Monthly Archives: November 2014

A Likely Story

Venus shone in the Eastern sky
Where Captain Terry liked to fly.
He looped some loops in his F-16
‘Round where the planet could be seen.

The daring pilot’s heart alight,
He dreamed of love throughout his flight,
For due West his love, elated,
For her pilot had awaited.

But as he spun beneath the sun
One of his engines said “I’m done,”
And so the pilot returned West
At a pace much quicker than was best.

His lover from the hangar did stare.
Of the Captain’s plight she was unaware.
His awesome dive did make her swoon.
“Come home Terry. Come home soon.”

And now his second engine blew
From the strain of working enough for two.
And so one thousand stories high
Captain Terry ceased to fly.

He plummeted like public approval
After a popular thing’s removal,
And with Venus as his guiding light
He ejected his seat into the night.

This almost-dying was new to Terry.
Was he nervous? Oh yes! Very!
He reached for his parachute’s rip cord,
Yet found it missing. Oh my lord!

Now this is where the tale gets strange,
For the average seagull’s visual range
Is but a mile during nights like these.
(I made that up, don’t cite me please).

Perhaps it was his lover’s prayer
As his plane dropped suddenly from the air,
But a flock of gulls was happening by
As Terry fell out of the sky.

“Help me seagulls!” Said Captain T
(Not thinking straight as you can see).
One of the seagulls gave some fuss.
“If we help, what’s in it for us?”

Terry’s mind was numb with shock
As he hurtled past the selfish flock.
He offered them insurance. Alas no luck,
For they were friends already with the Aflac duck.

He offered them his pilot’s suit,
Which he assured them would look cute
On the seagull leader’s feathery bod.
The leader smiled and gave a nod,

And with that nod, the seagulls pooped
A nonstop rain of avian soup.
It fell harder than rain or snow
Which filled a gully miles below.

And so the seagulls stripped Terry bare
And flew off laughing through the air
As Terry landed in the lake
The seagulls had been kind enough to make.

Terry had survived his fall
And, save his pride, wasn’t hurt at all.
He walked back towards the hangar where
His love still waited, unaware.

He sauntered up, all naked and crappy
To the gate at airbase Neil-McNappy,
Where he was denied reentry
Because he lacked I.D, so said the sentry.

If you hadn’t guessed, you see,
Captain Terry is really me.
So now you’ve heard my tale of woe
Can you spare some change?
Huh? Where’d you go?

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Nursing School, 1st Percentile

Sorry that you’ve got the flu.
I hate it when you’re sick,
So I’ve taken steps to fix you
And make your healing quick.

I made you chicken-nyquil soup
And took your temperature.
I bought you prunes to help you poop
And Web-MD’ed a cure.

I put damp cloths on your forehead
And made a pot of tea.
Here are more blankets for your bed.
You’re lucky to have me!

But still you need for one last thing?
Privacy, peace, and quiet?
Sounds good! I’ll put some music on
And wait here while you try it.

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The Black Truth

I want to be a member
Of the seething throng
Who wait outside at five A.M.
To buy a half-price thong.

But, alas, I am afflicted
With a terrible blight indeed.
It makes me feel as if already
I have everything I need.

Also, I have no money.

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I’m Thankful for Obligatory Topics

I’m thankful that the turkey
On my table is dead
And that at ten A.M
I can write poems in bed.

I’m thankful that if my poem
On Thanksgiving isn’t great
I won’t be washed away
By a necrotic wave of hate.

I’m thankful that necrotic waves
Are very rare occurrences
And that I’ve found employment
Selling life and health assurances.

I’m thankful to be dealt a hand
Of aces. Just the same
I’m glad I’ve got the self-control
To just avoid the game.

I’m thankful for soft blankets,
The ability to play,
And Naoko Takeuchi,
But not “Fifty Shades of Grey.”

Finally, I’m thankful for
My readers (that means you)!
Happy Thanksgiving from the States,
And don’t forget to chew.

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The Bag and Pipes

I’ve been told by friends of mine
That I have no filter
Because I saw a naked Scottish man
And said he was “off-kilter.”

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Just Beakause

I awoke with ruffled feathers
On the wrong side of the nest.
A lonely aching filled my heart
Which strained beneath my chest.

I wanted to fly away from here.
Anywhere would do,
But as I spread my wings I found
My group had become two.

Yes indeed, my morning flight
Was joined by some new bird,
And as soon as I had noticed thus
My flock attained a third.

I road the wind below the pair,
The strangers in my sky,
Trying to escape again,
Perhaps to go and die.

And then the birds gave me a caw
And the sun began to rise,
And that is when this lonely bird
Did come to realize
What a difference can be made
By an extra pair of eyes.

IMG_0439.JPG

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Comparison

My quest to write one poem a day
Can really be looked at in this way:
Once per day I really need
One good idea as a seed,

And yet I crank out poems like this,
And some will hit while others miss.
Then I look at Hollywood
And my ideas seem pretty good.

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