going to rain.

Monday, June 30, 2014

Midyear Vacation

Half a year has come and gone;
Half a year remains.
Soon we’ll learn what twists and turns
This half a year contains—
Turns that bring us wealth and fame,
Twists that test the hardy…
But both can wait until I’ve had
My Fourth of July party!

Friday, June 27, 2014


I’ve been watching short wide movies
On a tall and narrow screen;
I see tall and skinny people
(You all know just what I mean)
Or the picture’s way too little,
Black above it and below—
Gotta buy a widescreen TV
Or to movies I must go.

Now my wall’s a moving picture
Stretching 80 inches wide.
Though my head aches from the eyestrain
(And I’m taking that in stride)
Seems the channel that we’re watching
Wasn’t shot in letterbox
So it’s black on both the edges.
My whole family sits and mocks.

There’s an irony at work here
But I don’t appreciate it
‘Cause we like to watch old TV shows
Whose values are outdated.
It’s no fun to spend a fortune
For the wasted real estate…
Guess I’ll set the zoom to “widescreen”
So the cast looks overweight.

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Butt Fumble

This is the nickname given to an embarrassing turnover play
involving former NY Jets quarterback Mark Sanchez
but it sounds more like a bad date to me…

He grew a bit too amorous.
She soon grew disenchanted
And smacked him when he pinched her rump!
He went home emptyhanded.

Monday, June 23, 2014

Hot Potato

Been watching more soccer…

It’s too hot for any one man to keep to himself.
The potato zips wildly
From one man to another,
Off this one’s foot, off that one’s head;
Contrasting uniforms swirl madly
From one end of the field to the other,
Merging, parting, merging again
While the potato rockets amongst them
Like bumpers in a pinball machine
And the players ring each other's bells

A moment’s pause
And the bedlam resumes
As the tide turns
And the swirl of players
Drifts toward one end of the field,
The potato much too hot
For any one man to keep to himself
But every man hungers for it.
Contrasting uniforms mash awkwardly
As the potato gets lost
In the frenzied scramble

Unless players keep their eyes peeled
For the hot potato
Their team WILL get burned…

Friday, June 20, 2014

All the News That’s Fit to Printout

Our modern world is changing fast
And some lament its speed—
The news is coming at us now
Much faster than we can read.
In fact, it’s faster than we can print!
So I guess it’s no surprise
That the daily paper we used to buy
Is dying before our eyes.

Some folks lament how “days gone by”
No longer mean as much
And the ways we used to stay informed
Just can’t go on as such.
It’s easier now (and cheaper too)
To simply cruise the Web
And have our news delivered with
The speed of a thoroughbred.

The comics page is hard to read
‘Cause the paper’s saving space;
If I want to see how Garfield is,
He’s bigger in cyberspace.
My newsfeed updates by the hour
So I’m never far behind,
And the downtown editor’s just one voice
While blogs share a billion minds.

In the end I suppose that the fit survive
And the rest join the fossil set;
That newsprint’s a fad that’s seen better days
And that trees hope we’ll soon forget.
But when newspapers really do go extinct,
Such a headline will make me sad…
For what will we line the birdcage with
If not with the local rag?

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Down the Amazon

Inspired by the Fifa World Cup being held in Brazil.

Winding its way throughout the countryside,
Teeming with life, competing to live,
Predators and prey alike make their way
Down the Amazon.

Every bend of the river
Every change of the current
Every hour of the day
Brings another unexpected challenge
Which only the strongest survive.

The feeding frenzy begins;
Only the strongest eat their fill
And yet they are not satisfied.
They eat again and again and again—
First the prey,
Then the smallest predators,
Finally those so fat from the frenzy that they never see
The gaping jaws overtaking them…

Only the strongest make their way
Down the Amazon
To the sea where the biggest fish swims without fear.
The Amazon is too small to hold him any longer
And he emerges victorious…

King of the Amazon,
King of the World.
He has reached his GOOOOOL!

Monday, June 16, 2014

Predators in Flux

I eat my tuna sandwich, relieved
That my tuna came packed in a can…
For I hear that a man-eating shark means the same
As a shark eating a man.

Friday, June 13, 2014

POP! Go the Fuses

To the tune of Pop Goes the Weasel, of course.
Here are a few verses, plus the “linking”
verse (labeled {L})—
You know, the one that originally ended
“That’s the way the money goes/POP! goes the weasel.”

All around the neighborhood
The rumbling thunder cruises
The lightning strikes send surges around
POP! go the fuses

{L} A flicker sends us scurrying ‘round
And stumbling ‘bout like stooges
We call the help line right away
POP! go the fuses

The power comp’ny promises help
And gives us all excuses
We wait for hours with nothing to do
POP! go the fuses

When Poppa trips and falls in the dark
He hollers, “What the deuces!?!”
And Momma tells us, “Cover your ears!”
POP! go the fuses

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

An Edgy Birthday Card Verse

Though your sad life nears its climax
And Pa Time slows down his ticking;
Though you ponder obsolescence
And the bucket you’ll be kicking;
Though the Reaper waits in silence
Till you reach the Great Beyond…
Hope you have an Awesome Birthday
Till the fat gal sings her song!

Monday, June 9, 2014

Credit Cards of the Rich and Famous

They’re the cards accepted everywhere.
With names like Mink and Posh and Ruby,
They readily admit that you can never meet their credit limit.

You know it isn’t fair
But they don’t care about your feelings!
The fact that you don’t have one tells them you’re a cash-strapped high-risk dimwit.

They don’t want you at their party.
Bouncers say your payment’s tardy—
Or it WILL be. They all know your kind;
To let you in would be foolhardy!

They’re posing for the paparazzi—
Plastic cards, all flat and sassy,
Sculpting their physiques by doing jumping jacks on your poor wallet.
I’m sure, no matter what you call it,
Mink and friends are antisocial when it comes to folks who aren’t so flashy.

Friday, June 6, 2014


On the edge of something big
On the cusp of something new
Feeling twitchy, nerves on fire
Unexpected options brew

Just can’t put my finger on it
Something’s up—I know it is
Just a feeling—I can’t shake it;
My life tickles from the fizz

“Optimistic” can’t describe it;
Supercharged, I don’t feel tired
Something good is headed my way—
Must be ‘cause I feel so wired

Wednesday, June 4, 2014


My schedule had become so tight
I had no time to cook at night.
Friends offered me a helping hand;
That’s how I learned of BaggieLand.

