Category Archives: Poetry

Poem – For My Critics

With due credit to The Book of Numbers, and Monty Python

For my critics

For those who criticize
My poetic assays
Taking offense at my words,
I take Balaam’s defense:
I can only write
What I am told to write.
If you still object,
My ass will speak
In your general direction.

Hanukah Hay(na)ku

The Hay(na)ku form is a six-word tercet, with one word in the first line, and two words in the second line. Syllables are irrelevant. Multiple Hay(na)ku can be chained together.

I thought it would be appropriate to write some holiday-related Hay(na)ku.

Hanukah Hay(na)ku

Candles
flicker; families
sing Maoz Tzur.

Latkes:
With applesauce
or sour cream?

Celebrating
religious freedom:
Twirling toy tops.

Kids:
gelt given
for dreidel playing
becomes
Tzedakah when
the spinning stops.

Poem: Agitate

Agitate

A slightly overweight
middle-aged man
my weapon of choice
is my keyboard.

I write to agitate.

I hope my readers are entertained,
but I also hope their brains
get a little action in the process.
A slight jog,
maybe a few push-ups.
I’m not asking for a decathlon.

Sure, I’d like them
to share in my conclusions,
but I’m not delusional,
so I challenge those who disagree
to sheath their tongues.

(The mouth’s floppy mass
frequently ignores
messages from the skull.)

Convince me I’m wrong
with the written word.

Poem Found in My Drawers

I realize this poem is out of season. Found it on a slip of paper in one of my drawers today.

Explaining Only Ruins It

There’s probably something wrong
with the workings of my brain.

I’ve decided to eat antipasta,
while watching Lon Chaney
on the Sunday following Easter.
I’m not even Italian,
or Catholic.

I am a fan of Victor Hugo, though,
and I like Italian food,
so it seems appropriate.

The Red-Billed Oxpecker

I found this poem in my drafts folder. I wrote it back in January of 2011.

The Red-Billed Oxpecker

She builds her nest
with energy
she plucks
from the souls
of her co-workers.

Poem: Purely Metaphorical

Here’s another poem I recently found in my archives.

Purely Metaphorical

I browse the brickyard
For the appropriate projectile
To hurl at the subhuman
Demagogue demonstrating
His lack of a brain
bright enough
To enlighten an electron.

Poem: Dangle

The blog has been post-free for a bit too long, so I thought I’d share a poem I recently wrote.

Dangle

The argyle sweater worn
by the King Charles Cavalier,
belonging to the wife
of the Chief of Police,
steamed
in the noon-day sun,
as he was led through the park
by an intern,
doing his duty.