The Poet--Camouflage

Camouflage

Hunters say they cull the weak

to leave food for the strong.

Grand antlered heads upon their walls

tell all their statement’s wrong.

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The Poet--The Morning Paper

The Morning Paper

I used to like to read the news...

I guess that I do still,

that is if I can find it

within the ads that fill.

A page and a half of ads

bar headlines from my view.

The sports page has the same

from news that has value.

And, then there are the stickers

to tell me of some sale.

To see the front page news beneath

I must peal to unveil.

The pages extra wide of ads

never are by me outspread.

All those gimmicks fill the trash

ere any worthy news is read.

The news is on the internet...

on radio and TV.

But I still buy the paper...

it goes well with coffee. 

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The Poet--The Super Bowl

The Super Bowl 

I know it is the Super Bowl,

the media has told me so.

They have spent two weeks, or more,

to ensure we all will know.

I love football...that is clear.

I watch the contest every year.

I pick the team I deem the best...

adverse outcome drown in beer.

Like most, I have my favored teams

and, when they’re playing, pleasure streams.

But, if the other team should win,

I hold within unkind blasphemes.

Like, every year, I’ll join the throng

as Super Sunday comes along.

Yet, I’ll still bet on who’s the best...

and Baltimore won’t prove me wrong.

{I hope!}

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The Poet--Punxsutawney Phil

Punxsutawney Phil

The people of PA.

have the nerve to say

that Punxsutawney Phil

knows how long that we’ll feel chill.

If he had looked and found no shade,

a big mistake he would have made.

For six more weeks in winter's mill,

and Phil could end up as roadkill.

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The Poet--Books

Books

Read Alice in Wonderland...

don’t watch it on TV.

For when you watch, your mind’s controlled

and is not left roam free.

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The Poet--Genomics

Genomics

Genomics can reveal

what’s stored within your frame...

expose potential for

diseases, health or fame.

Remember though, each answer

can place on you an onus,

for rather than a cure,

the data’s but a bonus.

Your habits and your mores

have led to this crossway...

but,  not too late to pause

to check your DNA.

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The Poet--The Flu

The Flu

From whence came this vile disease,

these Lilliputian Erinyes?

But one penance to be served

or my “Toils of Hercules”?

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