06.16.2021
There once was a man named Morris McShoo
Who wore his shirts too big
And when the mood would strike him so
He’d don an orange peel wig
And when he’d feel a sudden chill
He’d brandish his mouse-skin muff
And when the sun would warm the Earth
He’d take them all off with a huff
And when he saw that summer had come
He moved to the North for the cold
Where he could preserve his clothing preferred
Till the age of his days was quite old
06.15.2021
The pilot’s dream is clouds and horizon
The same as when awake
The ancient pursuit of the venturing man
Dreams to reality make
06.14.2021
Amelia Earhart, if you would believe it
Lives at the end of the block
Don't believe me? Well, that's just fine
You can find out the truth with a knock
Yet who might come to the door just before
Could throw you right off of the track
You see she lives at a big boarding house
With residents stacked front to back
And not just any boarding house
It's a home for aged ace flyers
From all over the globe, pilots come there
To ground their old bones and retire
So you might meet a great, grey astronaut
Who has circled the Earth in his ship
Now he's cooking up bacon for BLTs
With a spatula strapped to his hip
Or you might meet a dusty old vulture
Who bows as he answers the door
His formality wanes as he welcomes you in
Then returns to his meal on the floor
Or you could meet the great balloonist, Sky Fopps
Who sailed the world by his flame
He's grown absent-minded and sometimes forgets
Where he's been as well as his name
On second thought maybe you should not go
Seeking to find Lady Earhart
Chances are slim that she'd come to the door
And once in you might wish to depart
06.11.2021
The frog sat aloft
At the edge of a marsh
And looked ‘cross the water
As the weather grew harsh
And as the rain drenched
Every leaf, rock, and tree
He kept his back dry
Sacrificing his knee
06.10.2021
I once knew a mouse
Who could stand on one hand
He was known the world over
As “One-handed Stan”
He got hired for birthdays
He got hired for schools
He got hired by royals
Who paid with their jewels
He was asked by the czars
To do stands in their halls
And his message machine
Couldn’t hold all their calls
Stan cried as he shook
As his elbow near split
“I’ve got to retire—
I can’t keep up this bit.
I’ve only two hands
At the end of two arms
And I don’t use the left one;
Right-handed’s my charm.
So I’ve got to get out
But I’ll need an excuse
These czars can be petty
There’s reputation to lose.”
Then Stan figured it out
And a plan he did make
An arm injury
He did concoct and fake
For an entire month
He sat on his duff
And ate as he wished
And watched some fun stuff
And he liked it so well
He thought he’d maintain
And so “One-handed Stan”
Never performed again