Humor

based on a true story My wife’s in bed with lowered head and even lower mood. Her chin’s on her chest and she’s not impressed though at least she’s eating her food. Her smiles are few (one’s way overdue), this downtime’s, I hope, but a blip. I’ll leave it at...

. Stages of Arrested Development __The lads who once had wet their beds __Adventured off in brand-new Keds, Exploring every corner of creation. __Age twelve or so, they raced on sleds __Down icy streets and risked their heads For flashes of adrenal coruscation. __Years later, callow newly-weds, __Their careless words...

_ On Your Marx If humans ran a Human Race, __Karl Marx would not be in it. The human depth that he could trace __would leach out in a minute. For he is neither man nor beast __but half-life near demonic, A few kneels from satanic priest __reversing good, moronic....

Poet Susan Jarvis Bryant challenges her fellow poets to adapt a favorite joke into a poem with meter and rhyme. Enjoy her examples and then post your own joke-turned-poem into the comments section below. . Pony Tale My heart used to hanker for horses (that bright equine blaze of delight)...

2 November 2020 Two weeks and counting here I be In clutches of the CCP I don’t delight as I once did In birthday presents, cards, and quid, But my two darling angel-girls Served me with functionary pearls That bode delightful memories Unlike what came from overseas And self-opened in...

  The turkey that we blithely ate Had little cause to celebrate The final Thursday in November. It's customary to dismember A hapless bird that's plucked and trussed To satisfy our boundless lust For juicy chunks of roasted meat. The friends and relatives we seat Are thankful for the now...

  Thanksgiving 1984 2020 Wear a mask until you eat and never touch your face. Muzzle up between each bite and when you’re saying grace. No more guests than four to eight at six full feet apart. To cough is reprehensible but do feel free to fart.* Though family dos...

  Cricket The game of Cricket, I’ll relate, Goes back to fifteen fifty-eight, Upon a field in Guildford way, In Surrey, many miles away. The game was played by many more, Up to the English Civil War. The village game was in the swing, With many people gambling. By sixteen...

Mozart on His Kegelstatt Trio Quite recently I wrote a little trio While wasting time at skittles with some friends. We needed something for the clarinet, Something not dolorous, but not con brio— A trifle which, their being at loose ends, Would keep my buddies occupied and set Them on...

_ Pope Urban II Sonnet-Speech, Clermont, 1095 Oh Noblemen, I’m charged by God to warn that Christendom is threatened by the Turk. Torched churches and our pilgrim dead we mourn, whilst in Jerusalem’s bounds brute pagans lurk. At home your greed and thuggish acts have placed your souls in peril,...

  On Marriage I married a girl named Sue And alas! She married me too!     As Then, So Now When years ago and many ages since My flaming ardor flared (now fondness thrives For you, most wondrous of all wondrous wives), You turned this mortal pittance to a...

  She was the one who approached me and spoke, Saying my lectures had swept her away. Maybe we could have occasional chats After class ended, with coffee or drinks? Cued and emboldened, I made an advance— Shyly receptive, she moistened her lips Whispering that she would love an amour....

  Mary had a little lamb His fleece was white as snow. This little lamb, we’ll call him Stan, Starred at a livestock show. Stan followed her to cooking school Her class was on white sauce, It’s made with butter, dredge and milk--- Without sauce, meals are lost. Poor Mary...

  A Verse for the Morning After As thieves and pirates count our votes And set us at each other’s throats And fiddle while our cities burn, I wonder, will we ever learn?     November 4th November 3rd has come and gone And so for some, a dismal dawn....

Post your Election Day poem in the comments section below.    Quatrains They “battle for the soul of the nation” And have their voting registration As Democrats—it’s true, at least They’re spiritual, for they’re deceased!   The news is in, Joe Biden’s got The perfect pick for a key spot:...

The American Revolution: An Epic Poem Chapter I Chapter II by Andrew Benson Brown   Chapter III: The New-World Mercury The historical source material for the below installment is Paul Revere’s Ride, by David Hackett Fischer   “Listen up stupid, or you’ll mishear Of the midnight ride of—someone dear… I...

Let's Do It! The surgeon does it in a snip within a stitch of time. The comic does it with a quip, the actor with a line. Morticians do it clad in black with grave and stiff demeanor. The lawyer on the legal track while clutching his subpoena. The padre...

In British folklore, the Beast of Bodmin Moor is a phantom feral cat. Bodmin Moor (Cornwall, England) is a hub of horror, with regular sightings and reports of savagely slain livestock. I’ve sensed the sickening lick of fear __At eyes that flicker on the fringe Of felid fierceness—Luna’s leer __Has...

Is this a werewolf’s trick, or witch’s treat? A devil’s joke? Humanity’s defeat? Who would have thought we’d live to see the day When people would freak out to see a face--- A friendly human face---in public places? Mouths and noses never seemed risque Till now: they’re monstrous---threatening---a disgrace. What’s...

  Nothing Ventured an office romance "What more do you want?" he inquired without guile. ---Can it really be true that my feelings don't show?--- She marveled within, and, suppressing a smile, Inventoried the things he appeared not to know: I want more than greetings on alternate Mondays And occasional...

  Now when you get to sixty-five, your memory starts to slip, But when you get to seventy, you have to get a grip. It’s best if you can write things down to put your mind at ease, To stop you losing mobile phones, remote controls and keys. He headed...

