Sunday, March 29, 2015

Let's praise young soldiers

Let's praise young soldiers, dead in war,
Who never knew what was in store,
Who trusted what their leaders said;
Let's mourn the youths, now that they're dead.

Let's praise them with a grand parade,
For the sacrifices that they made,
They fell before opponents' guns;
Let's grieve with families, for their sons.

Let's praise them for their handsome looks,
Their photos now in history books,
War took their lives before their prime;
Let's weep for soldiers out of time.

Saturday, March 28, 2015

Mad Men, or sad men?

I saw Mad Men from first to last,
And frankly, I was just aghast.
In spite of all the praise it got,
Good entertainment, it was not.

The storyline did not appeal,
Ir made me yawn, I had to steal
Some furtive glances at the clock;
I never have been pleased with schlock.

A trip to Mars

What would induce someone to face
A voyage through the night of space,
What breed of man, attempt to try
To flee the earth and pierce the sky,

Leave home behind, and fly to Mars,
Or hunger for the distant stars,
What urgent need could he presume,
To laugh at fate, and risk his doom?

Wednesday, March 25, 2015


"A psychological malaise supposedly affecting wealthy young people, symptoms of which include lack of motivation, feelings of guilt, and a sense of isolation."
 - Wikipedia

Now affluenza's in the news,
A malady owned by the rich;
It shows the kind of life they choose,
That guilt can cause a nasty itch.

Their greed remains their true disease,
If they were poor, then they would steal;
They think more luxuries will ease
The existential pain they feel.

To fight their numbness and malaise,
They buy fast sport cars to impart
Some meaning to their empty days,
Or plan new shopping malls to start.

Although they think their way is right,
Their lifestyle never could bring peace,
But affluenza's their affair,
And seems to be on the increase.

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

The headline writer's challenge

The headline writer knows the score;
His job? Describe the story's core.
The words he chooses must impart
The meaning at the story's heart.

On deadline, tense, he conquers dread
As pressures mount to move ahead;
Words flood his mind at breakneck speeds
To tell the reader what he needs.

Despite his zeal, words he selects
May leave the reader lost, perplexed.
His challenge will not go away;
He has to face it every day.

Saturday, March 21, 2015

The first day of spring

Despite the fact that spring is here -
The equinox came yesterday -
Winter stayed on, and it was clear
A heavy snow was on the way.

It started snowing after dawn,
And showed no signs of losing steam;
Before the day had come and gone,
The spring still seemed a distant dream.

We tell ourselves we know the score;
We like to brag about our role.
We claim we handle what's in store,
But nature's really in control.

Friday, March 20, 2015

On napping

When taken by the need to nap,
Don't fight the urge, it's always apt.
Your body knows when you need rest,
Though you may think your brain knows best.

No matter if you tease or spin it,
The nap will win, so just begin it.
And if you were to stay awake?
How much misery could you take?

Sleep deprivation isn't fun
For you, for me, or anyone.
Your nap is not the least bit odd;
It's restful in The Land of Nod.

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

Saint Patrick's Day

(Apologies to Dr Seuss)

'Tis fine, the wearin' of the green;
On Paddy's Day it's always seen,
But spare me, please! I think it queer,
To sit around and quaff green beer.

I do not like to drink green beer,
I do not like it far, or near.
Green beer's a beverage I'll forsake;
My thirst by other means I'll slake.

Monday, March 16, 2015

If wishes were horses...

"If wishes were horses, beggars'd ride,"
Cliches like that we just can't abide;
Conditional verbs are what we use,
If fantasy's the thing to choose.

If we speak in indicative mood,
Describe reality unimproved,
Avoid all need for expectation,
We leave no room for speculation.

But if you were queen, I'd be your king,
And we could achieve 'most anything;
Our lives would not be lean or frugal,
(If only we had stock in Google).

Sunday, March 15, 2015

Beware the ideas of March

We're all excited on this day,
"Cause half of March has passed away,
But spring ain't sprang until it's sprung,
And winter's final song's been sung.