In BaggieLand the work’s pre-done
And packed in bags that serve just one.
You then select the meal you crave
And pop it in the microwave.

It sounded tailor-made for me
So I went on a shopping spree
For baggies I could quickly pop
In the oven cold and pull out hot.

The next day, while my stomach rumbled,
I wondered, as through bags I bumbled,
What’s IN these bags? I couldn’t tell
For the ice disguised their contents well.

At last I chose a meal at random
And wondered why they hadn’t canned ‘em—
Why, then the labels might be plain
To any hungry scatterbrain!

The first one that I cooked was bad;
The next was worse. This baggie fad
Was not for me. I’m back to canned
‘Cause you starve to death in BaggieLand!

Monday, June 2, 2014

Poopsie Went Too Far

Maybe the neighbors just don’t care.
Their dog dropped by and marked his territory
Right in my flower bed
Then dug it up before he fled.

I didn’t see their mangy mutt
Defile my lovely garden but I’m sure
That he’s the perpetrator
Guilty of this pile and crater.

Towns make leash laws for a reason;
Else it’d soon be open season on those pets
Whose careless families
Don’t protect them from calamities.

Soon his owners will be bawling
‘Cause their Poopsie (as they call him) dropped his tags
Amidst his squalor.
The fines alone will make them holler!
And all my flowers, though they languish,
Will know that others share their anguish.

Friday, May 30, 2014


An acrostic poem—the first letter
of each line spells “unenthused.” Plus,
lines starting with the same letter use the same words.
It even SOUNDS unenthused, doesn’t it?

Unless things pick up around here,
Nobody should
Expect us to stay awake.
Nobody should
Think we even WANT to stay awake.
How can they expect us to stay awake
Unless things pick up around here?
Still, you KNOW the boss will
Expect us to stay awake.
Don’t wake me before five, that’s what I say.

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Joust a Fad, Thankfully

Two large men in heavy armor,
Each upon a mighty steed,
Meet upon the field of battle
After drinking too much mead.

Each one charges toward the other
Brandishing a wooden lance;
Hopes his blow unseats the other,
Knocks him on his iron pants.

This was once considered valiant,
Drove the cultured ladies wild
Though the knights might not survive it.
Why are men so juvenile?

Monday, May 26, 2014

The Squirrel Cliché

To be “bright-eyed and bushy-tailed”
Should mean I feel alright…
But if MY tail was bushy,
I’d just stare in shock and fright!

Friday, May 23, 2014

Overcooked Pork

Sometimes you just have to write a dirty limerick…

Obese gals were Benjamin’s fetish…
And Sally was feeling coquettish.
‘Neath her hectic lovemakin’
Ben sizzled like bacon;
She left him all wrinkled and reddish.

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Squeeze Bottle

Started the day
Full of life—
The pressure came
And I was ready!
Demands from department heads?
No problem.
Demands from the boss?
I looked like a champ…
But the day dragged on
And I started to struggle.
Started to wander;
My best efforts
Came in spurts;
Folks complained.
I didn’t care.
Running on empty,
I dragged on home
Where the love of my life
Demanded attention.
I rolled my eyes…
And gave her the razzberry.

Monday, May 19, 2014

No Title Yet

A blank page lies before me,
Ready for almost anything—
Maybe an epic poem or
Lyrics that cause a heart to sing;
Maybe an ugly doodle or
Tales of depression, tales of woe…
Maybe a list of groceries
Or errands to do before I go.

Maybe I’ll just do nothing,
Carelessly let it go unused
And, when I’m asked why I did it,
Use “I’m too tired” as my excuse.
No matter what the reason,
Pages like this are something vital;
Even if I don’t use it,
This page at least deserves a title.

Friday, May 16, 2014

Mailbox Down

In a cold cold rain
On a wet wet road
A reckless car
Had an episode
With our poor mailbox
At the edge of town.
We had no clue
It would be run down
By a careless man
In a big new Ford—
He flattened it like
A rampaging horde!
We tried to save it,
There in the dark…
But that deadly killer
Had hit his mark;
Now the victim lies
In the cold cold mud
Where that big new Ford
Made a great big THUD.

We’ll put cement blocks
Where our old friend fell
So the next big Ford
Doesn’t fare so well.
The end… of the mailbox.

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Moon in a Blue Sky

The full moon shines in a blue spring sky;
It seems so odd. I don’t know why
The moon is out—it’s a beautiful sight—
But the night’s not here. It’s just not right.

I don’t see the sun but it hasn’t set;
I don’t see the sun but it’s not dark yet.
The sky is blue, the moon is bright
But the night’s not here. It’s just not right!

You’re shaking your head like I’m sniffing glue;
You think I don’t know… but I already do.

Yes, it’s true…
The moon can shine when the sun is bright
And can hide itself in the darkest night.

The night’s not here and it’s just not right
That a blue sky’s lit with a full moon’s light!

Monday, May 12, 2014


I got a long little doggie.
He’s got short little legs.
He gets what he wants
But he never, ever begs.
He’s a barker and a yipper
Who ignores what I say;
A stubborn little nipper
Who demands his own way.
When he’s happy, he’s a fun dog;
When he isn’t, he chews!
But I’ll keep him; he’s the one guy
My girl can’t refuse.

Friday, May 9, 2014

Foot Rub

It’s been a long day
And my dogs are barking;
They’re in need of your attention.
Hey, animal lover!
Won’t you cuddle these puppies?
They’re in pain from so much tension!

Their muscles ache
As they lie and wait;
Hear them whimper when you draw near…
Then they lose their minds
In a bliss sublime
From the footlong orgy here!

I know some prefer
More erotic thrills;
Sucking toes is kinda kinky…
But what turns me on
Are your magic hands
When my dogs are tired and stinky!

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Quarter Horse

Little Tex saunters
Down by the Walmart Corral
Where the quarter horse stands
Waiting for this brave cowpoke to saddle up
And poke a quarter in the slot.
Startled from its quiet slumber
It charges out of the corral,
Bucking like some unbroken bronc
Until it realizes Little Tex can’t be thrown;
Then, its enthusiasm spent,
It refuses to trot one step further.
Little Tex is unhappy… and loudly so.

