—The Washington Post

by Bruce Bennett

It’s an honor to graduate Summa.
But don’t buy a cake that says Cum. A
computer will nix
your inscription. Publix,
it turns out, has a sick sense of huma.

by Dan Campion

Sez NFL, you’ll stand (or else!)
While national anthem’s sung,
Before you tighten up your belts
And get your noggins rung.
We’re owners and commission, see.
Our boys don’t make a fuss.
Free speech? Pure bunk, dead history.
You kneel, you kneel to us.

by Gail White

When polar bears have perished
for lack of habitat,
and rising seas have leveled
our coastal cities flat,

Rep. Dana Rohrabacher,
for one, will feel no guilt,
but with his last breath gurgle
“It’s due to rocks and silt!“

by Chris O’Carroll

Blessed is the babe who’s stacked
And for wolf whistles ne’er hath lacked.
Each boy who comments on her bod
Is fine by me and right with God.

Blessed is the battered wife
Who stays submissive all her life,
Not seeking a divorce to free
Her from her husband’s tyranny.

Blessed is the girl who’s raped
And whose attacker has escaped
Arrest because her pastor said,
“Don’t tell the cops. Forgive instead.”

But Heaven does not smile upon
Those pushy broads who want me gone.

by Dan Campion

“Vote for love.”
—The president

My hearties, what does Love mean now,
From stem to topmast, keel to bow?
We never have to say, “I’m sorry”!
Aye! Three cheers for the Grand Old Party:
Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!

Who must we thank, my shipmates dear?
Why you, Dear Captain! Never fear:
It’s only you we idolize.
You taught us, “Don’t Apologize”!
Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!

How true, although, courageous crew,
I taught what you already knew—
Oh, no, sir! We said “sorry,” once—
Avast! Confession marks a dunce!
Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!

by Mae Scanlan

Kim Jong Oon or Kim Jong Unn?
I propose another one:
Though it sounds a wee bit screwy,
Let’s just call him Kim Jong Phooey.

by Rusty Canyon

Royals: what we’ll never be!
We wake up late, don’t watch TV,
don’t give a damn for history.
No magic and no mystery

pervades the spaces we decree
the bastions of our liberty.
(It’s time for lunch? It won’t be free.)
The traffic stretches to the sea.

by Chris O’Carroll

Electric Kool-Aid acid tested prose—
A pyrotechnic style that zings, bursts, glows,
Word spasms, verbal throes and lava flows—
Dressed up the prim tsk-tsk outlook he chose
In cranky volumes written to expose
The trends he tagged as fast as they arose.

His kandy-kolored tangerine-flake prose
And dude-with-razzmatazz-aplenty clothes
Might sometimes tempt a reader to suppose
That his persona—showboat wiz who knows
More than most others how the story goes—
Is semi-right stuff, semi-desperate pose.

by Bruce Bennett

“Annabelle Lee ’18 Named Student Commencement Speaker”—Wells College memo to faculty

It was just a little while ago
In a college by a lake
When a maiden was picked whom you may know
For a speech, for Heaven’s sake.
I’m sure that speech will be mighty fine,
As such speeches always are,
But honestly, Mr. Poe and I
Think that’s pretty damn bizarre!

by Barbara Loots

No one frightens
more than Greitens.
Ethics? Sleazy.
Morals? Easy.
Ego: swollen.
Donors: stolen.
Law defier.
Smarmy liar.
Campaign cheater.
Girlfriend beater.
Blackmail, honey?
Don’t be funny!
Greitens’ buddies
slip him money.
Secret texts.
Lawyers vexed.
Oh, Missouri,
please, please hurry!
Just impeach him.
That’ll teach him!
(Maybe not–
the little snot
aims hell-bent
for President.)

by Bruce Bennett

Bright yellow heads, upstanding in the green,
dispensing cheer and gladdening the scene,
a part of me now wishes you were gone,
because it’s clearly time to mow the lawn!

by Brendan Beary

“Canadian zoo faces charges after taking bear out for ice cream at Dairy Queen“—The Guardian

Those zoo folks in Alberta,
They really are the worst—
To take their bear out on the town,
But go for ice cream first!

For Mr. Kodiak, et al.,
Had plans to get some chow
At that Moroccan place downtown;
He won’t be hungry now!

They’ve dined out many times before—
Tandoori, tacos, Thai—
But saved dessert for last; that’s been
The rule they’ve traveled by.

He’s got a massive appetite,
As one can understand,
And thus he’s apt to gorge upon
Whatever’s first at hand,

But now they’re at the Dairy Queen
Before they realize—Oops!
He’s asking for a sundae with
One hundred sixty scoops!

And now the whole town’s mad at you;
Sometimes you just can’t win.
Zookeepers, heed the lesson here,
And next time, order in.

by Robert Schechter

Colluded?
Who did?
I didn’t.
You did.

by Dan Campion

With Avenatti on the case
The Trump defenders hurried
To catch him in a paper chase
And keep the bodies buried.
He had more paper, though, than they,
More air time, quicker wits.
Can’t say, yet, who’ll get put away.
Here’s where the matter sits:
In medias, where Rudi raves
And Cohen slams cab doors
While Michael Avenatti paves
The way to two-to-fours.

by Mae Scanlan

Whickery whackery,
Columnist George F. Will
Said awful things about
VP Mike Pence.

Called him a toady,
And soooo oleaginous;
Unhesitatingly,
That makes good sense.