How tweet it isn't

A lot of folks love to tweet,
They think there's nothing fitter;
I think email's much more neat;
I have no love for Twitter.

I can't see much benefit
Except the chance to chatter;
Email has more meat to it;
Tweets use much less grey matter.

It's true a tweet's efficient,
Quick as a Maserati;
But emails are sufficient,
Though scorned by Twitterati.

Which one of them will prevail?
Though Twitter may suit your dreams,
I'll stay the course with emails,
As quick as twittering seems.

Driving while old

The car behind me pulls out in a flash,
Then pulls in front, to be the first one there.
The light turns red. He almost has a crash,
But still, he's ahead, though he got a scare,
And time won't wait! He needs to win this race,
Be number one. The light turns green. He goes.
Amused, I dawdle at a steady pace,
And reach my goal, intact from crown to toes.
His urgent needs are clear, he has to shine:
To have the biggest house, most costly car,
Best-looking wife, and drink the finest wine.
Will that be underlined in his memoir?
I once drove fast, and had no time to lose
When I was young; now slow, is what I choose.

The centipede

The poor unlucky centipede,
With more legs than he'll ever need!
Asked to put his best foot forward,
Which one to choose, must be horrid.

If grandma were alive today ...

Grandma enjoyed the phone so much,
For local gossip, news, and such;
"What number, please?" came from the phone,
Back when there was no dial tone.

And, MI eight-oh-five-four-oh
Was her home number years ago,
Before we'd reached our mobile stage,
When cells are how we now engage.

Our texting, tweets, and emails rate
First place, when we communicate.
If grandma were alive today,
She might not know which choice to weigh.

On having fun

Now that I've reached seventy four,
An age I never was before,
I sometimes stop, and speculate;
Will life be good, at ninety eight?

We know the future's hard to see,
(Though some count on astrology),
And few predictions are correct;
Life happens when you least expect.

When I was in my teenage years,
And full of adolescent fears,
I hoped that I'd reach twenty one,
The age when grownup life's begun.

That was a long, long time ago,
And now, I know just what I know;
Life's like a book, we turn a page,
And learn new things at every stage.

I'm sure, when I reach ninety eight,
There's stuff I'll still anticipate,
Like celebrating ten times ten,
When I'm a centenarian.

And when I've reached one hundred years,
Long-shorn of adolescent fears,
If I don't reach one hundred one,
I'll be content; I've had some fun!

Life is short

"Life is nasty, brutish, short,"
That was Thomas Hobbes' report.
If life's as pointless as he fears,
I see no gain in wasting tears.

On marriage

Wedlock can be a quandary;
Which type of marriage should it be?
Outside the tribe, (exogamy)?
Inside the tribe, (endogamy?

I nixed the thought of bigamy;
Two wives would be too much for me.
I'm too scared by polygamy,
If they got mad, where would I flee?

And so, I settled, finally,
On regular monogamy;
That choice was not the best for me,
But we split up quite happily.

My time's my own now, and I'm free;
I live in peace and harmony,
Enjoying my own company,
Unapologetically.