Poems of the Week

Emission Control

by Steven Urquhart Bell

“Human sperm ‘get lost’ in space, pioneering study finds”
Scientific American

The evidence that human sperm would struggle
To fertilize an egg in space is growing.
It seems that microgravity confounds them—
They don’t know if they’re coming or they’re going.

Tiger

by Mike Mesterton-Gibbons

“Tiger Woods showed signs of impairment and was arrested Friday at the scene of a car crash in which he struck another vehicle and rolled his Land Rover, authorities said.”
PBS

Tiger Woods, who so recklessly drives,
If he’s not driving golf balls, survives
Giant wrecks that spare no
Earthly mortal. How so?
Reason: Tiger’s a cat—with nine lives!

Upon Seeing a Solid Milk Chocolate Cross at Walmart at Eastertime

by Nicole Caruso Garcia

We bite the spongy heads off Peeps,
sweet bunnies’ ears we gnaw.
Now stumbling on a chocolate cross,
who wouldn’t stuff their maw?

Our Lenten fast is done at last,
our pious abnegation.
Jesus saves, so chomp His cross—
the path to salivation.

No Easter basket should omit
so scrumptious a depiction,
‘cause nothing whets the appetite
like good ol’ crucifixion.

Let heathens have their jellybeans,
just give them righteous eye rolls—
Christ’s mode of tortured execution
melting in our pie holes.

Pete Hegseth

by Shaun Jex

“At Pentagon Christian service, Hegseth prays for violence ‘against those who deserve no mercy’”
The Associated Press

Pete Hegseth
Prayed, Grant us our enemies’ death.
Let their breathing and heartbeats cease
In the name of the Prince of Peace.

Our Friend in Need

by Bruce Bennett

“Chatbots are anything but fair-minded mediators, according to a major study published yesterday. They’re toadies. They want you to know you’re in the right.”
The New York Times

My chatbot tells me I am right.
I knew that all along,
but wanted its assurance that
I’m not, and can’t be, wrong.

How wonderful to have a friend
as faithful as my bot,
especially since that faithful friend’s
the only friend I’ve got!

Happy Twist

by Julia Griffin

“Original Nancy from 1968’s ‘OLIVER!’ Shani Wallis auditions [for Britain’s Got Talent]. … This BGT Unseen exclusive is a moment our Judges will never forget.”
YouTube

Certain he needed you, you stayed with him,
With your bright hair, your dress of bloody red.
When I first saw you, I was nine. Your grim
(Though hidden) end did something to my head.
“Who else would love him still?” Well, no one sane,
Clearly; how could you stay just to be hit?
I longed to save you, fix your fate, your brain,
But scared (“What, fisticuffs?”) to think of it.
And then, this month, a half-forgotten name,
Aged 92, white-haired, with posher vowels,
You burst onto the little screen, still game,
Piercing all hearts—yes, even Simon Cowell’s.
Nancy! You saw off needy Bill, stayed true
To one ex-child who still, it seems, needs you.

Noteworthy News

by Steven Urquhart Bell

“‘A toad is a perfect tenner’: experts recommend wild candidates for new banknotes”
The Guardian

For ten-pound notes, I nominate
The common eel, ’cos it’s
Symbolic of the way they’re always
Slipping through my mitts.

Come Buy!

by Eddie Aderne

“Why has goblin porn eclipsed literary writing?”
The Oldie

Can you conceive a headline more affrighting?
The great Reviews of Books fall back, forlorn;
For all their efforts, literary writing
Now finds itself eclipsed by goblin porn.

Though narratives be wholly unreliable
With temporally shifty points of view,
They can’t compete with the bizarrely pliable
Contortions of some hairy bugaboo.

“My works are polyvalent, polychromic!”
The latest critical sensation cries;
The answer is a line you might call gnomic:
“Our weekly earnings dwarf the Booker Prize.”

The cash pours in, the Gringotts vaults are rolling;
They’re quite unfazed by your distaste and scorn.
In fact, they class your best critiques as trolling,
The gloating marketeers of goblin porn.

On the Trumpoline

by Paul Burgess

He told them, “Jumping on the Trumpoline
will line your pockets full of folding green,”
but while he bounces up and down with glee
the only change in cost my eyes can see
is soaring rates on fueling stations’ pumps
increasing every time His Highness jumps.

Coincidence, No Doubt

by Steven Kent

“How Trump’s Homeland Security Pick, a Prolific Investor, Got a Lot Wealthier in Congress”
The New York Times

As Senate members go, there’s none much dumber,
Yet Mullin’s mighty rich for just a plumber,
A grifter deeply steeped in Trump’s tradition
Of dealings guaranteed to spawn suspicion.
Did inside trading fuel his fine portfolio?
There’s more to see, we know, in this imbroglio.

Doggone

by Felicia Nimue Ackerman

“Am I too old to get a dog?… At the moment, I can walk a dog eight blocks to the beach, trot along the sand, and toss its favorite toy a pathetic distance — which is far enough. … But things change.”
The Boston Globe

To get a dog—is it too late?
You might be blithely tempting fate.
No need for you to hazard that.
Forget the dog and get a cat!

National Badgedy

by Julia Griffin

“[T]he Bank of England has announced that the next update of British banknotes will end the half-century tradition of designs featuring historic notables. … Nigel Farage posted a video on X about his fury… . Liberal Democrat leader Ed Davey said that Churchill ‘deserves better than being replaced by a badger’”
The Guardian

Brockedy shockedy,
National currency
Might exchange Churchill for
Badgers. Bizarre!

Pace those wearisome
Environmentalists,
This is a notion that
Earns no cigar.

Weight Off My Mind

by Steven Urquhart Bell

“The resistance training traps we fall into—and how to fix them”
The i Paper

When I do my resistance work,
I do it to the hilt,
And now I can resist the gym
Without a shred of guilt.

Presidential Humor

by Bruce Bennett

“In Japan, Trump’s Pearl Harbor Joke Elicits Scorn and Dismay”
The New York Times

A joke about Pearl Harbor?
Hey, lighten up! Who cares?
The past is long since done with,
and passing time repairs

The things we cannot change now,
like outrage, death, and War.
So let’s all just indulge now
the Bully and the Bore.

Chuck Norris

by Scott Mahler

Chuck Norris
could never bore us.
Manly until his last breaths,
he found the only ass he couldn’t kick was Death’s.