Draw Your Own Conclusions.
That nasty storm Dorian is one mean hurricane,
It’s left the Bahamas behind, but in a world of pain,
Among Florida’s citizenry dark clouds started to form-
Fear not, President Trump has his eye on the storm.
He believes he knows where it will make landfall
And Alabama’s fine folk had better heed his call,
For no matter how hard Mother Nature blows
Wherever Donald proposes is where Dorian goes.
An incredulous gasp is expelled by the weathermen,
Stunned by the Presidents sharp forecasting acumen,
They all believed he’d simply be a meteorological moron,
No doubts now, since he has their maps to draw on.
More Of The Same.
It was just another routine traffic stop
Or so thought the Odessa, Texas, traffic cop,
But you’re free to carry a shootin’ iron in the Lone Star State
And some ornery Texans prefer straight shootin’ to talkin’ straight.
The Texas Governor Greg grieves over the horrific toll
But Abbott’s not able to be convinced on gun control,
On the contrary, instead of any controls he’d rather
Give any fool who can afford a firearm open slather.
Going Blondly Where None Have Gone Before.
Since Boris Johnson has taken command
Of England’s grim and unpleasantly divided land
Do you wonder where Parliamentary democracy went?
That question gets short shrift from Boris The Omnipotent.
Want some time for Parliamentary debate?
Boris smilingly says ‘sorry, but time’s up, too late,’
Now that Boris’s big butt’s behind the steering wheel
It’s foot down to throttle any rumblings about his no deal.
BoJo is hellbent on doing what Teresa couldn’t achieve,
Boris’s going to fu- fly off, and without a buy-your-leave,
Driving blindly forward to where there’s no coming back,
Bozo’s exiting,hard, Right, into a cold unfriendly cul-de-sac.
Where does one begin
To talk about a dog like Finn?
You acquired a dog one joyous day
For what seemed a fair price to pay.
His whining kept you up half the night-
Oh, you’d been sold a pup all right.
Want to take a drive, go for a ride?
Open the door, be brushed aside.
A quick stop outside the butchers shop
And the drooling would never stop.
Return to excited nose prints on the glass-
Open the window- his farts will pass.
Take him for a walk in the park,
That hound was bound to leave his mark.
You get a doggy grin and a tail wag
And a steaming Pak’n’Save bag.
Then, once walkies were done
Finn might well fire off another one!
That dog was trouble, right from the start
And then he goes, and breaks your heart.
So farewell Finn and farewell Smith,
Proof mans best friend is no mere myth.
A Kick In The Guts.
Since a humourous poetry competition rejected the fine words I’d written
I’ve been forced to take some time to review the ill-fated verse submitten,
Now to add to my mental misery, by a virulent stomach flu I’ve been smitten,
If the first upset left me sick as a dog, the second leaves me weak as a kitten,
Regurgitating my turned down offerings was unsettling I don’t mind admittin’,
Keeping cruel criticism and chicken soup down ain’r easy- from where I’m sittin’.
Real Estate Buffoon.
Donald thunked ‘wouldn’t it be great
To make Greenland the fifty-first state?’
For Don this expensive venture holds great appeal-
And Trump could bank on Treasury to finance his deal.
To Donald, something about this place feels right,
Yes, it is a particularly strategically important military site,
But imagine, Dons own snow-white impenetrable garrison?
Suddenly Puerto Rico’s importance pales in comparison.
It would be his greatest deal, save for one small detail;
Those damn Danes say their territory is NOT for sale,
Don looks jealously at those rolling fields of green,
What a great private golf resort it could’ve been.
Checked my E-mails, same old dull routine,
Then a new missive lights my dull grey screen,
News from a competition entered loooong ago,
Click ‘open’, oh, but don’t get my hopes up though.
I’ve so hoped for the best before,
And I’d be disappointed once more.
Again, rejection, painful but not unexpected,
Again my select name amongst the unselected,
But after a sigh, a roll of the eyes and a rueful smile
I thought I’d read what wonders had topped the pile.
Perhaps, judging by the mood I was in
I shouldn’t judge- but where can I begin?
One thing required in a humourous poem contest
Is content that leaves one laughing, not depressed,
I’ll agree it is the good judges call to be fair, firm and tough
And I’ll allow my work this year- and hers- ain’t good enough.