Pottery is a hobby
And an art form, in a way.
To do it, you spin a wheel
And use lots and lots of clay.
You stick the pot-in-progress
In a special sort of stove,
And you paint it different colors
‘Cause the default’s sort of mauve.
Once your pot is finished
You can fill it up with stuff
Like pebbles, beads, or flowers
Or all sorts of girly stuff.
Then you stick it where you’ll look at it
And feel the nostalgia
Of the day you took to potter
Instead of studying hydromalgia.
Filed under Poems
Once a year we celebrate
Some unruly Irish saint
With our Friday evening fun,
Although it’s Tuesday, and only 1:00.
If you’re a kid not wearing green
It’s better that you not be seen,
For this day’s for the violent sort.
Pinching’s an encouraged sport!
And tomorrow, on goes the fun
As we avoid noise and the bright sun.
So read this poem tomorrow at noon,
And you’ll know why you fell asleep in the bathroom.
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
Monday comes again.
Seems it happens every week.
Can’t we skip this one?
Today is the Ides of March,
When Caeser was made invalid.
We celebrate with leftover pie,
Orange Julius, and Caeser salad.
Filed under Poems
It’s 3.14159!
What a day! Oh, isn’t it fine!
I’m all for Pi, but in this case
I’d like my Pi less “in your face.”
Filed under Poems
Let the record show
I really didn’t know
That an iceberg could do damage
Like that iceberg did.
Don’t think I didn’t care
That a floating bit was there,
Begging for some rammage
With nine-tenths of its body hid.
Let the record indicate
That good-old-me, the captain’s mate,
Gave warning to the skipper,
But he did merely scoff.
Then the captain broke the ship
And so he went out for a dip.
He was a lousy tipper,
So in the end, we’re better off.
Filed under Poems
We run through the park
Away from the light.
It’s awfully dark
To be flying a kite,
But vampires have to
Find creative means
To be a good parent
To their vampire teens.
Filed under Poems
Moon light, moon bright,
Only moon I’ll see tonight…
Then my neighbor proved me wrong,
And I had to sing a different song.
Filed under Poems
I’m asked to finish up a phrase
In this black-boxed party craze,
But I find it’s rather hard to do.
For these cards here in my hand:
In other games, they would be banned
And I don’t know what half of them are. Do you?
Filed under Poems
Were I a tiger in a cage
I think I would be filled with rage,
And when the humans gave me food
I’d return it, halfway chewed.
The human doctors would have a hunch
Why I refused to eat my lunch,
And they would come inside my pen,
And I’d enjoy the meat of men.
Were I a tiger, I’d be happy, yet
I’m not a tiger; I’m a vet.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 