Humor

Wake-Up Call "Shoulda," "coulda," "woulda" and "whatever" Are telltales that evince velleity In speakers who most probably will never Instantiate authentic seity. For every post-millenial young snowflake There is a vital task that must be done, But if it's harder than a piece of sponge cake, You'll hear those babies...

  A Truly Perfect Love My fingertips caress your hair and I no longer have a care about what happens in this mortal plane. I lay you down upon the bed and then I gently touch your head and you surrender love to me again. I feel your tongue from...

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TQ6QuvFS068    

translations by Alan Steinle Translator's Note: This poem (“Tres cosas”) was originally written in Spanish by Baltasar del Alcázar (1525-1606). I have translated the poem into English and have retained the abba rhyme and the eight-syllable lines.   Three Things I’m a prisoner to all these, and I’m as happy...

  To Whom It May Concern Who writes letters anymore, and in verse? I don't care whether you like it or not. I suppose I could have phoned you, or worse— dropped in. I'd be putting you on the spot. You're just like everyone else nowadays, no face to face,...

O, Where Is Love? by James A. Tweedie O, where is love? You’ll find it in the pain _That binds a mother to her newborn child; _In bitter-broken friendships reconciled; _And in the kiss of lovers in the rain; In being kind and offering a smile _To hardened hearts too...

. Uncle Joe's Last Stand “Lying, dog-faced pony soldier!” Blurts out Biden, as he scolds her. Eyes unfocused, can’t walk upright; Goes not gentle into that night. Mind adrift, his brain a rebel. Voice reverts to childish treble. Conduct strange and unbecoming. Dentures loose---he’s always gumming! Barely holding on to...

  Bongo, bongo, bongo, I don’t wanna leave the Congo, Oh no, no, no, no, no! Bingle, bangle, bungle, I’m so happy in the jungle I just don’t wanna go! —Danny Kaye and The Andrews Sisters, 1947 The Vatican is dull and dreary— It leaves me out of sorts and...

  The Park Northern pintails brushing blue, the crescendo of their wings, weaving windsong into words some say that, “Up jumped spring.” The rising sun, through veils of dun, atop a pool of glass with flitting beams, does bend the streams to cast a liquid brass. Children fashion cradles, and...

A Child’s Winter Inventory Winter ‘87-’88 Twittering birds; Chattering teeth; Snow coats the trees In an icy sheath. Glittering snow, Bone-chilling breeze; The frost seeps in; Things begin to freeze. Fluttering scarves; Skaters on ice; I think that winter Is really quite nice.     To Winter December 16, 1994...

Bring On the Leeches A condition called aspergillosis, And a touch of marasmus as well, Was the surgeon’s succinct diagnosis. All my innards were hurting like hell, And he told me that nothing he did Stood a chance of improving my grave Situation. I slipped him a quid Then requested...

Proverbs for Engraving onto Imperial Monuments War is the price of freedom. Depths bewilder. The blow aimed at the beast hits him who shields it. The sword of Justice best serves him who wields it. The gibbet’s final victim is its builder. A round coin rolls to him who most...

An English Ode That famous field where nodding poppies sway In sunlit grass, where souls of all the good Spend sweet Eternity in dance and play And with the gods, take Beauty as their food __Upon the isle across the sea __That circles all the mortal world With misty waters...

  A Letter to Sir Grammar Dear Sir Grammar: With all kindness and courtesy, may I request, A new package of words, freshly made, For, truly, it seems I have used them all up, And my writing has near been betrayed. To start with, I shall need a splatter of...

Praise for Fall You float in on a late September breeze with still-warm days and mild, cool nights in tow. It’s not your way to bring the first hard freeze before November when your cold winds blow. The trees, a color riot on display, God’s handiwork, are certain to enthrall....

Mama My mama took two drinks a year; A shot glass down the gullet— Yet hated bars and abhorred beer. Would execute a pullet— An ax, a stump—one frightened bird Was done for in a minute, Yet any gossip that she heard, Would say there is no truth in it....

  Et In Arcadia Ego Oh, that's it, Keko. Pass through. Go ahead. Just walk across my books without a glance, with all that arrogant insousiance of yours, encoded in that languid tread. No, never mind that I've been up all night engrossed in them. What now? So why the...

Song at Sunset The sun sets ‘neath the mountain top: __A golden orb that blinks And just for seconds lights the sky __Ablaze before it sinks. I see the sunset in your eyes, __Heart sinking in your breast… And bend to give you one last kiss __Before your final rest....

Grapes Peel me a grape But remove the seed I love the flesh But have no need Of hard encounters In the skin Juicy, fat, dry or thin. On second thoughts—feed me gin.     More Phobia Limerick Riddles Each poem below describes a phobia. Guess what the person is...

A Moving Experience We’re the Stooges Three—your moving company. If it ain’t broke before we tote, it soon enough will be. Your furniture and prized possessions We handle as if our own. Employed, of course, movers’ discretion When choosing which “Fragiles” are thrown. We’re the Stooges Three—your moving company. We...