If Mom and Dad want
Some peace back at the ranch
They’d be better off investing
In a spirited rocking horse,
The kind bred for those long adventures
Across the lonesome prairies
Of Little Tex’s imagination.

Monday, May 5, 2014

May Day

A rustling in the tops of the trees,
Fresh green foliage swaying in the breeze—
The cold nights over at last

Patterns flickering on the ground,
Shadows cast as the sun shines down—
The barren days are past

And the May warmth caresses us,
God’s way of blessing us—
Summer’s coming fast;
Winter’s finally past
And it’s really Spring… at last

Friday, May 2, 2014

The Willies

It’s common for a horror flick
To give us all the Willies—
Those jitters ride our weakened spines
Like nervous studs and fillies!
Don’t ask me why some silly show
Should put us at such ill ease.
A greater question haunts me now:
Why don’t we get the Billies?

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

The Can

It’s occupied by tasty foods
And sodas oh-so-fizzy…
But once digestion runs its course
The can’s where WE get busy.

Monday, April 28, 2014

Cat’s Whisker

A nickname for the main working part of
the first radio receivers. It could easily get out of
adjustment and lose the signal entirely.

She came in and said something
Right in the middle of Big Bang
That I didn’t quite catch
But it was her own fault
For picking such a bad time.
She knows how much I like that show.
Then she got really mad
When I motioned for her to wait
Until the commercial break
And repeat it to me again.
At least I think she was mad
Because when the commercial started
She wasn’t there anymore
But it must not have been important
Or she would have waited to tell me.
Now I’ve lost track of what’s happening
On Big Bang
This had better be important!
Some people are so
Easily distracted…

What were you saying again?

Friday, April 25, 2014

In the Glow of Artificial Candlelight

Their romantic evenings have changed a bit
As the years slip by.
He arrives at the door with a bag of takeout.
He’s feeling frisky; he brought Thai.
She gets the message and sets the good silver
Out by the paper plates;
It’s been a while since they’ve had
A romantic evening. This’ll be great!

After dinner she slips into something more comfortable—
That ugly old pink fleece bathrobe—
Pops a bag of popcorn into the microwave
And channel surfs for the latest episode
Of… what was that show called?
Oh, never mind. Die Hard is on again.
The action should get his motor running
And John McClane is her kind of man.

They dim the lights and munch
Together from the same bowl
And he makes no effort
To use the remote control.
Flickering multicolored explosions dance
Across their contented faces
As they cuddle together in one of
Life’s least-appreciated graces.

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Training Camp

NFL teams began OTAs (organized team activities),
the prelude to formal training camps, this week.
Everybody’s confidence is so high right now…

We ain’t sure our team is ready
We ain’t sure we know our parts
We ain’t had no chance to practice
Won’t be long till the season starts

We don’t want to be the losers
We don’t bow to last year’s champ
We don’t like our fans to boo us
Time to head to our training camp

Every day we work our butts off
Every day we sweat and ache
Every day our goals seem clearer
We’re convinced we’ve got what it takes

And once we’ve got our chemistry flowing
Once we’ve learned to “ground and pound”
Once we’ve hit the season running…
We’ll pray our dreams don’t get shot down

Monday, April 21, 2014

Hair of the Dog

My dog leaves his hair everywhere
And it drives me to tears of despair:
When a man sheds his hair
His pate shines like a flare
While a dog never ever goes bare.

Now, I try to pretend I don’t care
But it irks me, and sometimes I swear
‘Cause he’s so unaware
When he sheds on a chair
Or my clothes or the rug. It’s unfair!

As my hairs grow increasingly rare
And my coiffure gives way to thin air,
I think Fido should share
My distress. Do I dare
Tell the groomer to shave his head bare?

Friday, April 18, 2014

Executing God’s Plan

God had a plan from Genesis onward—
A plan from before the world began,
A plan designed to correct the destruction
Unleashed by His selfish creature, Man.

Through prophets of old, He wrote it down
So His people would know that God still cares,
That He wanted to help them, to break sin’s power
With a plan more ambitious than men would dare.

“My Plan will set you free,” He said,
“If you’ll follow Him like the other twelve.”
But men stood their ground and refused to yield…
Then they executed God’s Plan themselves.

The sky turned black and the city shook
As the Plan hung, posted on a manmade tree
For all to see, a story unfinished
As yet… but people still wouldn’t read.

And that’s how it goes. God spins His tale
Though men and devils still vent their rage
Against His story but God writes on…
And He will till He writes the final page.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Lent’s End

Many religious traditions don’t eat meat—
and specifically not pork— during Lent.

It started with a Mardi Gras;
It ends with hallelujah.
You ready for some bacon now?
A little slab’ll do ya.

Monday, April 14, 2014

Eggstreme Truths

This week I’m doing verses about
different aspects of Easter.
This one intentionally sounds a bit strange
since the Easter Sensei is a bit strange himself…

Since we live in a world that’s more urban than rural,
The Easter egg paints a bewildering mural.
Does it leave you perplexed, more than words can say?
Then just heed these thoughts from the Easter Sensei:

This egg symbolizes a new life begun.
We boil it till nothing’s alive when we’re done
Then we dye it to make it a bright shiny color
‘Cause a plain white boiled egg really couldn’t be duller.

An Easter egg will never hatch—
Not once, no matter how large the batch.
If you find an Easter egg that peeps,
Leave it alone! It’s NOT for keeps!

Once we’ve dyed all the eggs, we head out to some storefront
And buy hollow shells for the kids’ Easter egg hunt.
Plastic eggs full of sweets are the choice of this brood
Because kids prefer candy instead of real food.

In parting, you may ask:
Are Easter eggs all that they’re cracked up to be?
That depends, my young pupil. Do you want lunch?
Then maybe.

Friday, April 11, 2014

Someone Shot the Basketball

Someone shot the basketball
And now our team can’t play.
They all just stand around and stare
At where that flat thing lay.
We thought we’d have a friendly game—
We’re sitting ‘round instead
‘Cause someone shot the basketball
And now the poor thing’s dead.

Yes, someone shot the basketball…
But what harm had it done?
It’s true the team was pretty bad;
Still, we had lots of fun.
At least, I did. I laughed a lot
When others played the fool
And did a faceplant on the court
While I made moves so cool…

Hmmmm… Perhaps they shot the basketball
‘Cause I was much too good.
Perhaps the ball would not be flat
Had I but understood
Humiliation isn’t fun.
I wonder—could it be—
That someone shot the basketball
Instead of shooting me?

