A Lion’s Blessing for Man or Beast
Please, don’t blame me—I Must eat you!
There’s really nothing I can do,
for I’m a cat (and as to that,
I had no choice): now I’m at bat.
Yet since I find you’ve changed your mind,
I’m not contrary or resigned
to relegate your dreadful fate
to someone you might delegate
to take your place in your last race,
although, my hunger gives me haste
to finish you, so if you do,
make sure it’s quick because your taste
is on my tongue and now among
the forces of the blood which courses
through my veins (for lions’ manes
will stand on end, my dearest friend,
when meals are nigh). You’re one which I
cannot resist, so I insist
that you desist; instead, enlist
your circumstance and join the dance,
because we know time’s just a chance!
Now yours has come,
and that, in sum,
is my farewell to you.
When Rhyme Goes Thump in the Night (a Poemid)
Once
upon
a time,
the stories
we shared
had
thoughtful
rhyme,
but it
became
a
distraction
as
poorly-rhymed
poems
caused a
painful
reaction
with their
thud and thump
a kick in
the rump;
line after
line a
terrible
design;
monotony
assailed
where
careful tuning failed,
making us
queasier.
But when well-written,
tales
where
pleasant rhyme prevails
makes sharing easier.
The Student Retailer’s Holiday Blues
The days are bleak,
your hours longer;
one more day,
another dollar.
Credit’s weak,
your debt gets stronger;
first you pay—
then scream and holler!
Hold fast! Hope
will soon arrive
as Solstice comes—
oh, thank you, sun!
It helps you cope
so you’ll survive
as Earth now strums
another run.
And by year’s end
the nights get shorter;
less perplexed
and fewer carts.
Around the bend
you find some order—
then your next
semester starts!
Once Upon a Fall (a Fibonacci poem)
A
day
agley,
wandering
free, my foot and knee
decided they would disagree:
each one’s affection taking a different direction,
causing a degree of disconnection which, upon inspection
and due reflection,
had interrupted their connection, and the shin bearing the
consequence of their sin, whence fractured familial affection might begin,
shot a pain to the brain from within. They instantly
stopped and the body quickly dropped,
the knee now wrenched, the brow now drenched (one grabbed
and one mopped),
an event which had not been planned,
but the phone at hand
would let the
fallen
call
in.
A Carpenter of a Different Family
A walrus and carpenter often would wander
along sandy shores and sometimes would ponder
why carpenters like him (Enhydra—an otter),
though very short-legged, was quite a fast trotter
and yet, his long-toothed, stiffly-whiskered
companion,
whose bulk so enormous could fill up a canyon
(Odobenus—genus of family walrus,
confirmed by two reference books and a
thesaulrus),
could keep up by tectonic shifts of his bulk
(though not very stealthy, he never could skulk)
alongside his sleek but much shorter cohorter
who shared in their oyster feasts, eating a
quarter
of what his pal walrus would down every hour
(a furlong of molluscs they’d quickly devour).
For well-balanced discourse, they’d dine by the
water,
but discord prevailed when they played
teeter-totter.
Ken Gosse usually writes short, rhymed verse using whimsy and humor in traditional meters. First published in First Literary Review–East in November 2016, he has also been published by Pure Slush, Home Planet News Online, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, and others. Raised in the Chicago, Illinois, suburbs, now retired, he and his wife have lived in Mesa, AZ, for over twenty years, usually with rescue dogs and cats underfoot.
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