Terese Coe: American Horrors: Poison Ivy
In summer never tempt me
to wander off the deck.
No goddess will exempt me
from Toxicodendron dreck.
The rural neighborhoods
are hardly a benediction.
What caused our Eden’s woods
to slither with affliction?
ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ
Philip Kitcher: A Less Immaculate Conception.
If he were still alive, would Gian Bellini,
stick to his chosen path, and want to paint
a different vision of his pet Madonna,
accompanied by yet another saint?
Or would he view this subject as a goner,
and further variations sadly quaint?
He lived when Virgin Studies was the rage –
what theme depicts the values of our age?
A buxom bimbo, busting her bikini …
with stubbly escort . . . in a Lamborghini . . . ?
ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ
J. D. Smith: In Marriage Bed
She has the gift of sleep, as I do not.
With hours of wakeful woe in store,
In quite another existential slot—
She has the gift of sleep, as I do not—
I toss and turn and contemplate my lot:
To watch her dream, perchance to snore.
She has the gift of sleep, as I do not,
With hours of wakeful woe in store.
ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ
L.A. Mereoie: Counter Comment
In tones the opposite of sweet
A butcher to a friend:
“Damn those who dictate what we eat,
Or carp at what we vend,
Campaign to see us obsolete
And fund the ‘plant-based’ trend.
I hope they fail to make ends meet
And bring about meat’s end!”
ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ
Tony Peyser: Sir Tim Berners-Lee
Everyone from Addis Ababa to Zagreb
Knows he invented the World Wide Web.
This led to the internet which, perfected ,
Saw the entire planet wind up interconnected.
There’s now never a reason to be bored
As long as you have access to a keyboard.
The WWW helps us fulfill every digital desire:
We stare at screens like cavemen did at fire.
ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ
George Stanworth: It’s Not Me –It’s You!
When you’re wrong – defend, deflect.
Blame some others for your act.
Soon enough they’ll all forget.
When you’re wrong – defend, deflect.
Answer different questions set.
Convince them that your lies are fact.
When you’re wrong – defend, deflect.
Blame some others for your act!
ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ
Jean L. Kreiling: The Chopin Effect
It all depends, of course, on what I’m playing:
the Waltzes nudge me into graceful swaying,
an Etude stretches and confounds my fingers,
the gloom of the C minor Prelude lingers,
a Polonaise fills me with Polish pride
(a neat trick, since I’m Irish on each side),
a Scherzo rouses an internal squall,
and maybe most compelling of them all,
the Nocturnes moan and brood and weep for me –
and Chopin doesn’t charge for therapy.
ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ
Tom Vaughan: Undeterred
My whole life has been lived beneath
the shadow of the Bomb
knowing we could be wiped out by
a nuclear maelstrom –
how mad indeed that we don’t draw
despair and gloom therefrom
but mostly carry on with such
remarkable aplomb.
ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ
Philip Kitcher: The Lost World
(Labour promises to end badger cull. The Guardian)
They are grouped where the willows droop, leafless and dry,
at the bend, where the river runs sluggish and dull
since the flow was diverted to serve ICI.
There’s a single survivor who lived through the cull.
When that last one, old Badger, creeps out from his hole,
he is lost in his thoughts of the follies of Toad,
of this afternoon’s party with Ratty and Mole . . .
He is deaf to the click of the guns as they load.
ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ
David Blumenfeld: Post Retirement . . .
"Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be, "
Yes, these, they claim, are golden years
to be enjoyed with all your peers,
the ones, they mean, with health and heft,
however few of them are left.
But, though R. Browning, poet sage,
wrote lovely lines, they can't assuage
the sober fact, my foes and friends,
there's just one place where all this ends.
ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ
Bruce Bennett: Some Other Place
I know I am forgetful.
That’s always been the case.
What I thought I’d remember
is in some other place.
But lately I’ve grown worried,
since more and more I find
that what I can’t remember
is where I’ve left my mind.
ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ
Jane Blanchard: Indulgence
(At Canterbury Cathedral)
Some scientists remain aloof
from what goes on in church
but long for access to the roof
where birds routinely perch.
It seems authorities allow
such irreligious lust
in certain experts who know how
to vacuum cosmic dust.
ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ
Alexander Blustin: Venus Design Failure
Love, being poorly designed,
Strikes even the best of us blind –
You can’t get enough,
Then the going gets tough;
They’re scratchy, the deep ties that bind.
No sooner proposed than declined –
Why should love be tricky to find?
Terrains of the heart
Are a bad place to start,
Unstable and usually mined.
