My love swears I snore like a bear
This is a husband’s fate.
A wife’s is to give thankful prayer
That men don’t hibernate.
Sleep Over
Tag: nature
Snow Job
No sunburned noses at the beach
No crab apples just out of reach
No jasmine to infuse the breeze
No lavender to make us sneeze
No sandals piled outside the door
No evening strolls along the shore
No watching cats chase butterflies
No lemonade, no record highs
No counting ants, as they file past
No starlit skies, now overcast.
Even old folks can’t remember
Why it is, we have November.
Glad Tidings
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 so, we’re right to question:
What’s the deal with volcanoes?
Darwinner
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
Preferring life inside a swamp.
Perhaps, the way to win the race
Is holding at a steady pace.
The croc has this down to an art
And 80 million years’ head start.
With Fronds Like These
To many an anemone
The fear is any Yemeni
Who ofttimes like an enemy
Sauteed and slightly lemony
4n Language
The budding poet soon suspects
The pointlessness of: Solve for x
Nut Job
The rule for pomegranates reads:
Discard the pith and eat the seeds
A feat which calls for more bravado
With our friend, the avocado
Fall Guy
Speckled gourds and pumpkin pie
Picking chestnuts where they lie
Parsnips breaking through the soil
Beetroot ready for the boil
Plump tomatoes on the vine
Pressing apples, homemade wine
Mason jars stacked row on row
Lavender tied with a bow
Farmers whistling this old tune
Underneath a Harvest Moon
A Reptile Dysfunction
Explorers who first reached the Nile
Soon came upon a crocodile
Whose improprieties lay steeped in lore.
The wily reptile would beguile
An out-of-towner with a smile
Belying a betrayal at its core.
Dear friend, I wish to welcome you!
How was the road from Timbuktu?
Come near that I may hear what news you bear…
In truth, the beast had had its fill
Of horns and hooves and ibis bills
And thus, resolved to seek more tender fare.
The wayfarer, now curious
Despite all signs injurious
Would take the bait, not wishing to be rude
Recounting tales of spitting snakes
Of feuding sheikhs and salted lakes
And bartering with Bedouins for food.
Then we must feast! the creature cried
If you will let me be your guide
We’ll cross to where the spoils are most exotic.
It’s just offshore, a pleasant ride
Do climb aboard and sit astride!
And voyage with me into the aquatic.
To eat one friend is impolite
To eat two speaks to appetite
To eat them all may lead to the odd question.
But be it large or small amounts
To some it’s what’s inside that counts
A thought our croc is currently digesting.
Bad Air Day
“It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity”
A mantra of utter stupidity
For, muggy or not
Let’s agree that it’s hot
Before tackling the lacking aridity
Mr Ormsby At Large 