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Herring Gull standing looking left.

Jean L. Kreiling: Harbourside Musings

Surveying boats and bay, he mulls
the buoyancy of heavy hulls,
the spindly landing gear of gulls,
which oars are properly called sculls,

what qualifies a tide as neap,
why crabs move with that sideways creep,
if clams can dream – or even sleep,
why lobster prices are so steep,

and whether mulling makes him deep.

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Michael Swan: Hello, Son

‘Hello, fairy godmother.
You again.’
‘Hello, son.
I’ll give you a choice.
Twenty quid now
or you can be recognized after your death
as the greatest poet of the age.’ 
‘Make it twenty-five.’ 

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Steven Kent: Lesson Learned

When I was young and knew it all, I’d find myself astonished
At wisdom I could offer to the others I admonished
On each and every topic: true religion, child-rearing,
Love, politics, and finance (I could be quite domineering).

How very, very long ago! Today's another story.
No longer do I revel in this rush of youthful glory,
For time reveals the limits of our meagre comprehension;
Revising old opinions now demands my full attention.

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Bruce McGuffin: More Than One Platypus?
The OED is telling me 
One platypus is great.
But can't decide what I should say
If I have six or eight.
It's half a dozen platypuses?
Perhaps six platypi?
Or just that many platypodes?
How do I choose, and why?

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Max Gutmann: The Great Repeater

The way its rigid pattern goes,
The triolet repeats a lot.
A canny reader quickly knows
The way its rigid pattern goes.
It's an enchanting form to those
Whose memory's completely shot.
The way its rigid pattern goes,
The triolet repeats. A lot.

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Bruce Bennett:  Facebook Widows                   

Facebook Widows creep about.
Husbands might as well be out
since they’re always glued to screens.
Separateness is what it means.

Emptiness; a kind of grief,
Yes, but also a relief.
Freedom grants a kind of ease.
Now they can do as they please.

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Terese Coe: AI 101

(Inspired by Bruce Bennett's "A Bot is A Bot"
in Lighten Up Online  for June 2023.)

Because it does not know it does not know
A bot writes out of ignorance and then
Declines to cite its references or show
What facts have been involved, and where or when. 

Artificial intelligence is not 
Intelligence – it’s sly regurgitation. 
As any smartass knows, it has a shot
At deep-embedding sheer hallucination. 

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Gail White; Portrait of Saint with Cat

Blessed are those
who fast and pray,
who hold temptation’s
wiles at bay,

while on their knees
they may caress
a furry nest
of selfishness.

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David Lee Garrison: Edgewise

His obit says he had the gift of gab.
He was a braggart and a know-it-all.
A word in edgewise was a win. Blab
was in his obit as the gift of gab,
a euphemism for his tiresome drawl.
Even divided in three parts – all gall.
His obit says he had the gift of gab.
He was a braggart and a know-it-all.

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Nick Wynne: Oh Well . . .

Because of inflation
I have chosen cremation.
My earthly remains
Will transform to cremains
And, after the burn,
Rest encased in an urn
Standing all by itself
On somebody's shelf.

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An Obvious Sign: Pat D’Amico

Here’s to those who hold the reins
On mega yachts and fleets of planes.
Increasingly, we share the earth
With millionaires who flaunt their worth  
And revel in the many joys
Of more and more expensive toys.
There’s one sign, though, they will be marking:
At the Pearly Gates, there is “No Parking”.

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L.A. Mereoie: The Pub-Crawl’s Progress

They patronised The Dog and Duck,
     The Redstreak Tree, The Pig and Whistle,
Before the famed old Fallow Buck,
     But scorned its pies – They’re mainly grishle!!
Then tried The Hop-Pole’s potent brew,
     Plus cider, rough, from local farms  
 Which no sane visitor should do
   And led to our . . . Policeman’s Arms.

Dog and Duck pub sign