JUNE WAS BURSTING WITH EXCITEMENT

 

So perplexing this weird month of June 

It’s been hotter than a Sierra wildfire 

I hope that I’ll see my sister soon 

In the meantime we’ll sit and perspire 

We’ve been watching the hearings on January Six 

The picture gets worse by the day 

Trump has been up to his most evil tricks 

I hope he's charged with nine counts of foul play 

French Open tennis, a most historic scene 

Nadal faced Norwegian Casper Ruud 

A straight set win, Rafa’s number fourteen 

Casper, outclassed, was a feckless dude 

Stephen Curry and pals played their finest hoops 

The Warriors won the entire shebang 

My sister Vicki cheered faithfully for the troops 

Now time to relax from the Sturm und Drang 

Our Improv class performed its last show 

A melodrama, “The Factory of Despair” 

We improv’d lines in the ongoing flow 

The teacher’s reaction, “Keen wit and fine flair” 

We attended a friend’s birthday party 

A boat trip along the Ohio 

The crowd was cool and arty 

So long Covid, Oh Me-O-Mio 

Katja’s purse disappeared one day 

We searched every inch of each room 

She called up Visa in utter dismay 

But there was her purse by the broom 

Each night I baited two traps with cheese 

Each morning two bodies of mice 

Murdering mice makes me feel like a sleaze 

One more smallish mouse might suffice 

Our attic air conditioner broke again 

The water poured right through the ceiling 

I first saw a pool on the rug in our den 

“Dog bladder mishap” was my feeling 

Our attic is home to a sizeable beast 

Perhaps an opossum, perhaps a raccoon 

Each night the bumping noises have increased 

We will call the trapper number pretty soon 

Our little dog Iko hates firecrackers 

He whines and crawls under the bed 

I get a bit peeved with the neighborhood slackers 

Though I know there are worse things to dread 

OLLI has started a new poetry group 

It meets every Thursday for eight weeks 

Just what I need to stay in the loop 

And fiddle with poetic techniques

WRITING POETRY

 

Writing a poem is harder 

than walking the dog or 

raking the lawn. 

It’s more akin to 

painting a watercolor 

or cooking a souffle. 

The start’s the worst,  

the foreboding blank page. 

My first few lines are 

trite, blah, so discouraging, 

but I talk myself into persisting. 

I get most inspired when 

writing tales of my childhood. 

In truth, I was an unhappy child 

but in my dotage I permit 

only positive memories. 

My poetic aim is to provide myself 

with a more enjoyable youth. 

My most intractable problem is that 

I’m not naturally poetic. 

I write more like a bookkeeper 

or perhaps an airline pilot. 

Nothing emotional or ambiguous. 

Just clear and to the point. 

I do like to rhyme 

though that’s not in vogue. 

I write more freely 

after a shot or two of Irish whiskey. 

A little buzz loosens me up 

and I can always rewrite another time. 

Every morning I brush my teeth, 

take my pills, and then compose a limerick 

about an event from the previous day. 

My pre-coffee limericks 

are quick and raggedy 

but they remind me that poetry 

is part of my daily existence 

and that I have produced 

something tangible that no one 

has ever thought of before 

(no matter how measly).

LEMON FLAKE

 

If I were to live my life over 

And could choose just five things to repeat 

My very first choice would be Lemon Flake 

Since age ten it’s my number one treat 

They made Lemon Flake at the Ideal Dairy 

They charged just two dips for a nickel 

All of their flavors were scrumptious 

Pineapple and Peach, not to mention Butter Brickle 

 On Sundays my dad brought us to the Ideal 

 Just up the road on Route Five-Seventy-Seven 

 He let us order all the dips that we wanted 

 For kids this was better than Heaven 

 Lemon Flake, of course, was always my choice 

 So creamy and tangy and rich 

 I’d drool at the very thought of it 

 One lick, my nose started to itch 

I’d stop after school, buy a six dip cone 

Ride home on my bike with one hand 

Six dips would last the entire mile 

Who could imagine anything more grand? 

The Ideal shut down after I moved away 

I’ve searched for Lemon Flake every year 

Not in Chicago, New York, or Green Bay 

Gone forever is my doleful fear 

THE END

 

A woman’s voice, barely a whisper, 

“Time to close him down.” 

A still softer voice grunts assent. 

Then a loud screeching sound

like a rusty metal door 

scraping across coarse paving stones, 

fading into an empty black void, 

no sound, no touch, no sensation, 

until a brightly lit portal opens

and my comatose body is being 

propelled through space, 

a kaleidoscope of brilliant colors 

flashing on every side. 

