A Little Winter Snark

Mother Nature's in a tizzy
Laying down the snow
She's been keeping pretty busy
See her flakes a' blow

'Course, this morning it was raining
Temp was forty-four;
Mister Cold Front came complaining,
"It's December, w----!"

Affronted by such garish jargon
Mother played at nice,
Offering Sir Cold a bargain--
Turned his ass to ice!

Father Winter watched with humor
At her clever fix,
And, to make the storm a boomer
Threw sleet in the mix!

But then Jack Frost flew quickly in
(Lest he be left out)
A' drumming up his mighty wind
To blow the snow about!

Mother, so proprietary,
Could not stand it longer
Adding hail to make it scary;
Proving she was stronger!

Now, of course, it's near two thirty
In the afternoon
Driving home will be quite dirty
Mother: grant a boon!

Rock Star Poet

I'm the rock star of poetry
Screaming fans galore
Many millions come to read me
Few who know the score.

Penning verses controversial
Spanning space and time
Fanfare of alliteration,
Meter, rhythm, rhyme.

Watch them all line up to read my
Righteous rock and roll
Fame and fortune long decreed by
Sursurrating soul.

Accompanied by entourage
(Coleridge and Keats)
I deal in morals camoflage,
Alternating beats.

So tune in to my poesy
Make no bones about it--
I am the rock star poet, see?
Don't you ever doubt it.

Off the cuff and just plain silly. :)

How Much Is A Million Pounds?

It turns out I'm a millionaire
Soon as the check is cashed
A relative I never knew
Was in a plane that crashed

I found this out by email, see,
It happens all the time,
Like when I won the lottery,
A million pounds. Sublime!

The funny thing, I think you'll find,
Is this time's not the first
These ne'er seen relatives of mine
Their type of luck's the worst!

They're scattered all around the Earth
(In pieces now, it seems)
And left me many times my worth!
Enough to live my dreams!

The only thing contemplative
About these new bequests
Is that these wills from relatives
They come with odd requests!

Why do they need my bank account?
A check will do just fine.
Why send it all in small amounts?
Isn't the money mine?

And one thing I've sincerely learned
Through this affair insane
Is when in Africa, be warned:
Don't ever go by plane!

Inspired, of course, by those damnable spam emails!

Vanish Little Morsels (Merry Widow Part I)

I love to feed the chickens
And the ducks and piggies, too
They cluck and quack
And oink and then
I feed them parts of you.

I didn’t mean to kill you
But you really made me mad.
I told you if
You cheated it
Would really be quite bad.

So when I saw the pictures
Well, I really had no choice
I cut you up
To shut you up
I couldn’t bear your voice.

Who thought that you’d betray me?
I know I never did.
And who'd have known
That anger sown
Would make me flip my lid?

So vanish little morsels,
They will eat while you’re still hot
Then you’ll be gone,
I’ll be alone,
And never will get caught.

This is the first part in a planned humorous series about a fed-up farmer's wife and her adventures in murder. Okay, maybe I read too much Stephen King.

Ode To A Spider

I watch the nimble spinnerettes; a spider spinning strings
An avid agile dancer going through its flow and ebb
Particularly placing strands about the tender wings
Cocoon constructed carefully with mortem in its web.

Oh, black and silver phantom sewing life up into death
O morbid fate that mother nature brings
How fragile is your cosm unto which I blow my breath,
Then *splat* because I cannot stand you things.

Apology In Case

Onto the nets then the old boy stumbled
Constant writing daily
Finding these poets, the old boy, humbled,
Threw his hat in gaily

Posting in places he'd not gone before
Daring, darting, wincing
Shamed by the beauty of sonnets and yore
Crafted and convincing

Still in the hopes that his craft could be honed
Practice, practice, practice
And with a dream that true praise could be owned
practice, practice, practice

And as he writes on the pages therein
Finding friends in forums
He hopes not to commit a cardinal sin
Or that they'll ignore'ems. :)

One of my first, tentative poems on the internet, posted for my newfound friends at TPS