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The Blonde Twins The Blonde Twins are a wonder to behold: Hell hath no fury like the Donald scorned. Earth shudders at the barefaced lies he's told. Beelzebub tells lies less double-horned— Less frequent, less unhinged, less pants-on-fire. Off ev'ry scale we know lie Donald's fibs, Next to the whoppers Boris doth transpire, Dissembling quite as bigly as his nibs. Exactly like two podded peas are they To such extent, one wonders of each gene: Why is it like the other's? Twinning? Nay, In years of age they differ by eighteen! Nay, nothing can explain the likeness spun Save Don's the dad, and Boris is the son! (First place in the Adult category of Southern Shakespeare Company's 2020 Sonnet Contest) |
Critical Worker Coronavirus rules the world today, Respecting neither privilege nor rank. In my case both are low, though many say That when a life is saved, it's me they thank. I feed them, clothe them, nurse them back to health, Concerned less for myself than I should be, And overlook disparities in wealth, Less harmful to my patients than to me ... When this pandemic's over, will you go On taking me for granted, or instead Raise pay for work I do? You surely know Kind words do not provide my daily bread! Essential as I am, must I implore? ... Remember who kept Covid from your door! (First published on October 30, 2020 in the Creativity Webzine) |
Weather Experts What makes our weather experts on TV Express such joy the moment that they learn A monster storm is forming out at sea? The damage it might do evades concern! How many times I've watched a coming storm Extolled for having reached an awesome size! Rotations are impressive if they form Enormous whirls of peril in my skies! X marks the spot of trouble they admire: Perfection in the sharpness of an eye Encircled by a vast expanding gyre ... Reporting danger makes them rapt—but why? The experts who've let poets lie unread See poetry in hurricanes instead! (First published on October 29, 2020 in Autumn Sky Poetry Daily) |
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An Emeritus Prof A dream showed no more courses to be planned, No tests to grade, no meetings to be at— Except for workshops in some far-off land, Morocco maybe, Spain, or Montserrat ... Each time this dream recurred it would require Researching in exotic meeting sites In which I'd give a talk and then retire To think professor's thoughts through foreign nights, Upholding highest standards, even though Sequestering with scholars on a beach, Pontificating on the things I know, Relieved of grading since I couldn't teach ... One day I did retire. Then Covid came. Far-off is still far-off. The dream's the same! (First published in Light on August 31, 2020 as one of the Poems of the Week) |
A Hard-To-Swat Fly A Frenchman was about to eat his food. He loathed to share his dinner with a fly, And since one pesky fly had dared intrude, Resolved at once this fly would have to die! Dispensing electricity in sparks That fizzled from a swatter he now held, Our Frenchman chased the fly, but left no marks, Since flies are so adroitly self-propelled ... What happened next brought kudos to the fly: An undetected gas leak filled the room To spark a blast that blew the roof sky-high. For miles around the neighbors heard it boom ... Luck blessed the man. Just minor burns had he. You know the rest: The fly escaped scot-free! (Prompted by this article, first published in Light on September 14, 2020 as one of the Poems of the Week and reprinted in the Washington Post on October 15) |
President Trump Pinocchio cheered Donald Trump one day, Resolved to earn some aid for puppeteers. "Esteemed Lord King," he lied, "I hope you may Serve six more terms and live a thousand years!" Immediately the puppet's nose grew out, Developing in length at least two yards, Ensuring that the far end of his snout Now reached to where Trump spouted old canards ... The puppet could not stop an urge to sneeze. The droplets covered Trump in clouds of spray, Recirculating up his nose with ease, Until he held the puppet's DNA ... Months later Trump was hiding well off-screen, Propped up in one mile-long stretch limousine! (First published on September 22, 2020 in The Satirist) |