Happy Happy!

All the things I like are fun.
Let’s count the ones that aren’t: There’s none!
Happy happy all the day,
Happy me in every way!

Fun is funny, fun is good.
You’re not having fun? You should!
Happy happy all the day,
Happy you in every way!

Happy, funny things are nice.
Have fun with me: We’re happy twice!
Happy happy all the day,
Happy we in every way!

A Tale of Old New England

An island off the coast of Massachusetts
Was home and birthplace to a man whose name
Was…Richard? Ishmael? It’s just no use. It’s
Melville’s curse: The whale gets all the fame.
This gentleman of whom we know so little
Acquired a certain measure of renown
As answer to a local fishing riddle:
Who owns the largest tackle set in town?
He rarely left his home, but through the curtain
Neighbors sometimes spied him in his chair
Playing…oboe? Clarinet? It’s certain
He practiced woodwinds faithfully in there.
The reason, so they say, he never wed
Was that his claim to fame went to his head.


This is poem post two hundred three for the year
And I thought I’d try something unusual here:
In the morning, when juices creative are flowing,
I’ll write, so I don’t approach midnight not knowing
If this is the day that the wordstream runs dry,
And I’m not forced to write on what catches my eye
As I frantically scan my surroundings for clues
To a concept that might, if I force-feed my Muse,
Result in a sonnet, quatrain or haiku
I’ll then rush to thrust into the publishing queue
At the risk of appearing an unlettered bumpkin
For errors induced by the proximate pumpkin…

…well, that was the plan, anyway, but now look:
It’s forty past eight, not that late, but it took
Nearly 900 minutes from “pumpkin…” to “…well,”
And what’s written’s emitting that New Pumpkin Smell
So it’s time to bring verse two-oh-three to its end,
Find a rhymed resolution, click Save, and hit Send.