Von Sacher-Masoch’s Rebuttal to the Golden Rule If a brutal bash can bring one pleasure, one man’s lash is another man’s leisure.     Angus MacHartey’s Final Party a sequel to "Angus MacHartey's Parties"  Angus MacHartey’s famous parties Are terrors I’ve told you the tale of before. The drinking and...

  There's a legend that's told in the neighborhood pubs, In the smoke-filled gin joints and the posh country clubs, In the places beer flows, be it froth or in dregs, They say Darryl O'Day is the king of the kegs. Now Darryl was sixty but still keeping fit; His...

  Hark now to the yuppies’ anthem, And the lifestyle that it preaches— How we all reside on the chic West Side With our Chardonnay and quiches. Chorus: We all reside on the chic West Side With our Chardonnay and quiches! Apart from our dread employers, To no one we’re...

Cumæan  Below, beyond the tiles now cave’d down, Up from the rubbled earth arose a sound Shrieking in a pitch strung to sting the ear, Some spirit of a hag command I hear Of the low, ruined place that was her home, The Force, the Glory, the Empire, Rome. “Scan...

One Last Candle The angry storm approaches in the night, Its curdling howl is heard for miles around. The trees all flinch in fear of nature's smite, Then cast their sobbing leaves upon the ground. No soul dare venture out to face the storm, For nature's wrath is not so...

  It is rare that a bill can succeed on The Hill based on only the skill of a hobbyist. If you suffer the lack of a plan of attack, what you need is the knack of a lobbyist. Since their fee must be paid and expenses defrayed, I’ll dispense...

  Christmas has been canceled—it’s naughty Santa’s fault. His haughty carbon footprint has been a grave assault on melting polar ice caps; they’re now a muddy puddle, where sweaty elves and Rudolph are sizzling in a huddle. Adios St. Nicholas, your super-speedy sleigh should’ve been an eco-yacht; your flights have...

  Recalling Christmas in the past: the time I mixed my drink— a cocktail, “Everything we have”… I puked at lunch. I think you ate your meal, despite the stink! Another time, our puppy dog tore gifts beneath the tree. A nasty whiff: we didn’t spot the poop till half...

Childhood Conjugation Our mother tongue’s a mile-long smorgasbord where children eat for free. With giggling ease they wolf down words that grown-ups can’t afford and guzzle grammar like soft strings of peas. One day I told my three-year-oldish kid the hour had come to clear her breakfast plate. “I amn’t...

  Each poem below describes a phobia. Guess what the person is scared of in each. For extra credit try to name the phobia’s official name. Post your answers in the comments section below.   Phobia 1 There was a young lady from Snives Who was frightened to open her...

  The Winter of Our Contentment Without the winter there would be no spring, No snowdrops, crocus, scilla, daffodils, Or any other bulbs that need deep chills To send up flowers. Almost anything Would be preferred to missing these bright blooms, And so it is, we dream the reindeer hoof...

An Aussie Christmas That joyous time has come to pass When summer’s heat warms man and beast, And wheaten fields burnt burnished brass Cannot compare, not in the least, With star of gold upon the tree— A pointer to Epiphany. Excited children wake and run To take delight at gifts...

Grimm Reckonings Summary Thoughts on Five Fairy Tales: A Sonnet Cycle   Rapunzel I wish Rapunzel could have saved the day __By climbing down her own unfurled hair, __Escaping from her prison-tower lair __Without a prince to help her get away. Why do all hapless damsels in distress __Need to...

’Twas the Night Before Christmas ’Twas the night before Christmas and all through the malls there was widespread confusion and hot, frenzied brawls. Many shoppers were wanting the same bloomin’ gifts. Desperation resulted in feud-level rifts. There were four grandmas fighting for one preschool game. Their ferocity made angry pit...

I think that I shall never see A tree that is invisible. The very thought is risible— Or maybe it's advisable To say the word as 'rīsible.' My crucial point is clear to see —I mean it can be seen, not clear— What's clear cannot be seen. I fear I...

Translations by Terry L. Norton. Original Latin by Phaedrus follows each. The Red Kite and the Doves When doves had from a certain kite fled And by the swiftness of their wings escaped, The wily bird of prey unto them said, “Why let your lives by constant fear be shaped?...

  1. THEATRE Strolling Players Dancers, actors, acrobats! Stripey trousers, floppy hats! They weren’t born to swing a scythe, pay a toll or weigh a tithe. Not for them the horny hand, tied to tilling leaden land. They will never need to chew on millet bread or turnip stew. Red...

The Rime of the Balanced Boxes after Samuel Coleridge's Rime of the Ancient Mariner Part I Now, the training time had ended, The conference day was done, So, the teachers left the building, Their hearts and minds as one. They’d crafted no new teaching tools That might help students learn;...

The Tricoteuses The starving market women marched, marched on Versailles with kitchen knives; both marching and not marching meant they were endangering their lives. The ball got rolling, and the king was soon removed from absolute pow’r; then they were prevented from reaping their risky labour’s fruit. The new regime,...

by Caud Sewer Bile Elitist, social climbing parvenu, reclusive expert in the CIA, in touch with DNC dirt-digging too, caught leaking from the White House in the day, came forth in utter anonymity in lieu of no-one doing anything, accusing Trump of quid-pro policy recoiled at corruption happening, a point...