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

Area Rug

Should I call this slapstick haiku?

That bucking bronco
Threw me when I mounted it;
Now my saddle’s sore

Monday, April 7, 2014


The barbeque that Jimmy made
was much too hot to eat.
The sauce he used could char raw pork,
it put out so much heat!
He served it to a bunch of friends
with cole slaw and potatoes.
They screamed and all their faces turned
as red as fresh tomatoes!

Jim’s recipe grew famous as
the casualties piled higher,
and soon it won a contest when
a taster caught on fire.
But plans to start a fast food chain
called “Porkenstein’s” soon failed—
the buildings couldn’t stand the heat
and Jim’s plans were derailed.

Some likened Jim to Frankenstein—
both madmen tempting fate
with doomed creations meeting ends
that left most folks irate.
But unlike Dr. Frankenstein,
Jim’s dreams were merely jive…
For though both saw their monsters fry,
At least Frank’s was alive.

Friday, April 4, 2014

Feng Shui

Feng shui (pronounced fung shway) is a Chinese practice
that is supposed to “balance the energies” of a given area
so people living and working there will be better off.

The front door’s hanging crooked and
The kitchen window sticks;
The bathroom floor is sagging—
I should prob’bly get that fixed.
But my neighbor’s into feng shui
And she says to let it be
‘Cause these flaws in house construction
Will create a happier me.

She hung mirrors in the hallway.
Now I scare myself each day
When I step out of my bedroom
'Cause there’s someone in my way.
There’s more clutter in the stairwell
‘Cause she added potted plants
And a motherload of ladybugs
To fill my bed and pants.

Now, perhaps in ancient China
Feng shui made one wise and rich…
But in my world, all it’s done is
Make my family cry and bitch.
So if you’re a true believer
And not one whose moods are faddish,
You can buy my feng shui mansion—CHEAP!
(The ladybugs come gratis.)

Wednesday, April 2, 2014


Somehow the simplicity of haiku says it best…

A sunny spring day
After the long winter night;
Lounging on the porch

Monday, March 31, 2014

Lord of the Rungs

Based on the Bible story of “Jacob’s Ladder”
in Genesis 28:10-22. Some newer translations
call it a stairway, which is probably where
Led Zepp got the idea for Stairway to Heaven.
I tried to make this sound like an old folk poem.
Btw, Bethel means “house of God.”

While Jacob stretched out on the ground,
A rock beneath his head,
He slipped into a sleep so deep
You’d think that he was dead.

And in his dreams a stream of angels
Traveled up and down
Along a giant ladder hung
‘Twixt heaven and the ground.

There, gazing down from far above,
The Lord to him did speak:
“I am the Lord. I give to you
The land on which you sleep.

"Through you and all your progeny
The whole earth I will bless,
And I’ll protect and care for you
Wherever you may rest.”

When Jacob woke, he bowed and said,
“The Lord is in this place!
If God will love and care for me,
I’ll always seek His face.”

So Jacob built a pillar there
That used his pillow stone,
And called this new land Bethel
Where God called him as His own.

Friday, March 28, 2014

The Second Half (Sanitized Version)

A lament for sport fans with young kids
watching their team lose BIG.
(Like they don’t know what you REALLY mean…)

When things go bad
It takes too long.
You want it to stop
But it just keeps on.
It wears you out
But what can you do?
Your team got beat…
And you feel like Pooh.

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Angry Birds

It all began with one little tweet—
A few frustrated pecks at a keyboard
Echoing through an empty cyber sky.

It was a fowl sound
That never should have been uttered…
But a note once tweeted
Can never be called back.

Other birds took up the song,
Each louder and more discordant
    than the last.
The noise summoned hungry birds of prey,
Hunting simply because they could.
They didn’t even eat
What they killed.

In the end
The unsuspecting victims were forgotten
While the vultures gloated together
    over the carcasses.
Alfred Hitchcock would have been proud;
He knew how terrifying angry birds can be.

Monday, March 24, 2014

The Cult of the Sacred Undergarment

I have no idea what could have spawned
this creed, this “statement of belief,”
but the whole concept made me laugh. Hard.

We, the wearers of the sacred undergarment,
Gather as one in this communal laundry
To celebrate our dedication to morality
Despite the discomfort it may cause us.

For we know that society cannot long endure
Without those who stand against moral looseness.
Indeed, it is human to rebel against restraint!
Who among us has not felt the desire to be free?
Who among us has not suffered grievously for our beliefs?
And yet we soldier on, undeterred by the temptation
To throw off these restraints
And live with licentious abandon.
Our reward shall be the greater for our suffering.

Be it known that all are welcome to this assembly—
Be they opulent boxers or puritanical briefs;
Be they staid panties or decadent bikinis;
Be they common cotton, slippery spandex,
     or the rarest of silks.
All are welcome to this assembly
For we know that all may achieve
A state of perfect holeyness
If with endurance they perform
     their appointed duties. Amen.

Friday, March 21, 2014

The Cockroach

It's good to remember that everybody has a weakness...

Some say that the cockroach will grow and thrive
Though nobody else remains alive.
Perhaps Armageddon won’t sound their knell…
But wait till they check in a roach motel!

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Gone with the Win

March Madness comes in like a lion each year
And goes out like a lamb to the slaughter.
No matter how good all our picks seem to be,
Our brackets don’t work like they oughter.

The top seeds get bounced by the lower seed teams;
Our favorites fall by the way.
No matter how thorough our research may be,
Our picks lose with one stupid play.

And that’s when the bitching and moaning will start
As more brackets get tossed in the can…
But not me! Once my home team is out of the hunt,
Like Rhett Butler, I won’t give a damn.

Monday, March 17, 2014

Unful-Phil-ed Expectations

Although I do a number of limericks on another blog,
I think this is the first one I’ve done here.
It’s dedicated to that insufferable Punxsutawney Phil.

Phil the Groundhog has left us all glum;
It’s been six weeks but spring hasn’t come.
Though his fur-covered form
May keep most of him warm,
I sure hope his damned shadow is numb.