  Vocations Always there are things we should be doing; Others, though, are better left unfinished. Also, there are ends well worth pursuing; Likewise, goals that leave a wight diminished. Everybody wants to be successful Launching some sublunary endeavor, Or to be a mild receptive vessel Filled with God’s amazing...

All poetry by Bruce Dale Wise. Originally published by the SCP 9/26/18 Consumer Rights by Cal Wes Ubideer Accountability, transparency, and search control, consumer advocates are fighting Big-Tech's data hold. For far too long consumers have been powerless to fight the Goolag Commie-Tsars and Facebook Social-Fascist might. We have the...

  “Hunter, you’ve disgraced the name of 'Biden.' Your laptop’s in the hands of some porn cop! I’ve told you, as a Biden you’ll be spied on--- Get thee behind me, spawn of dumb Corn Pop!” “Dad, your words don’t pass the Biden smell test--- You’re rankled by my deeds?!...

  “Censorship is to art, as lynching is to justice.” —Henry Louis Gates, Jr. by Caud Sewer Bile Joe’s never spoken to his son about Burisma—No! The New York Post was not supposed to show that it was so. That treasure trove of laptop data wasn’t for our eyes. That...

Retired K-9 When I was young, you kept me in a cage. But as I got a little calmer, older, Sometimes you’d let me ride in the front seat Shotgun, with my paw upon your shoulder. It wasn’t just for toys and treats, you know— Sniffing out drugs and shells,...

What if I do compare you to a rose Or summer’s day or beauty like the night, Or drone of how I’d sit and drink a coke With you instead of viewing every sight This world can give?—the seven wonders are No wonder without you. Or should I count The...

. The Tweeter Strikes Back At midnight, Don was not asleep, and so, he rose to eat and tweet. He ate McD’s; he felt relaxed. He walked around, and then he spat. On Fox, he watched a Democrat who launched a partisan attack. The Dem said, “Donald is a blight”,...

  No Signal, Please Stand By by Lu “Reed ABCs” Wei Perhaps the most intriguing thing about the past debate between vice-presidential candidates was its strange fate, that when Vice President Pence spoke, the Chinese censored it: “NO SIGNAL PLEASE STANDBY” was how the Chinese rendered it. The moment Harris,...

  Eternal Apocalypse I’ve managed to escape a coming ice age; A mammoth hasn’t tossed me to my death. I’ve dodged the planet’s ozone-waning end-stage; Our green and pleasant land’s still drawing breath. The polar bears are plentiful and healthy. The ocean hasn’t swallowed coastal homes Of cunning cons who’ve...

  a parody of Tennyson's "The Eagle" Upon the bronze haired statue head Enringed in evening’s smoggy spread She beak-pecks on a littered bread. There, on the gritty concrete lies A pop of corn she greedy spies And down she like a pigeon flies.     Michael Curtis is an...

Reflections of an Aging Moon Great brassy stalks of varicolored horns Blow notes to keep the bees awake at noon. Immersed in gaudy zinnia’s stippled forms, They dance and flit, in homage to the moon. Among the varied shapes and hues, a muse Cavorts in blue-strewn, stuff-crimped marigolds More crimson...

. . At the Supper Table of a Progressive They understood riots and death and what's more, "Adore them all really," and down to the core, So dropping my napkin to grant them the same, I upset their table and rose with my frame, A fine crystal pitcher of water...

  Feeding Time Chickens feed on chicken feed. Birds on birdseed, yes-indeed! Cattle feed on cattle feed, Twitters feed on Twitter feed. People feed on many things, Avocados, onion rings, Water drawn from soda springs, Brussel sprouts and chicken wings. Gen-X, Buster, Baby Boomer, Feed on gossip, news, and rumor....

  There’s no age bar on titivating hair, Apart from putting rouge on wrinkled cheek. A Speaker has the right to looking fair, And prune her brunette hair once in a week. Pandemics come and go, but beauty stays. At eighty, beauty makes a second wave When handsome youngsters leer...

  The Church is Locked on Easter Day a rondeau The Church is locked on Easter Day Despite the stone being rolled away. The Christ awakes to greet the poor But they cannot get through the door To go to holy Mass and pray. Lay folk are told, at home...

Weave a circle round him thrice, __And close your eyes with holy dread, __For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise. —Coleridge, “Kubla Khan” Sam Coleridge smoked opium. Ho hum. If that’s what fueled the fire in his pupils I think Sam would have been a...

  July 4, 2020 A monument falls Rioters have no remorse What happened this fourth?     Summer 2020 Sunny days are here! The beach is ideal and near. It’s Fall already?     Day Dreaming A warm summer day That should be spent at the bay. Not at work...

  London’s Docklands, Pre-Gentrification from a sonnet by Wordsworth Earth has not anything to show more foul Unless it be the same neath fog and rain; But no, for like Rasputin’s reechy mane This horror craves occulting in a cowl: Abandoned buildings, cheek by scabrous jowl, Eyes boarded shut or...

  Losing It He staggered round his living room in stunning disbelief As for the very umpteenth time, he’d gone and lost his teeth. He cried, “They’re in here somewhere, I must search and search” but then He couldn’t find his spectacles so he had to think again. He sat...