Liza McAlister Williams: Drats
I made a list of “current drafts” and when I went to check it,
I saw that in my haste I’d made a blooper fit to wreck it:
I’d copied out, to head the page, a title that was funny:
“A List of Current Drats” I wrote; hey, this could be worth money!
“Drat, I’m late!” “Drat, I’m early!” “Drat! Where does the time go?”
“Drat! I’ve passed my life away!” Drat! Where did this rhyme go?
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Jerome Betts: What’s In A Letter
Submission sent . . . Success! The hack
Is pleased to note another ‘Acc’
Which means the latest verse-attack
Has managed to outstrip the pack.
But nerves remain upon the rack
If ‘Ack’ is all the wretch gets back.
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Tony Peyser: When Ageing Parents Become Sick
Most siblings unite at these times but one often takes a stand
And lets it be known that they won’t lift a finger or lend a hand.
Many families who I’ve spoken with have had one of these types
Who make these crises tougher with their selfishness and gripes.
Take a closer look at your own family and I’ll offer a helpful clue:
If you’re unable to find this person, then I guess it must be you.
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Pat D’Amico: Censorship
I keep my brain
On a higher plane
And disdain any words that are shoddy;
But I will admit
Sometimes there’s a fit
For a rhyme that is funny but naughty
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Terry Tosh: Elixir of Life
Cause celebre
Olfactory delight
Finely ground finesse
Fond dreams of mornings to come
Exuberant anticipation
Elixir of life.
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Wayne De Priest: What’s The Difference?
Ants dipped in chocolate
are favoured by some
who assume a superior air.
These are the same folks
who wouldn’t eat one
that crawled on a chocolate éclair.
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Bruce McGuffin: Winter Bear
A bear leaves its den in the cold winter snow
To go looking for food, and it knows where to go.
It searches back yards till it finds what it needs
Then attacks that bird feeder and eats all the seeds.
A bear is not feathered, in fact it's well-furred,
But a winter bear’s happy to eat like a bird.
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L. A. Mereoie: Fulfilling Fowl-Feeling
I met a chicken-sexer from Japan
Deep in an English shire, a lonely man
Since, language lacking, he was nearly dumb
Until a gesture, finger close to thumb,
Conveyed his rare ability to know
Which fluffy new-hatched chick would lay or crow.
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Jacques Groen: On Dogs
Me and my dog
Two old blokes on a walk
Fighting the odds.
Who’s going first?
Me in a hearse
Or him in the back of the garden.
