Poems

as I write
to keep up with inflation
haikus turn to ballads

Romeo and Juliette roamed to the mountain top
that is where the aquifer resides.
Romeo sustained head trauma when he tried to hop
Juliette then slipped and scraped her sides
Romeo said: Juliette
H2O we've got, not yet
this fertile and agrarian soil
provided a convenient foil
but not the type of foil I carry
let us proceed, we shall not tarry
and get that full container
the writer's on retainer.

Author notes: Jack and Jill went up the hill To fetch a pail of water. Jack fell down and broke his crown, And Jill came tumbling after. Then up got Jack and said to Jill, As in his arms he took her, “Brush off that dirt for you’re not hurt, Let’s fetch that pail of water.” So Jack and Jill went up the hill To fetch the pail of water, And took it home to Mother dear, Who thanked her son and daughter.

"Where have they gone?!" The Devil asked, askance
"Don't tell me they've gone back to Mother Earth?" --
"Indeed, they have, Your Pestilence. By chance,
have you seen my umbrella? It is worth..." --

"Stash your umbrella, Beelzebub, why now?"
The Devil asked, incredulous, and stern.
"I'm more into the why, and not the how",
he added, and with obvious concern.

"Your Evilness", said Beelzebub at last,
"They call it revenge travel, so I've heard.
In fact, me too, if you're not too aghast,
I'd like a quick vacatio..." -- last words slurred,

as Satan turn him into solid salt.
"See Sodom and Gomorrah while you're out"
he added with a giggle, "you old dolt"
and settled to an evening with some stout.

the bite marks on the surfboard
don't quite tell the story
it was a perfect wave, you see
the tube, a touch of glory
good thing she knows just how to swerve
or she'd become the great white's surf and turf

Author notes: image from allposters.com

I won't forget you, poplar grove, the moss under your shade, our bed
as we discovered what is love and spring itself declared us wed.
I won't forget you, no -- I can't! Though other forests roam this land
wherever life may choose to plant, my roots extend a loving hand

Author notes: image from fineartamerica.com

the best laid traps for mice and men
are those that hide their purpose
those that smile widely and pretend
to love you, at the surface
"We've your best interests in mind"
they are so eager, and so kind
and all the while, the trap
just waits to make its snap

out by Jupiter and Saturn -- listen up, my fellow geeks!
noticing a certain pattern: why are all these fellas Greeks?

fine, among them some fine ladies
heard that Pluto (known as Hades)
sends them hearts but they refuse
and Persephone, his muse
is way out there in the belt
must have told him how she felt

Some no doubt will say: they're Roman!
but unless you are a yeoman
they are wholly Greek, their culture
Roman -- veni, vedi, vulture

all the skies are tinged with classics
mostly of a certain kind
when discovering new planets
let's keep all of that in mind

sullen faces take their places
stare into each other's void
wrinkles draw their ample traces
long gone smiles appear annoyed
coffee overdose is wearing
faces show a certain sheen
no, they cannot help their staring
the new day will soon begin

"Please! Less tonic, and more gin",
that's the words that Gunga Din
uttered right before he went to find the Thuggees
Cannot blame him, as that bar
sometimes went a bit too far
Gunga knew though that there's always horse and buggies

So no need to drive yourself
and the gin, it was top shelf
Mr. Din a noted fan of gin and tonic
Liked to drink it till he's blind
washed the Thuggees off his mind
and emerged on to the street a catatonic

Things proceeded at this pace
Gunga frequented the place
the bartender went as far as saying: "buddy"
but you know, the story ends
they became the best of friends
Gunga Din, though, he came home, all dead and bloody

my muse, irate
can't concentrate
at any rate
she's not been great

I asked her: please
one masterpiece
don't be a tease
you write with ease

but she refused
said she's been used
I'm not amused
but she excused

her lack of will
on my poor skill
but said she will
if I distill

life to two words
put them to chords
I'll get awards
peer among lords

did not decline
I toe the line
my words divine
they're moon and shine

One thing he had
he called it free
for it was free
delivery

one thing to call
to change your tune
he wants to put it
on the Moon

one thing to read
most any book
he calls it Kindle
not a Nook

and one more thing
to rule them all
AWS
is what it's called

the red beret wants a parade
or at the least, a fair
to walk the street that lovers made
Champs-Élysées affair
it wants all that, but it stays mute
a Monday morning. The commute.

Author notes: image from pexels.com wc 36