Wednesday, July 30, 2008

obama mia

Obama mia
Whom clintonista spurned:
Don't fly
     too high
         to the sun
And get yourself burned.

Skipping on clouds
Can be a tricky trick.

But come down to earth
If only for a bit.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008


Grumpy old man
Where have you gone?
"Country First" now your motto(?):
"Get off of my lawn!"

Angry old man
What are you say'n?
"My friends" (ad nauseam)
"I'll hit 'm with m'cane!"

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

such is the nature of truth

"truth" has cult status,
"myth": status of poem.
Which has more truth
be told?

Poets are beggars
( that is their lot )
from real truth-tellers really
whose stories they've stole.

Monday, July 21, 2008

standing in the pool

Summertime is time for
just standing in the pool,
just splashing a bit
and just looking cool,
just chatting with people
and never being cruel.
Like finding return to
amniotic fluid's prebirth,
we find peace in just wading
around in the mirth.

Monday, July 14, 2008

This lonely poem

This lonely poem sits
alone in his blog.
No reader attends me—
not even a frog.

My purpose in life
is simple indeed:
find charm in myself—
that's all that I need.

Comments are welcome—
come as you please,
with critique or kudo
or even a sneeze.

placed in Poets United Think Tank #57: Loneliness

Friday, July 11, 2008

The cat from my past

The cat from my past did last
fourteen years full
of life.

She was black, like Sabrina's wisecracking cat,
Salem—except her name was Eefa:
of myth, a Celtic warrior wife.

She would bond only with one
(that is me), but with others around she
would flee.

Eefa, I loved thee.

Friday, July 4, 2008


—America's Viagras.

Cum Fourth, mia amorè!
Keep stiff ... flag polè!
Spew plenty ... a-bloom!
Shoot—splash ... boom!

Stand tall!

(Who has the biggest
one of all?)

Wednesday, July 2, 2008


Star in Palm Springs !
—where you live life of kings.
And you should get what stardom brings:
"a Hollywood Star"—that's what your fandom sings !

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

Michael and Ryan

Can anything be more sublime
    than to see Michael Phelps in rhyme?
World record four hundred meter!
    Can anything else be sweeter?
Can anyone make poetry in swim
    like anyone else but him?
And is there anything with such grace
    as Michael's and Ryan Lochte's embrace?