No Soy (Un Devorador De Las Palabras)

Edamame: Fun to say
If not to eat. I like the way
I feel when it departs my mouth
Due east or west, but less so south.

Posted in poetry | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

I Can Hold It

Security: When
You keep working to avoid
Logging in again

Posted in haiku, poetry | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Courtside

Basketball’s a simple sport
Unless you’re clumsy, slow or short.
Coordination, height and speed:
A taste of each is all you need
To play among the game’s elite;
Choose any two, or take a seat.
With one or less, perhaps we’ll see
You courtside? You can sit by me.

Posted in poetry | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Proverbs

When we were young we all were taught
Impatience is what virtue’s not.
The secret to success, they said,
Is two parts heart to three parts head;
If godliness is what you seek,
You need to bathe, like, twice a week.

Is everything we’re taught in youth.
The unadulterated truth?
I hope not, for my mother’s sake–
How many breaks can one back take?
Should sidewalk cracks distress your path,
Relax. Mom’s fine…but take a bath.

Posted in poetry | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

29 To Win

A democratic calendar
That bends to the majority
Would say today is March the First
But I’m a gambler. You know me,
The backer of the underdog,
The striver against odds and might,
So I say, it’s still February!
(Four-to-one; I hope I’m right.)

Posted in poetry | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Roboticists Take Note

If Pam the Dog were still alive
Today she would be forty-five.
As it should happen, that’s about
Her “dog years” age when she checked out
In nineteen-double-seven, when
A mongoose — true — attacked her chin
And pierced a vessel deep inside
Her neck. In two short days, she died.
Hawaii’s quarantine was long
And in the end it done her wrong.
Kipling’s Riki-Tiki-Tavi
Notwithstanding, please be savvy
When exterminating snakes:
Control your tools, for all our sakes.

Posted in poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

(Few / Many) – 1 < 0

The Needs of Few divided by
The Needs of Many yields what I
Suppose is called a proper fraction,
From which One’s a gross subtraction.

Prosperous, he did live long
Enough to write the Bilbo song,
So logic dictates that he’d had
His way with life. And yet, I’m sad.

The Undiscovered Country must
Have dropped its prefix now, I trust;
The search, for Spock, today is done.
We Many left will miss the One.

Posted in poetry | Tagged , , , , , | 1 Comment