I stand atop the rocky cliff
Above the salty ocean blue
And shout to myself “how lovely
“And beautiful are you!”
I stand atop the rocky shore
Above the crashing waves below
And my echo calls back softly
“Whoa now! Let’s take this slow.”
I think I know why plants don’t speak
And the reason is this:
They cannot pronounce the word
My other hypothesis
For why speech is elusive
Is that plants are politically moderate
(But evidence is inconclusive).
The pot called the kettle black.
The kettle thought the pot was a racist kind,
But then kettle saw that the pot was black too
And, quoth the kettle, nevermind.
Have you ever seen a sunrise
And thought “that’s very yellow?”
Have you ever met a stranger
And known you do not know the fellow?
Have you ever started a poem
Without knowing how it will end?
If so I have to ask you
To stop trying to steal my identity.
You may look real classy
In your souped-up chassis
And yet prove to be asses
When you read “chassis” as chasses.
Today we bury the body of Joe
Who lived to 108.
He read the terms and conditions
And thus he is “the late.”