Friday, March 14, 2014

The Snack Pit

I’d like to lose the extra weight
I gained from all the food I ate
But there’s no chance of getting fit
When I fall in the snack pit.
I pass it every day at work…
But every day, just like a jerk,
I never pass it by at all—
The snack pit sounds its siren call.

The rattlesnacks surround me there.
Their vibrant crinkle fills the air
And soon I’m eating left and right,
A victim of their salty bite.
And though I’m not a health food nut
(You’d know that if you saw my gut)
The gardensnacks are fresh and new…
So soon I eat the fruit bars too.

I know I won’t escape today;
There’s danger all along my way.
The snack pit’s in the central place
Where all us rats are forced to race.
The gardensnacks are there, I fear;
The rattlesnacks are drawing near…
And me? I’ll stop and stuff and grouse
Until I’m bigger than a house.

Wednesday, March 12, 2014

A Rhyme Takes Time

When Dr. Seuss was on the loose
And writing his crazy verse,
Many a bard was quite inspired—
Although their verse was worse!
Aspiring poets may not know it
But poetry’s hard work;
It takes some time to make things rhyme
And not sound like a jerk.

So should we shun the eager one
Whose verse is a little rough?
Should we refuse to be amused
And tell him “That’s enough”?
That isn’t wise. Let’s not despise
The struggling poet’s work;
He may persevere till his work draws cheers…
And then WE’d be the jerks.

Monday, March 10, 2014

My Daddy Drives a Spaceship

Inspired by the Audi commercial
My Dad Is an Alien.

My Daddy drives a spaceship;
It’s a Star Wars kind of craft.
When Princess Mama mentions it
She tries hard not to laugh.

He says it was a new ship once,
A shiny cabriolet
He bought in a galaxy long ago
And oh so far away.

But now it’s just a hunk of junk…
Or so it seems to me.
It’s seen too many Kessel Runs
And flights from Tattooine.

We tried a jump to hyperspace
To join the traffic flow.
Instead, we got that clunky sound
That means the ship won’t go.

The hairy guy at Joe’s Garage
Just smiled as we pulled in;
He knew my Daddy’s spaceship
Needed lots of work again.

They’re always working on his ship,
That Wookie and his boys.
They know he’ll never part with it—
It’s Daddy’s pride and joy.

But Princess Mama’s not amused.
She said she’s not a dodo
And next time Daddy flies his ship,
He’ll have to do it Solo.

Friday, March 7, 2014

The World of Tomorrow

The world of tomorrow’s a wonderful place:
When it comes, life will move at a less hectic pace.
We won’t have to cook; we’ll just swallow a pill.
We won’t have to work; robot slaves have the skill.
Our cars will all fly and they won’t ever crash.
We won’t have pollution; we’ll reuse our trash.
We’ll have no more sickness, we’ll have no more war—
No matter your pet peeve, we’ll have it NO MORE.
We know this because the world fairs of the past
Have predicted this future is coming… and fast!
Oh yes, I’ll admit that their timing was off
And it’s caused so-called “realists” to snicker and scoff
But it’s coming! It is! You just have to believe
That we humans aren’t selfish, we’re never naïve,
And we’ll never make choices we’ll live to regret.
Doesn’t history show that’s a pretty safe bet?
Yes, the world of tomorrow’s a wonderful place—
So go wipe that smirk off your skeptical face.

Wednesday, March 5, 2014


Some people say the dinosaur
     evolved into a chicken.
It seems to me that, if that’s true,
     the plot has merely thickened
‘Cause wouldn’t giant chickens be
     a goal for modern breeders?
They’d be a revelation
     for those truly hardcore eaters!
Forget the monster burgers…
     they could order monster legs!
But could you eat a breakfast
     with a single scrambled egg?
Your pool-sized crock pot might take days
     to get that stewed bird done;
You wouldn’t order chicken wings—
     you’d only order one!
Commercials starring Chickasaurus Rex
     would be amazin’—
The cows that shill for Chic-Fil-A
     would not act quite so brazen.
But if hens come from dinosaurs,
     I hope they don’t revert
‘Cause if they put the bite on us
     I’m pretty sure it’d hurt.

Monday, March 3, 2014

Stomping on Tokyo Town (aka Godzilla’s Tokyo)

To the tune of the Red Hot Chili Peppers’
Under the Bridge. The song is interesting to me
because the original doesn’t really have a rhyme scheme.

Sometimes I’m bored with destroying this city
Sometimes I feel like the movie should end
With the city still standing
The city of Tokyo
Weary as I am
I stomp her again

I stomp on her streets ‘cause
I don’t fit her sidewalks
I rip up her trains ‘cause
They get in my way
She greets me with tanks
But her efforts are wasted
Weary as I am
They’re no more than flies

I don’t understand her will
She won’t last the day
Tokyo will be landfill
When I’m done today

It’s hard to believe but
The people rebuild her
I knock her back down and
They do it again
It doesn’t make sense
But it gives me a purpose
Weary as I am
I kiss her bye-bye

And I don’t understand her will
She won’t last the day
Tokyo will be landfill
When I’m done today

Stomping on Tokyo Town
The people run away
Stomping on Tokyo Town
The buildings fall away
Stomping on Tokyo Town
There’s not much more to say
Stomping on Tokyo Town
I gave ‘em hell today

Friday, February 28, 2014

Once Upon a Dumpling

Funny how a different look
can change your life. Now, take this cook…

Long ago
her ball of dough
was looking kinda lowly.

With a splat
she smashed it flat
and made a ravioli !

I think the lesson’s plain to see—
imagination’s all you knead.

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Clown Car

Some of the new “city cars” remind me
of a super small clown car
that’s supposed to hold an impossible
number of clowns inside.

My bank account was empty
And my ride was ‘bout to fail
So I went down to the circus
Where the clown cars were on sale.
A salesman with a big red nose
Was making lots of deals
On a lot of little tiny cars
With little tiny wheels.

“I think,” he said, “this car’s for you.
It has a lovely horn
And it’s brand new from the factory—
The seats are barely torn.”
Then, seeing I was skeptical,
He said, “Let’s take a spin.
Just stand right here and hold your breath
Until I zip you in.”

We rumbled ‘round the circus lot
With four more folks inside
(As well as fifteen blue balloons
And a seal dressed like a bride).
“And why are all these people here?”
I asked. The salesman drawled,
“You can’t have lots of legroom
If you got no legs to haul!”

