Monthly Archives: December 2014

The Travesty Continues

Here it is: The final day.
The year that was will fade away.
With this poem I complete my goal
To write a poem a day, each somewhat droll.

And so completed, I look ahead
From the unfair comfort of my bed.
I feel happy and somewhat zen,
And I think I’ll do it all again!

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Better Than #2

If “penultimate” means second to last,
And Pennsylvania is not as cool
As Transylvania of the past,
We have confirmed a rule:

“Pen,” the prefix, implies lesser status.
Now I, being a man with taste
Have used the pencils advertised at us
Even though that’s apparently a waste.

I think public education
Could improve the endowment of skill
If we reduced frustration
And gave our kids a cil.

Let’s make our schools the very best:
Use a #1 cil on standardized tests!

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This Is Not Tomorrow’s Poem

Pretty much everything
Goes well most of the time,
But every now and then
One can’t think of a rhyme.

I’d written the first couplet,
But not the one that followed it.
‘Twas on the tip of my tongue,
But, alas, I think I swallowed it.

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The Media

A man with an ax
Can hurt one without,
And we know how a man
With a gun can turn out,

But the most dangerous weapon
A madman may use
Is to gather up quotes
And selectively choose

The ones that deliver
Whatever he’s thinkin’.

“This poet’s correct.”
-Abraham Lincoln

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Good Girls

Hermione
Is smarter than me.
Katniss
Would bring me bliss.
For Sarah Connor
I’d be a goner.
I always swoon
For Sailor Moon.

Princess Leia,
The Vampire Slaya,
Buttercup, Blossom, and Belle.
Cinderella’s
Pretty swell, huh?
They’d all suit me so well.

I stare at my breakfast,
The eggs and the bacon,
And ask why all the good girls
Are fictional or taken.

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The Year So Far

‘Twas a short and hectic year
That crawled by a month at a time.
I ended most days with sleep
And started all with a rhyme.

I was unemployed for a while
After graduation,
But somehow I survived
And avoid flagellation.

I discovered the forbidden joys
Of anime and manga,
Continued doing improv,
And never lined a conga.

Now I work with Aflac,
With my days spent on the road,
But when I go to sleep at night
My shoulders lose a load

Because when I pull the covers
Over my weary head
I’m an undercover agent
Whom no government wants dead.

‘Twas a five-and-a-half stanza year.
Thanks for laughing with me here.

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A Forward-Thinking Fellow

I raised my chimney nine inches
When I remodeled my home.
It makes the opening hard to reach
For a reindeer, elf, or gnome,

So I installed a dumbwaiter
To help the givers out.
It makes it hard to build a fire,
But I feel like it gives me clout.

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