Friday, March 13, 2015

Meeting on 42nd Street

At 42nd Street, by chance,
They nearly passed without a glance.
Distracted by work's daily crunch,
Both men were rushing back from lunch.

At Third, the traffic light turned red;
They looked around, one blinked, and said,
"Hey, Frank, I can't believe it's true;
Long time, since I bumped into you!"

Frank laughed, delighted, and replied,
"Hi, Tony, hey, I thought you died!
I haven't seen you since last year.
I know I'm right, on that I'm clear."

"Our class reunion had just passed.
Time disappears so bloody fast.
What 's new? You look like things are swell.
I hope the family's doing well."

His friend said, "Yeah, I can't complain;
In fact, we just got back from Spain.
We'd planned to go there since last June,
A kind of second honeymoon."

"It goes too quick, what can I say?
Your wedding seems like yesterday,
But that was - what, ten years ago?"
On green, they both began to go.

The friends shook hands, made plans to meet
For drinks one day right down the street.
Let's not forget, both of them vowed,
Then vanished in the milling crowd.

Thursday, March 12, 2015

On adulthood

We're all in a conspiracy
About our own maturity.
We like to say that we're grown up;
How true is that, if we own up?

Inside, some think they're still eighteen,
Although a mirror mocks that dream;
And others stop at twenty-four,
Adult outside, but nothing more.

The hope is that we age with grace,
not minding wrinkles on our face;
When I'm grown up, I want to be
A person who can live with me.

Wednesday, March 11, 2015

The Great Blizzard of 1888

On March the eleventh, history shows
No one was worrying, "What if it snows?"
The weather was warm for March on this date;
And spring, folks were certain, wouldn't be late.

Curious crocuses peeked above ground,
Birds chirped in chorus, new life was around;
The trees, sap rising, despite winter's blight,
Were bursting with life, buds ripe with delight.

Soft breezes blew, as kids played in the lane,
Joy harmonizing a springtime refrain.
But by late afternoon, casting a pall,
A mantle of snow fell, covering all.

Temperatures chilled, ice coated the trees,
And soon the earth shivered under a freeze.
Snow piled in drifts up to twenty feet high,
Yet on the storm raged, to blot out the sky.

Roads grew impassable, rivers all froze,
Cities shut down, as businesses closed.
Old folks still talk of the blizzard that year;
When winter took charge, her might was quite clear.

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Winter - 2014-15

This year we cringed from winter's blast.
We knew the season couldn't last,
But days were cold, and grey, and drear;
We groaned from winter's force this year.

The frigid weather wouldn't end,
Weak sunlight was a fickle friend,
Time seemed to slow, as in a dream,
The snow and ice remained supreme.

We sought relief in little ways,
Good books, hot tea, to ease our days,
And certainty about one thing;
The knowledge that there would be spring.

Sunday, March 8, 2015

The turtle

The turtle has a sturdy shell
That keeps him dry and warm as well.
He needs it when he starts to roam;
It doubles as his moving home.

Friday, March 6, 2015


When the world ends its run
As an exploding sun
Consumes it in its fire,
Will there still be desire?

When the stars start to dim
At the galaxy's rim,
And they're replaced by night,
Will they recall their light?

Wednesday, March 4, 2015

On lovers

We remember them, those feckless lovers,
As time telescopes, and black night covers
The vestiges of plans we thought supreme.
The answer that we seek, the truth we want,
Resides in darkling memories that taunt;
Those carefree, feckless days are just a dream.
In youth, our lives play like an endless feast,
Until it's finished, and the fun has ceased.

Tuesday, March 3, 2015


Cold Mars, god of war;
The month is full of his work.
He's always busy.

Monday, March 2, 2015

Call me "old man"

I read a script on being old,
And learned my lines; I've got them cold.
I like the role; it suits me fine,
I'm old now, like a classic wine.

All euphemisms are a sin;
Don't call me "senior citizen,"
I know I'm not the only one
Who hates it, if you call me "hon."

And phrases like the "golden years"
Were coined to quell young people's fears.
The condescension makes me sore;
I want respect, and nothing more.

I like my part in this new play,
I explore it every day,
And talking down's something to ban;
I'm proud to call myself old man.