Lions, tigers, bears, oh my.
These are sports teams, yes, but why
Isn’t there a team named after
An animal that inspires laughter?
Chicago Squid? Seattle Seagulls?
New York Newts? Boston Beagles?
Who wants to see the ducklings hit it!
I sure so! I just don’t get it.
Filed under Poems
“Where should we sit?” I ask.
She says “Anywhere.”
So I sit in the corner,
And she says “but not there.”
So we move to the middle,
Which she doesn’t like too much.
We sat outside, but the people
Were bums, singers, and such.
We walked out to Jamaica,
And she seemed ok with that,
And I went back to the corner
With a tip of my “are you really wearing that” hat.
I’m riding my bike on the beach
Eating the pit of a peach
As dolphins teach my dog
To critique pricey perfumes.
My face is bright with joy
And the salt wind in my hair
Makes me wonder as I pedal
“What was in those mushrooms?”
Filed under Poems
You ever wake up at nine PM
And want to write away,
But the poem that fits perfectly
I already wrote yesterday?
Filed under Poems
You ever had that feeling
When you wake up at nine
And think “I’ve got work to do,
“But waiting twelve hours will be fine.”
Filed under Poems
Some are born as Queens or Kings.
Some are born as other things.
But be you bishop, rook, or knight,
At least you’re not a pawn. Am I right?
And if, unluckily, you are a pawn
You’d best just keep on keeping on.
You’ll reach a spot where life treats you fair.
(Or, more likely, you’ll get murdered on your way there).
And if you reach that special place,
A queen or rook you may replace,
Where you are but some king’s conquest
Or else called “castle,” despite your protest.
Or perhaps you’re promoted to a knight
And never again can you move quite right.
You could be a bishop, those stoic blokes
And victims of off-color jokes.
Only one can be the king,
The chosen one, or another such thing.
So if you’re a pawn, your best bet
Is to stay still in the corner with no regret.
The happiest piece, the jolliest lord
Of the 64-square light and dark colored board
Is the piece that stays safe at home.
That’s why I no longer roam.
Filed under Poems
Pirates are lying, violent jerks,
Three things which I deplore,
But pirates don’t write poetry,
Which makes me respect them more.
Filed under Poems
If at first you don’t succeed,
LOL! Sucks to be you!
If at first I don’t succeed,
You’re dreaming. I’m perfect. All this is true.
Filed under Poems
I had to walk ten city blocks
To find Café Joie.
That’s ten times the length in Washington
To find some plain coffee.
I paid a polite barista
With a blue, 20-loony bill.
The traffic lights are flashing green,
And I can buy a prescription pill.
I can calculate distances
By moving a decimal place,
And I can drive 100
Without being in a race.
It’s a different place than the USA.
Yes, Canada’s where I’ve been.
Now I publish this, just hoping
The “yanks” will let me come back in.
Filed under Poems
I live a life of luxury,
Amidst my massive family.
They rub and brush my golden hair,
And I reward them with “I don’t care.”
I have three hobbies. These are they:
On your freshly vacuumed chair I lay,
Peeing on your lovely walls,
And playing with my hairy balls.
You say you love me. Who knows why?
You’ll probably outlive me (heavy sigh).
Having me is lots of fun.
Forever yours, your teenage son.
Filed under Poems