The dealers said they’d keep them all
Except one guy named Jack;
They said his presence was required
In case I had a flat.
I didn’t buy the clown car, though;
Besides a faulty clutch,
That stupid horn was far too sharp
And the rhino ate too much.

Monday, February 24, 2014

Slalom Course

When a skier "loses his edge," the literal edge of the ski
loses its grip on the snow and just skids out from under him.

Alarm sounds
            and I’m out of the gate—
bobbing and
the obstacles in my path
                        as I face the day.
         Who stuck that flag way over
          I’m barely making it
                         but I’m still gaining speed
          and I don’t know
how I can possibly
          stay on my feet.
                          I’m afraid
          I’m losing my edge
                          and I’m about
to go down
          but somehow I keep going.
                          No medal
awaits me at the
                                      end of the
                          just a cup of coffee and,
           if I’m lucky,
                                      a good night’s sleep.
But at least I finished;
Some days
that’s the best I can hope for.

Friday, February 21, 2014

The Cleansing Power of Soap

It’s been a while since I tried a haiku.
I’d forgotten how hard they can be…
This one took maybe fifteen tries.

Swiftly swirling suds
Gurgle their way down the drain;
Now the tub’s dirty

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Tape Measure

I guess the Olympics have me thinking
more about success and failure.

The struggling runner staggers to
the line and breaks the tape.
The cheering fans hop up and down
and tell him that he’s great.
But what about the ones who lost,
the ones who fell behind?
Although they did their very best,
their treatment’s not as kind.

In any competition,
only one can take the prize
but rarely do we celebrate
the others. Is that wise?
For most of us, a victory
may not be in the cards.
Without enough encouragement
we may not try as hard.

Although the tape’s a worthy goal,
perhaps it’s not enough
to keep the whole field pushing
when the competition’s tough.
So while I’m not suggesting that
the winner get less fame,
remember there’s another part:
“…it’s how you play the game.”

Monday, February 17, 2014

Olympic Fail

On some days, things go bad for me;
On other days, it’s worse.
And when my friends are there to watch,
It makes me want to curse.
I hate to fail but I can deal
With that—it’s commonplace.
Embarrassment’s a different thing…
I don’t like losing face.

So how do our Olympians
Survive the scrutiny?
To fail in front of billions
Sounds like suicide to me!
I don’t know how they get back up
And face the test again;
I’m not sure I could do the same
If I were one of them.

So I salute the multitude
Of failed Olympians
Who slipped or took a face plant
But got right back up again.
It’s folks like them who let us see
That failure’s not the end;
It’s just a blip that happens when
You’re good enough to win.

Friday, February 14, 2014

I Don’t Heart You Anymore

Some sappy verse for Valentine’s Day.

Folks used to say “I love you”;
Now “I heart you” is the rage.
It’s tossed about so carelessly…
Perhaps this shows my age
But it feels a little insincere;
Why not just say you’re mine?
Why won’t you take a risk on me
And lay it on the line?

I know that love’s a scary thing;
You could end up rejected.
True lovers always run that risk;
A real heart’s unprotected.
A heart worn on your T-shirt’s
Not a heart worn on your sleeve
And it’s not the same commitment;
If you think so, you’re naïve.

I’m tired of being hearted.
Give me what I’m dreaming of—
Give me something more substantial
Than a bumper sticker love!
Go, feel free to heart your pizza
Or vacation or New York
But I need to hear the “L” word—
I don’t heart you anymore.

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

The Snowman Cometh

Predictions say our biggest snowstorm in years
is headed toward us—perhaps as much as 13 inches.
[sigh] Sometimes I hate snow…

The weather is getting colder.
The weatherman says there’s a big storm comin’.
I’m really not into winter;
I don’t like my toes or my fingers numbin’!
There’s nothing that we can do;
How deep will it bury us? That’s an unknown.
Hawaii sure sounds inviting;
I’m ready to journey into the unsnown.

Monday, February 10, 2014

No Mo’ Dodo

Since I mentioned the dodo in my last poem…

The Dodo bird has been extinct
Three centuries or so.
It looked just like… well, actually,
Nobody seems to know!

Its island home was far removed
From men when sailors found it;
It might have thought its future
Possibilities unbounded!

But in a mere one hundred years
They’d shed this mortal coil
And left us little evidence
To show what we’d despoiled.

We’ve got some sketches, written notes,
And fossils, little more.
We don’t know how they sounded,
How they lived along the shore.

We muse about their social lives;
We wonder what they ate.
This dearth of information leaves
Too much to speculate.

We think the bird was three feet tall,
Some sort of giant pigeon…
But there’s one thing we’ll never know:
Did dodos taste like chicken?

Friday, February 7, 2014

The Apteryx

Technically, this is the genus of the kiwi bird but
I first learned the name from the comic strip B.C.
BTW, the kiwi is the national symbol of New Zealand
and is a protected species.

Sometimes I feel like an apteryx,
A wingless bird with hairy feathers.
I flap but it’s a fruitless task;
Attempting flight results in headers.
At least I have a lot of friends
Who think my loss would be a no-no
So I’m content. Things would be worse
Had I been born a wingless dodo!

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

Porcelain Swirl

I never thought I’d write a verse about flushing a toilet
but we’re always up for a challenge, right?
Don’t worry, it’s not nasty in any way—the verse, that is.

It’s an oval receptacle,
Typically white,
Where things you don’t talk about
Swirl out of sight.

Just pull on the handle—
That dizzying swoosh
Ensures that your family
Won’t think you’re a douche!

If it keeps right on running,
You might need a mop;
If you jiggle the handle,
Perhaps it will stop.

Just an oval receptacle,
Typically white;
One visit can help you sleep
All through the night.

Monday, February 3, 2014


The animal kingdom is bursting with swag—
The antlers that crown all the mating-age stags,
The colorful spread of the male peacock’s fan,
And the heavy gold chains of the skirt-chasing man.

But horns help that stag in its quest for a mate
And birds flash those feathers to help them get laid.
The guys with the chains find that ladies just mock ‘em;
A pawn shop’s the place for those chains, boy—just hock ‘em!

Friday, January 31, 2014

The Origin of Football

If you want to “toss around the old pigskin…”

Pa sent young Jimmy to the sty
To fetch a hog for dinner;
They’d have a bunch of chops and ham
And bacon once he skint ‘er!

