The rainbow is God’s promise
Not to end all life again
A sign that all He wants is
For mankind to be His friend.
Forgiving past transgressions,
God protects Man as he goes
And yet, we’re right to question:
What’s the deal with volcanoes?
The hunch that Evolution sold
Extolling those who break the mold:
Life’s go-getters, the versatile
Does not include the crocodile.
Throughout its 80 million years
As each Age comes, then disappears
Left standing in the starting blocks
The croc has yet to change its socks.
Quite unconcerned with each debut
Of nature’s latest ingénue
These veterans forgo the pomp
In favor of a stagnant swamp.
In life, the way to win the race
Is at a slow but steady pace
The croc has this down to an art
Plus 80 million years’ head start.
When Carter’s party found the tomb
Of Pharaoh King Tutankhamun
They gazed upon the scene with some dismay
At cups and bowls strewn all about
Discarded clothes, some inside-out
In random piles of total disarray.
Add rotting fruit, some moldy bread,
Old board games found beneath the bed
And robbery was feared with utter gloom.
Though if he’d had a son, or two
He would have known, as parents do
That’s how most teenage boys will leave a room.
What did they face
In such a place
Striking them dumb
Leaving them numb?
Piteous sounds
Cold rifle rounds
The stench of death
In every breath.
No hand to hold
No growing old
Falling as rain.
Never again.
We sprang from a primordial soup
Of RNA and cosmic goop
We breathed through gills and swam in schools
Among the depths and rocky pools
Bedazzling, streamlined, clad in scales
Propelled by tails with fins for sails.
Until one day, so goes the lore
We cast a fishy eye to shore
And surfed the tide across the sand
To where the water meets the land.
Not ones to walk, we lacked technique
All thanks to our unique physique
But in the end we found our feet
Soon after, gills were obsolete.
Yet, Evolution is perverse
And sometimes throws it in reverse…
For, now we’ve waterparks with slides
We snorkel, sail and scuba dive
We swim with dolphins, live on boats
And teach our small fry how to float.
Tots splash in puddles with delight
While summer’s one long water fight
Still, others love the touch of rain
But when asked Why? they can’t explain.
We left a world now out of reach
The day we clambered up that beach
The price of such a compromise?
This constant need to moisturize.
You see a marble
I see the moon
You hear a garble
I hear a tune
You hold me closer
Without a sound
I’m life’s composer
Writing it down
Laughing, blue-eyed girl
Reconciled to fate
Ermine laced with pearl
Elizabeth The Great
In Physics, nothingness has weight
Which leads to some disquiet
Among the more dense who debate:
So, why then do we diet?
A lot of people ask me the difference between Canadians and Americans. Well, first the facts: our country’s larger, our population’s smaller, Canadian men liked wearing clogs in the ’70s and we’ve never considered testing the viscosity of spray cheese in space a worthwhile scientific endeavour.
I noticed while working abroad that colleagues soon began substituting American with North American in conversation. Such gestures are certainly appreciated but only serve to remind Canadians that while Americans have fifty states, we have only one: self-consciousness. Every Canadian feels guilty knowing their new co-workers are constantly bricking it lest they should inadvertently refer to us as American, a situation which can only ever lead to our greatest export: the apology. We’re famous for apologizing – we even apologize for it. I recognize that, even close up, we look and sound like our U.S. counterparts to most people. The differences are subtle, even to us sometimes. It is, however, my belief that the best way to differentiate between our two cultures is to study America’s greatest cultural icon: Barbie.
America has Malibu Barbie who likes strolling along the beach with the ocean breeze in her hair… Canada has Seal Hunt Barbie who is a crack shot.
Malibu Barbie drives a Dream Camper Van with built-in kitchen and fold-out tent… Ice Road Trucker Barbie cooks roadkill under the hood and homeschools three kids in her sleeper cab.
Prom Queen Barbie comes with her very own makeup and accessories table… Lumberjack Barbie’s sporting a Leafs toque in her wedding photos.
American Barbie hails from Wisconsin, studied in New York and now lives with her parents and younger sisters in California… Canadian Barbie was taken into care after her parents became addicted to online bingo and were caught trying to sell their own kidneys on ebay.
American Barbie dates long-term boyfriend, Ken… Canadian Barbie’s best friend is an orphaned bear cub whose mother was shot dead by two tourists up from Oregon for the weekend.
American Barbie is cosmopolitan and culturally sensitive… Yukon Barbie saw her first Sikh last week and asked him for three wishes.
American Barbie is a role model for her millions of followers on the internet… Canadian Barbie is completely unaware that a video of her bathing in what she thought was a secluded watering hole has placed her in Pornhub’s Top Ten.
Vegetarian Barbie only buys food from locally sourced producers… Marijuana Farm Barbie patrols the perimeter of her property in a JLTV.
American Barbie spent a fun-filled New Year’s Eve with Ken in Times Square… Canadian Barbie pointed out Ursa Major in the night sky to her orphaned bear cub – and apologized.
Old King Henry had six wives
Whose days were full of dread
For most of them led tragic lives
Then often wound up dead.
Catherine of Aragon
To whom he first proposed
Could not produce a princely son
So he said Adios!
Then Anne Boleyn, closer to home
Demanded that they wed
So Henry cut off ties with Rome
And then cut off her head.
Poor Jane Seymour was the one
Who finally played her part
When she, at last, produced a son
But died, which broke his heart.
Anne of Cleves, the next one booked
Was regal, young and wealthy
The problem was she didn’t look
Quite like her royal selfie.
Catherine Howard, it was said
No man had ever dated
But rumours spread after they’d wed
So was decapitated.
Catherine Parr, a lively sort
Who wielded her own power
Helped organise his kids and court
Once she’d escaped The Tower.
All Henry wanted was a son
A prince whom he could teach
To rule his people when he’d gone
But this was out of reach.
The irony which overwhelms
This patriarchal scene?
He gave to England and its realms
Perhaps their greatest queen
Because Young Bess, put to the test
Excelled in her employ
And showed the world it takes a girl
To do it like a boy.
Mr Ormsby At Large 