Jimminy Cricket!

When you wish upon a star,
Which is very, very far,
Best to send that wish with speed
Like a rocket-powered steed!
If it fails to reach its goal,
Like a hobbled, gimpy foal,
Don't give up.  Just send one more!
Watch it fall flat on the floor.

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Astronomical oddities aren't worthy objects of faith.  Not that wishing is faith.

Seasons Crashing In

When broccoli heads abandon their leaves
And let them fall down to the ground
You know Autumn's coming and not long thereafter
That whistling wintery sound.
So gird up your loins and retreat to your couch
Envelop yourself in a quilt.
Winter is coming and with it the cold
Gone is the time for the kilt.

Amos -The First Week

Amos the kitten was yowling one evening
Even before he was named.
W.B. was ignoring the pleading
Wishing the wildun' was tamed.
Next day brought clarity unto his thinking
When thin little kitty he saw.
"My!  He's a cute one and maybe worth feeding.
Look at the stripes on his paw."
Now's been a week and the kitten's been eating
'Nough so his ribs are less clear.
Wouldn't you know it?  The sweet little feline
Has started becoming quite dear.

Flies Beware

Here's the deal:
There's a fly
In my home.

My baby?
He just hates
When flies roam.

Baby swats
And he swings.
He get mad
And he brings
The hurt.

So beware
Little fly.
My baby
Ain't shy.

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Seriously.  The baby swats at flies, slamming the table with his hand and yelling.  And he goes around practicing.  It's only a matter of time before he kills a fly.  We just hope he doesn't eat the carcass.

Cookin' from the Garden

With twelve jalapenos
And sugar galore
Some salt and some pectin
Then sugar some more
I made up some jelly
To brighten my bread
A spicy concoction
To get this guy fed.
With great expectation
I swallowed a bite
And found that this jelly
Was full of the fight!
Zippy and skippy
And kickin' some butt
These jars fully of jelly
Will add to my gut.

Classical

Cellos on tiptoes
And flutes on the wing
Trumpets a-tapdancing
Oboes that sting
Put them together
And what do you get?
Glorious earfuls
I'm willing to bet.

Butter

"I like butter"
The man muttered.


Butter on the plate?
Life is great!


Corn on the cob?
Better have butter!


"You ask, what is our policy? I will say: It is to wage war, by sea, land, and air, with all our might and with all the strength that God can give us; to wage war against a monstrous tyranny never surpassed in the dark, lamentable catalogue of human crime. That is our policy. You ask, what is our aim? I can answer in one word: It is butter, butter at all costs, butter in spite of all terror, butter, however long and hard the road may be." 
-Winston Churchill

Communication (prose cleverly masquerading as poetry)

The woman on the phone
     made her point
   abundantly clear
again
     and
       again.
And then
     she reiterated
For the first five iterations
    had, no doubt,
  fallen short
(Failed)
What was the point?
   
I don't know.
I stopped listening
     and started counting.

Stray Cat Aria

There's a feline on my stoop
Who is yowling to beat heck.
If he doesn't stop his singing
In the morning I'll be wrecked.
What he's after I don't know
There's no tuna in this house,
Though perhaps the wretched feline
Thinks he sees a tasty mouse?
That's absurd on every level,
Both the basement and the main,
All my house has got is spiders,
And some beetles when it rains.
So begone you yowling creature
Lest I shake my fist in vain.
That'll show you what I'm made of!
(Mainly tired and addled brain.)

Conspiracy!

Grassy knoll and inside job,
Right wing crazies and the Mob,
Live for free inside his head
His name's "Paranoia Bob."

Elvis isn't really dead;
Literatti at the Fed,
What's an average man to do?
Wear some tinfoil on his head!

Here's the thing (which isn't new)
Sometimes paranoia's true!
But it must not wreck your day
Nor your life, which you would rue.

Old Guy Playing With Teenagers Limerick

Last night I played football with teens.
My skills were worth more than mere beans.
     In spite of my score,
     I'm feeling quite sore
And grass stains the butt of my jeans.

