Salute to William Gilbert

The Pirates of Penzance I did go to see
Gilbert and Sullivan is a definite guarantee
For nonsense to reign and let logic get set free
Just the thing to bring me happiness and glee

Gilbert, the master, could always find a rhyme
For any word or situation, he did it every time
Out of every muddle, mishap, and hill the hero had to climb
Because a sad ending would really be a crime

The stories are ridiculous, the characters are trite
But Mr. Gilbert was never ever any too uptight
To describe every silly saga as a perilous plight
Much to my sheer and thoroughly entertained delight

The silliest stanzas get repeated and repeated
Never, ever, ever would they ever be deleted
Since we the audience would then feel rather cheated
For the show for which we were staying seated

In comparison my own poems are almost somewhat serious
Although I try to make each one extremely cheerious
I could write until my eyes were bloodshot and blearious
And never come up with something quite so downright delirious

Daydreaming

No poem last week, too busy driving
The two day trek to Vermont, where I’m now thriving

Gardening, canoeing, and writing galore
How I’ll spend my summer, of that I am sure

Our shack up here we’ve named Daydream Cottage
Hubby and cat and I love it a lottage

The porch is where I’m at most of the time
Watching ducks and loons, all most sublime

The internet is hit or miss, with no TV at all
So much seclusion and quiet. I’m having a ball!

Comma Trauma

I’ve never been the Queen of Drama,
But the Oxford Comma
Causes me stress, strain, and trauma.

Semi-colons by comparison are easy;
Their rules are far less breezy.
No need to get all ill, upset, or queasy.

Periods don’t take a whole lot of thought.
They never make me even mildly distraught,
Happily aiding my characters, dialogue, and plot.

What about exclamation points, the curious might ask.
Are they apt to lead you to the flask?
No. Not even those are a chore, job, or task.

Sweet little colons are also not too bad
I use them so seldom; they make me not sad.
And as this poem finds an end, aren’t you happy, joyful, and glad?

But comma dilemmas really haunt me a lot.
The nuances of usage I still do not got.
But enough of this silliness, absurdity, and rot.

Chihuahua Dreamin’

Hubby says I’ve gone completely ga-ga
Because I really, really want a chihuahua

Friends warn me they go yippity-yappity
But I’ve never heard even one go zippity-zappity

What simply can’t be variable
I want a dog that’s completely carryable

And a chihuahua’s demeanor seems so happy-go-lucky
Even around great big dogs, they are rather plucky

But Betty the cat insists our house will not hold
Both her and a tail-wagging creature so bold

So alas my chihuahua remains just a wild hope
Until one day still dogless, I won’t be able to cope

Hip Hip Hooray

I’m running away–in one week I’ll be free
The semester is ending and my heart fills with glee
Some final exams and then graduation. Tee-hee!

Students would be scandalized, if they did know
How doing without them makes my heart glow
Okay, so my incentive to teach is at an all time low

Blame me if you wish, but please get out of my way
Summer is upon us and I ain’t wasting a day
Worrying about work. It is time to play.

Hip hip hooray!

Hoppy Easter

A holiday weekend and spring is here
The kid in me wants to stand up and cheer

Friday night was Passover at our neighbors’
We drank the fruit of the vine, reclined, and took a rest from our labors

Elijah stayed away despite a clear invite
Oh well, the rest of us had a real pleasant night

Saturday we gardened and watched the Masters
We shopped and we planned so Easter dinner would not be a disaster

Biscuits and ham and Easter lasagna with artichokes
The table decorated with bunnies–they’re right cute little blokes

Church and cooking and mingling with friends
And now it appears our weekend is at an end.

So happy holiday greetings to you all I do hereby send.

A Premiere Performance

Abelard and Heloise: The Musical
The concept is rather quizzical
I mean, what in tarnation?
Their love affair ended in castration

Now that I have your attention
Perhaps I ought to mention
I teach history at a community college
And of medieval things have some knowledge

In the Twelfth Century Abelard taught Latin lit
And Heloise, his star student, would sit
And listen to his brilliance hour upon hour
Until he got her pregnant and things suddenly went sour

Here’s where the castration thing comes into play
Her Uncle Fulbert said Abelard should rue the day
When he seduced Heloise so young and innocent
And into monasteries the ill-fated lovers went

The Pere Lachaise Cemetery in Paris now holds their remains
And me, a medieval historian and a tad bit insane
Visited them on Christmas day a long time ago
And last night I went to see their musical show

Abelard’s calamities are not for the faint of heart
But setting them to lyre music provides a good start
Odd-shaped bongos, tambourines, and an instrument I know not
For a donation at the door, I sure got a lot.

Ode to Champagne

Oh, the horror of it
It happened, it’s true
I opened my fridge
And knew I was through

No champagne!

I searched on the shelf
I checked in the door
I went to the cupboard
Hoping to score

No champagne!

I ran to my neighbor’s
And told her the troubley
I asked if I might borrow
A cupful of bubbly

No champagne!

She searched in her fridge
And double-checked in the door
She went to her cupboard
Hoping to score

No champagne!

Continuing my quest
I hopped into my car
Surely a supply of the stuff
Couldn’t be far?

No champagne!

To the market I hastened
I cut through the crowds
Made a beeline for the wine cooler
And shouted out loud

Champagne!

I bought a dozen bottles
There’s a discount that way
And ignoring the disapproving glances
Stepped up to pay

Oh Champagne!

The refrigerator replenished
My cupboard completed
I raised up my goblet
And this solemn vow repeated

Oh Champagne!

Life is too short
So I shall take a firm stand
To always keep a champagne stash
Chilled and on hand

My Moody Muse

When my muse comes down with a horrid blight

The writing goes wrong with no end in sight

Every word, thought, and sentence turns out trite

Leaving me feeling oh so contrite

And wondering if an end will appear for my impossible plight

But when the writing goes right

My muse alights

To amazing new heights

Of creative delights

Then the sun shines bright

And my mood takes flight!

Proper ID Required

A rose is still a rose

By any other name.

But if Rose gets mislabeled Samantha

The author is to blame

The Charlie I was so sure of

Informs me about mid way

That really deep down inside himself

He’s always been a Jay

Syd’s Bar and Grill on Finch Street

Never seemed quite right

The bar became Beau’s Bistro

And the happy hour brewski turned into a red wine flight.

I struggle with accurate naming

A good moniker means a lot

Since a character misidentified

Can really mess up a plot