I remember when saying “Thank you Ma’am”
Was polite, not a micro-aggression.
I recall when when “Boys and girls”
Was how you called kids to attention.
I was there when, instead of a mask,
We taught kids to cover their cough.
Now I work and stay quiet ‘cause I can’t deny
It is nice to still get summers off.
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Sitting by the fire
And my Seahawks won today.
Long day, short poem.
Filed under Poems
It’s morning at the vineyard
And the weather’s looking fine!
We sing hurrah and pick syrah
By bunches off the vine.
There’s Malbec for our jelly
And cabernet for wine,
Filling bucket after bucket
With pickers numbering nine.
My girl may have partaken
Of a bottle from last year.
The leaves stay green and limber
Though its fruit will disappear.
With truck beds full and spirits high
We loose a mirthful cheer!
Now we’re on the highway home
With the pickers we hold dear.
Tomorrow we’ll de-stem the lot
And barrel it to wait
Until next year’s excursion
Or ‘til 2028.
It’s a family tradition
So we all participate,
Bottling mornings in the vineyard,
Packing memories by the crate.
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I was a monster hunter
In a past life, but alas
I was reincarnated
As a big-mouth billy bass
And instead of hunting demons,
Slaying dragons and the like
I sing “Take me to the river”
To a naked guy named “Spike.”
It wasn’t quite the future
I imagined when I fell.
I did not find Valhalla
But a special sort of Hell.
But in between my bursts of song
And bobbing of my head
I dream of where I’ll be reborn
When next I’m stricken dead…
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Giant peaks of scarlet leaves
Mixed with auburn, amber, gold
Summoning the child within
To leap in, safe from autumns’s cold.
Into the fallen leaves in hues
Of flame and fortune children fly
And gentle wind, October’s whisper,
Seays so gently from the sky.
Hours after laughter leaves
The leaves themselves, scattered, wild,
Echo of the past adventures
Of literal and inner child.
Pumpkin pie and jokes await
‘Til snow fulfills poor Autumn’s fate.
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Money’s more expensive now,
And so are milk and bread.
Your rent’s gone through the roof this year
And it’s hard to keep your head.
You might think that stocks and bonds
Are good spots for your money,
But you are wrong! The best investment
Is poetry that’s funny!
For instance, look at all the folks
Who lost their homes this year.
They didn’t buy a book of verse
But spent their cash on beer,
And I think Queen Elizabeth
Would be alive today
If she’d just read one lousy poem
Published every day!
So do it for your health and wealth
And the queen’s legacy:
Read the crap I publish here
And oh! The results you’ll see!
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‘Twas 31 days before Halloween
And all through the shops
Christmas music was playing…
Should I call the cops?
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I wrote 92 haikus on Tuesday
That apparently nobody read.
If you’re unsatisfied with this poem
Go read some of that crap instead.
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Upon the sofa down we sat,
Eating ice cream, happy, fat,
Eyes on the TV, wearing no pants:
This is my ideal of romance!
Filed under Poems
Everyone needs a big fluffy blanket
That smiles when you hug it or throw it or yank it;
It can soothe pain and dry off your tears
And it does so for free over hundreds of years.
When Summer is hot and you lie on the grass
It holds all your food and keeps bugs off your ass.
When Winter is cold and the sky is all gray
The blanket will escort the darkness away.
A blanket can act as a robe in a bind
And a tangle of blankets can help you unwind.
Yes, everyone needs a big fluffy blanket
So next time you see one, remember to thank it.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 