But Jim come squalling, “Pa! Hey, Pa!
They stole our smallest hog!
And I seen footsteps in the mud —
They lead off through the fog.”

Pa grabbed his hat. “Dang nabbit, boy!
What took y’all so long?
Go get the boys; we’ll track ‘em down
Before the thieves git gone!”

So Jimmy rounded up his kin;
Pa grabbed some shotgun rounds.
Eleven of ‘em started out
With Blue, their rabbit hound.

Old Blue went baying down the trail
With Jimmy close behind;
Pa struggled just to keep up as
He led the other nine.

At least the fog was lifting as
They got down to the valley.
Pa hollered, “There’s the critters, boys!
Come on — don’t dilly dally!”

Eleven of the Johnson boys
Was headed for their farm.
The oldest, Donny, had that piggy
Tucked beneath his arm.

Old Blue cut off them Johnson boys!
He snarled and Donny moaned
While Jimmy, Pa, and all the boys
Got ‘twixt the thieves and home.

The Johnsons started hollering:
“Give us this hog… or else!”
But once Pa cocked his shotgun,
All the Johnsons stopped their yells.

Then Bubba (one of Donny’s kin)
Went running ‘round the end.
“Hey, throw it here!” he hollered as
He flashed a toothy grin.

So Donny flung that hog at him
Without a moment’s thought
And, muddy though that pig’s skin was,
Somehow that hog got caught!

“YEE HAW!” yelled Bubba gleefully
As he headed for the barn.
Jim’s brother Jed came running in
And slammed a stiff forearm

Right to his chin and down they went,
Both sprawling in the mud…
But the hog went sailing through the air
And landed with a thud.

Now Jimmy’s brother Homer
Scooped him up and ran for home.
Some other kin surrounded him,
Prepared to break some bones.

As Jimmy’s kin lined up to face
The Johnsons, opposite
Each other on the battlefield,
Pa told ‘em, “This is it!

“Now, Jimmy, you go ‘round the left
And Jed, you take the right
While Homer runs it up the gut.
Them Johnsons ain’t too bright!”

And meanwhile Bubba organized
His brothers in a line.
They squatted down, prepared to lunge
And grab that tiny swine!

The Johnson girls came out to watch
And cheer their menfolk on.
The field was getting muddier;
The day was nearly gone.

Possession of that hog went back
And forth and back again
As more and more folks came to watch
This game no one could win.

At last all twenty-two men fell
Exhausted to the ground.
The little hog? It ran back to
Its ma without a sound.

The crowd helped everybody up
And said, “Wow, what a thrill!
But next time, sell refreshments —
Maybe bring a moonshine still!”

But neither side would try again.
This first game really cost ‘em —
For weeks they lived in dirty clothes
‘Cause Mama wouldn’t wash ‘em!

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Give ‘Em the [Foam] Finger

The Seattle Seahawks fans hold the world record
for loudest sound — over 137 decibels.

Thousands of football fans scream in the bleachers
Waving foam fingers, waving ‘em high;
Dozens of fingers, hundreds of fingers,
Thousands of fingers point to the sky —
Some of ‘em wagging, some of ‘em thrusting,
Some of ‘em helping keep chilly hands warm!
There must be thousands of crazy fan customs;
Why did this odd one become the fan norm?
Could have been noise makers like vuvuzelas.
(Up in Seattle they’re already deaf!)
But I think the reason’s most likely survival —
Foam makes it hard to beat rivals to death!

Monday, January 27, 2014

Bar-B-Q (aka Barbeque)

This week I’ll be writing Super Bowl stuff!
Here’s a song parody for those tailgate parties
at the Super Bowl, based on
Credence Clearwater Revival’s classic Suzie Q.

Oh Bar-B-Q, Oh Bar-B-Q,
Oh Bar-B-Q smoker, we love you

We love your hick’ry smoke
You never make us choke
We love your hick-ry smoke
You never make us choke, Bar-B-Q

We’ll keep your heat down low
We’ll keep your heat down low
We’ll keep your heat down low
And smoke you nice and slow, Bar-B-Q

We’ll give you lots of time
We’ll give you lots of time
We’ll give you lots of time
To cook our ribs so fine, Bar-B-Q


Games may be second rate
But you are always great
Games may be second rate
But you are always great, Bar-B-Q


Friday, January 24, 2014

A Few Degrees Short

With all the cold weather, I started to wonder
what an overdrawn weather account might be like…

I meant to go play golf today;
the sun was shining bright.
But when I stepped outside the door
the weather wasn’t right.
I saw icicles on the trees
and all the ground was white;
I shivered as I felt the teeth
of winter’s icy bite.

Inside, I snuggled by the fire
and called my weatherman
to try and get some answers fast.
If he can’t help, who can?
“What happened to my balmy day?
I had a golf trip planned,
not riding on a dog sled through
this Arctic no-man’s-land!”

My weatherman hurrumphed his throat
and said, “My records show
your warmth account is overdrawn.
The temperature’s below
our normal daily average
because of what you owe.
It seems you’re short a few degrees.
You’re lucky it’s just snow.”

I slammed the phone down in disgust.
I didn’t want to hear
how my account was negative
so early in the year!
I’ve only used a few good days
to help my mind get clear
from all the crap we’ve had at work.
This seems a bit severe!

I understand I’ll have another
month or two of this
before they get the balance straight.
My rampant avarice
has messed up weather everywhere,
from Cali to Ole Miss…
but it’s always nice on X-box.
Hope they don’t count cyber hits!

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Chamber of Commerce

I was looking through a book of slang
and discovered that “chamber of commerce”
used to be a slang term for the toilet.
Things went downhill from there…

Visitors are welcome at the Chamber of Commerce.
We help our local workers get their daily duties done.
There’s just so much to do and there’s so little time to do it—
Everybody’s always on the run.

Everybody’s headed for our Chamber of Commerce;
People come and go all day… but mostly, they just go!
Our neighborhood’s a busy place and everyone’s got problems;
Ending their distress is our goal.

It’s just another workday at the Chamber of Commerce
With lots of pressing business needs, so won’t you step this way?
Take your place in line, my friend, and please don’t dilly-dally;
Folks are in a hurry today.

Monday, January 20, 2014

Mice with Swords

An experiment: A standard rhyme scheme
with no regular line length or meter.