Boy of the Morning Hullabaloo

My boy plays with blocks when the morning is young,
Banging those babies together.
He seems unaware that his mother, unsung,
Slumbers, but she's not very far.
What would he say if she came roaring out,
Saying, "My baby, be dumb!"
I'm thinking he'd smile and then even imply,
"Dear Mommie, I'm glad that you've come!"

Psychoanalyzing Clouds

Why do dark clouds brood?
Did land just West say something mean?
Were the Great Plains being rude?
Perhaps the mountains were obscene?
I don't know why this is.
I only wonder why
And cast a wish for happiness
For clouds up in the sky.

Gophers

Small, furry creatures are gophers,
Cuddly varmints and so on.
I find it rather surprising
That they are digging holes for fun
In my parking lot!  Bemusing.
Doesn't much matter, I suppose.
When winter comes along
Everything'll be done froze.

Car Repairs Got You Down?

The big, black, blot
Lumbered and fumbled
Finally finding
Its cozy spot.
Not red yet,
Our savings rumbled
In response; minding
That the flabby blob
Had settled so.
"Get off!  Just go!"
Wiggling, the clod
Sighed and sank.
"No," he said.  "No."

Eight Words: One New World

It's unfurled
World's been whirled
It's a Girl

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She's due in January.
Possible New Year's resolution: Change some diapers.

A Good Surprise (a true fiction)

The man was quite dim;
The woman lacked vim;
Taken together
Their prospects were grim.
But whaddya know,
I'll have to eat crow,
Their love all these years
Has continued to grow.

Steel Waters

Are all still waters "smooth as glass"?
Don't some seem more like burnished steel?
I wondered this there on the shore,
While on my skin I couldn't feel
A hint of breeze, nor touch of air,
But in that moment rod and reel
Flashed from the corner of my eye
And rippled liquid metal shined,
A glory sure, howe'er defined.

Aphorism #2

A church with noisy kids...

     ...has got kids.

Count your blessings.

"A Wedding Limerick" or "Those Were Also the 'Words'"

I married a couple today.
They had very little to say.
     "I do" was the word
     And that word was heard.
"Zip a dee doo dah and day!"

Beware the Tinker

When wandering journeymen knock on your door
It's best to be nice to them lest they be dour.
These fellows who wander are known to have knives
And keeping them happy just might save some lives,
At least till you reach to the gun in your drawer
And drive them away, "Don't come back here no more!"

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(A thought based on Mark Twain's The Prince and the Pauper)

"Advice For Young Parents" or "A Truism" - a haiku

When stumbling babies

Wander in a house with stairs

You better watch out

Birch

Birch bark cigarillos
     burning in the fire...
"How is it you smell so good?"
     I'm dying to inquire.
Crackling up in puff of smoke
     Incense of the North.
Burn yourself into hot coals
     and let your smoke go forth.

Aphorisms #1

No one without a tattoo
     or a clue

     Should be making coffee for a living.

An Ode to the Non-Working... "Man"

On Labor Day he don't do much
But rise and make himself some joe.
It isn't really work, as such,
But merely that which makes him go.
But go to where, wherefore and why?
These questions beckon him with care
And so he sits with one closed eye,
A lazy cyclops in his lair.

Ned the Man Who Knows Not Silence

I know a fellow, Ned's his name.
He's just a little less than tame;
He's louder than a hurricane
One wonders, "Is he really sane?"

He blurts out things like vomit flying,
Hollers loud like monkeys crying.
When the silence comes, it's true,
The moment's done, already through.

Then the sounds again resound
And ringings ring and then rebound,
Shouts and whampums held up high;
Triumphantly he gives his cry!

A Limerick on Discretion

A town with two stoplights is small.
It's hardly a real town at all.
     "Don't say that son
     'Less yer fittin' to run.
I'll done give you a funeral pall."

The Silence of the Lake

The shore of Superior,
  for length of the day,
  is continual clamor,
  an ongoing bray,
    a distant crowd singing
    in words that are muddled
      a beating of drums
      from the waves closely huddled,
        crashing, receding
        and rushing back in
        one on another,
        perpetual din.

Silence becomes, not
  the absence of sound,
  but aural consistency
  heard all around,
    so much a part
    of each second and hour
    that sound becomes silence,
    its absence...  a roar.