Suddenly a burst of dazzling white rays, 

and a second portal opens, 

giving way to a gentle meadow, 

golden flowers swaying in the breeze, 

hummingbirds and butterflies. 

A familiar voice calls out, 

"We’ve been waiting.” 

My father is alive, 

a young and handsome man, 

my mother standing with him, 

so beautiful. 

The three of us embrace, 

I never dared to dream 

that I could be whole again.

The Slap

 

Chris Rock is a sharp-witted fellow 

but some think he crossed the line 

when he ad-libbed his joke at the Oscars 

about Jada Pinkett-Smith’s closely shaven head. 

“Jada, I love you, ‘G.I Jane 2,’ can’t wait to see it.” 

Jada’s husband Will Smith laughed for a second 

but then his inner demons took over and 

he left his chair and strode to the stage 

and smacked Chris Rock in the face. 

“Keep my wife’s name out of your fucking mouth!” 

“Keep my wife’s name out of your fucking mouth!” 

The audience gasped. Was this staged? 

ABC televised the slap but bleeped the coarse words 

and promptly cut to a commercial break. 

Denzel Washington rushed to Will Smith’s aid 

and officials asked Will to leave the room 

but he wouldn’t move from his chair. 

Forty minutes later he was back on stage 

to receive the Best Actor award 

for his portrayal of Richard Williams,  

Venus and Serena’s volatile dad. 

The Hollywood audience 

burst into a standing ovation. 

In a sobbing, rambling speech 

Will Smith apologized to the Academy 

and to his fellow nominees, 

likening himself to Richard Williams, 

 “a fierce defender of his family.” 

Meanwhile Jane Campion won for Best Director 

and Coda was deemed the Best Picture, 

but six months from now 

all we’ll remember of the 2022 Oscars 

is Will Smith slapping Chris Rock.

SUPER BOWL FIFTY-SIX

 

2022 was our Bengal’s year 

Our return from decades of despair 

Who would have guessed the Super Bowl? 

The thought of it, too much to bear 

The Bengals won the toss and deferred 

Stafford sacked, the Rams had to punt 

Then Burrow’s pass was deflected 

The Rams were back in the hunt 

Stafford to Beckham, the first touchdown 

Then McPherson kicked a Bengals' field goal 

But the Rams marched back down the field 

Touchdown two put them back in control 

The Bengals soon came storming back 

Joe Mixon passed for a trick play 

Tee Higgins caught the ball for a touchdown 

The Rams, 13-10, on the day 

Quarter three, Tee Higgins scored a touchdown 

Even though he grabbed Ramsey’s facemask 

Then the Bengals intercepted Stafford 

Kicker Evan McPherson, up to the task

Fourth quarter, the ball went back and forth 

The Rams finally scored on a one-yard pass 

The Bengal got the ball with one twenty-five left 

But Joe Burrow’s team ran out of gas 

The final score, twenty-three to twenty 

 It easily could have gone the other way 

But our Bengals had a fantastic season 

And we think it a truly great day

NEWS OF THE DAY

 

The president’s numbers are low 

The midterm forecast, pure woe 

The voters are bitter

Mass outrage on Twitter 

The Dems better raise lots of dough 

The Omicron variant is here 

The scariest time of the year 

It spreads like wildfire 

Oldies’ outlooks are dire 

Once again locked away by our fear 

The committee’s investigating the Jan. 6 attack 

We, the public, await their feedback 

Team Trump won’t comply 

Obeying orders from on high 

Even so the committee’s on track 

"Legitimate political discourse” 

That’s the violent insurrection, of course 

The RNC is insane 

Echoing Trump’s false refrain 

When even Mitch McConnell has changed course 

Twitter cancelled Rep. Taylor Greene 

For lying about the vaccine 

Marjorie didn’t blink 

She relishes a stink 

And has endless other ways to be obscene 

Novak Djokovic is under the gun 

He’s put off seeking number twenty-one 

Novak fears the vaccine 

Imagines side effects unseen 

So this year's Grand Slams may be done 

The U. of M. Prez lost his job 

Because of his secret heartthrob 

Emails eking affection 

Hints of carnal predilection 

So Schlissel went out with a sob 

And CNN’S Jeff Zucker resigned 

His love interest put left him in a bind 

Though both were divorced 

Disclosure rules were enforced 

So now Jeff is badly maligned 

The Queen gave the Duchess her blessing

“I’m Queen Consort,” said Camilla, effervescing 

Prince Charles, so glad 

Though Prince Harry is mad 

The monarchy needs this, I’m guessing