It’s a standard of so many fantasy tales:
A valiant mouse with rapier wit
Discovers an actual rapier
And fights for the animals’ benefit.

It’s just his size, of course.
With it, he goes out righting wrongs
And becomes a mighty hero,
Worshipped by all the animal throngs.

I always wonder who made them,
These tiny toothpick swords
That armed not only the hero mouse
But also the evil enemy hordes.

Was there once a society
Of incredibly talented mouse smiths
Who forged the magic blades
That became the focus of mouse myths?

Where are all the little mouse smithies
With little mouse anvils and little mouse torches?
What happened to all the little mouse guilds
Where mice trained to run those little mouse forges?

What happened to the thriving trade
That made it profitable to forge the things?
And why only swords? Why not axes
Or maces or other simpler weapons to swing?

But worst of all, how could they forget
All the far-ranging battles
That made it necessary to forge
So many bucklers to rattle?

A whole society lost without a trace,
Leaving only skeptic mice in its wake.
The logic behind it makes no sense…
Yet some mouse found a sword. It makes my head ache.

Friday, January 17, 2014

You Can Take This Job and Shovel It

Once upon a dung heap, growing
Daily as my boss kept throwing
Workers underneath the bus,
    The word came: My career was done.
Soon he called me to a meeting
Where there was no use in pleading;
Even if I’d made a fuss
    The odds I’d win were next to none.
    Soon my job was jettisoned.

Though my resume looked pretty
And at interviews I’m witty,
Economics ruled the day;
    An opening I could not find.
In my field, no help was needed.
Painfully, I soon conceded
I should find another way
    To fatten up my bottom line
    Before my payments fell behind.

In the want ads I discovered
A position for horse lovers.
Pail and shovel I would wield —
    At least the job would be secure.
Like my former daily grind,
I still begin each day behind!
I’ve learned, no matter what your field,
    Our force of workers would be fewer
    If most fields weren’t filled with manure.

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

The Crater Good

Supposedly an asteroid
impacted in the Yucatán
and ended dinosaurian dominion.
This mass extinction left a void
that one day would be filled by man —
at least, that’s the predominant opinion.

Now sixty million years or so
have passed since “Thunder Boulder” struck
and nearly left the earth depopulated.
But since that time, we’ve lots to show!
Although some say it’s merely luck,
new forms of life appeared and copulated.

So when your future’s looking bad —
the bull’s-eye for an earthbound stone —
Just think about those frightened little mice
who, once preyed on by saurian cads,
now found that Earth was theirs to roam!
Disasters sometimes lead to paradise…

Unless you’re a dinosaur, that is.

Monday, January 13, 2014


I got a lot of energy
But I don’t know what to do
That’s how it is sometimes

On other days my mind is clickin’
But I’m too tired to act
That’s how it is sometimes

Things start really jumpin’
When I get ‘em both at once
Neutrons start firin’
Things get done
Life’s excitin’

If I want a life worth livin’
I know the road to take
It’s not confusin’

When my drive meets my idea
The power gets unleashed
The collision of the two creates fusion

Stars are fueled by fusion
I want to be a star
I need fusion

Friday, January 10, 2014

P.J. Bottom

One of those silly ideas that just begs to be written…
primarily so you can get it out of your head!
Just for the record, it probably didn't really happen this way...

Hey, have you heard the stirring drama
Of how we wound up with pajamas?

Long ago, in days of old,
Folks wore nightshirts. Knees got cold!

Then along came P.J. Bottom,
Inventor of sleepers. People bought ‘em!

Grownups soon cut off the feet,
Making long johns. Pretty sweet!

The one-piece top was next to go.
(Some guys preferred their pecs to show.)

The “trap door” was no longer needed —
Just drop your drawers before you’re “seated”!

A short nightshirt came back in fashion.
The pairing of the two was dashin’!

And that’s the tale of how we got ‘em…
Thanks to the genius of P.J. Bottom!

Wednesday, January 8, 2014

I’m Peeling Wood

It’s a big hit on the Woodland Top 40!
Here’s a beaver’s rendition of
Michael Bublé’s I’m Feeling Good.
(In case you didn’t know, beavers don’t eat wood;
they just peel off the underbark and eat that.)

Birch on the shore
You know how I feed
Bark I adore
You know how I feed
Chewed right off the core
You know how I feed
I got no saw
I got no adze
I got no knife with me
But I’m peeling wood
I’m peeling wood

So many trees
You know how I feed
Sweet willows like these
You know how I feed
I eat what I please
You know how I feed
I got no saw
I got no adze
I got no knife with me
But I’m peeling wood

Cottonwoods warmed in the sun
They know what I need, don’t you know
Thick juicy bark — yummy yum!
Such a joy when I feed
Naked trunks when I get done
Got all I need
Any rough glade
Is enough, hey
What a buffet for me
For me

Tough outer sheath
Won’t stop how I feed
The good stuff’s beneath
And it’s waiting for me
Just give me sharp teeth
I’ll have plenty to eat
I got no saw
I got no adze
I got no knife
I got no saw
I got no adze
I got no knife
I got no saw
I got no adze
I got no knife
I got no knife with me
But I’m peeling wood
I’m peeling wood
And I peel it good
I peel it good

Monday, January 6, 2014

Ode to a Wimpy Little Snack Cracker

Behold, thou flimsy cracker!
Thou art but a tiny square of wheat
    or rye
    or millet
    or some such humble flour,
Yet thou art embraced warmly
    by the most distinguished of partygoers!

Tell me, O brittle wafer:
What madness possessed thee,
    that thou didst aspire to the buffet?
Thou art little more than glorified hardtack.
Thy form is too rigid for he who nibbles;
    a single bite causeth thee to shatter.
Yet thou drapest thyself
In the most embarrassing of toppings,
    that thou mayest soil his attire
    with the greatest of ceremony.

O most tantalizing of snacks!
Despite thy fragile nature,
    still will I celebrate thy brazen tastiness.
For the love of thee I humiliate myself,
Even unto the wearing of a bib in public
    that, despite thy flamboyant splatterings,
    yet may I savor thy zesty garnishes unscathed.
And should we meet by chance,
And I be unprepared for thy presence,
    yet shall I risk the disdain of those around me
    and shove thee whole into my mouth
Rather than pass thee by.