by Alex Steelsmith
“Woman accused of stealing casket with body inside from Las Vegas funeral home…
[and] dumping the remains in the process… [T]he body in the casket ended up lying
in landscaping in front of the business.”
—KLAS
Plundery blundery,
caskets in funeral homes
shouldn’t be stolen, as
everyone knows.
Sometimes, according to
criminological
experts, the body of
evidence shows.
by Viv Priestley
“Trump… said that he had seen stories on TV about pets being eaten…”
—The Independent
“There’s a family named Simpson whose kid’s stayed a baby
For 36 years—such a terrible thing!
And a sponge that wears pants! And a frog that can sing!
So I promise you, folks—there’s no if, there’s no maybe—
I’ll end these atrocities once I’m elected:
No clothes will be wasted on sea life again!
Voice lessons will be just for human-type men!
And of course I’ll keep going until we’ve ejected
Those dangerous people—my god, they appall!—
Who have kept their poor daughter so horribly small.”
by Steven Urquhart Bell
“Claim unisex police trousers cause squashed testicles”
—BBC
A cop is trained to handle situations
With fortitude and zeal and not to grouse,
But how d’you question folk who won’t stop laughing
Because you sound like Mickey bloody Mouse?
by Julia Griffin
“New Hampshire governor helps choking competitor at lobster roll eating contest:
Chris Sununu performs Heimlich maneuver on Christian Moreno, who recovered
and went on to eat nine rolls”
—The Guardian
When Chris saved Chris, all lauded his compassionate acuity,
But some pedantic types observed the headline’s ambiguity.
You think (they said) the test was eating lobster rolls? Worth heeding;
Let’s put that first, and yet it’s only one potential reading.
Perhaps we’ve been distracted by the thought of pot or oven or
Eating at all, and actually the contest was for governor.
A third suggestion: we have misinterpreted the roll.
It was, in fact, plain bread, which lobsters had to swallow whole.
Fourth: could we run these two together? Governor Helps Rival—
A lobster, who was gorging past all prospects of survival.
There’s one more possibility we can’t avoid invoking:
The prize was not for eating, nor for governing, but choking …
Well (they concluded). Chris S, you helped someone/something, Thank you!
And may New Hampshire never seek a lobster to out-rank you.
by Steven Kent
“Sixty is the new golden age: Meet the stellar generation hitting this milestone”
—The Guardian
Some writer claims I’m in my prime,
Which I deem damn insensible.
He swears I’ve hit life’s perfect time–
I say that’s indefensible.
My knees now hurt, both hips, my back;
To women I’m invisible.
My daily mood is mostly black
And rarely am I risible.
My sagging abs reveal I’m old;
Can’t find a way to flatten ’em.
If sixty is the age of gold,
Don’t let me live to platinum.
by Steven Urquhart Bell
“Delicious or revolting? The strange taste of chocolate art”
—BBC
My poems haven’t ever made me money,
Or ever won a medal or a cup,
But maybe if I wrote in chocolate icing
The world of modern art would lap them up.
by Jerome Betts
“Over half of those surveyed had no idea that a John Dory was a spiny fish;
12% mistakenly thought ‘he’ was a famous poet, according to the Marine
Stewardship Council poll.”
—Zoe Wood in The Guardian
A strange neglect dogs poor John D.
Once star of poets by the sea,
Who won prize after major prize
With touching thoughts on how Time flies.
Unlike another J.D. (Donne)
Whose fame it seems will run and run
Few know his name or quote his lines
While some fixate on fins and spines.
So, let us now forget the Dean,
Whose memory still is glowing green,
Till Dory, sunk without a trace,
Ascends to take his rightful place.
by Iris Herriot
“US cave system’s bats and insects face existential threat: discarded Cheetos”
—The Guardian
Our cave-bound bats and insects
Are paying for our mess.
What makes them, and their kin sects,
Decline and deliquesce?
Dropped sodas, dumped Doritos!
But more appalling yet
These undisposed-of Cheetos—
An Existential Threat.
There’s trash around Montmartre
(I’m sure that that is true),
Enough to sadden Sartre,
Or at the least Camus;
No doubt the French mosquitoes
Resent each dropped baguette;
But nothing equals Cheetos
For Existential Threat.
by Michael Calvert
(With apologies to Robbie Burns)
“Erotic asphyxiation has become mainstream among under-35s.”
—The Guardian
My luve hae gat a reid, reid face
And on her face I dote,
And maistly ivery time I place
My fingers roond her throat.
And likeweys, I for aye can tell
Her luve for me is true;
I ken it whan my een do swall
And whan my face turns blue.
I tell ye true, my bonnie miss,
Ye ne’er do seem so fair,
Or fill my saul w’ such a bliss
Than whan ye gasp for air.
Until the seas gang dry, my dear,
I’ll luve ye, unto deith.
Until we baith are on oor bier
Completely oot of breith.
by Steven Urquhart Bell
“Cornwall libraries offer blood pressure monitors”
—BBC
Although I have an exercise regime,
At my age I would welcome such a scheme
To check my vital signs are A-okay,
Before I borrow Fifty Shades of Grey.
by Julia Griffin
“Harry Potter fans boo as King’s Cross ends ‘back to Hogwarts’ tradition
Fans at London station left disappointed after fictional train’s departure not announced
on public address system”
—The Guardian
There’s bitterness this morning at King’s Cross.
A broomstick-toting crowd begins to boo,
Disgusted by this unexpected loss:
The Hogwarts train is canceled! Yes, it’s true:
It’s gone. What’s public transport coming to?
Before you know, some jobsworth will have banned
The ice cream floats en route to Candy Land.
No easy route to Gotham City now.
You’ll have to get to Bedrock on your feet.
Crossing the Looking Glass? Please tell me how.
Some Moriarty’s certain to delete
All railway lines that run to Baker Street;
Next up, the sieve that bore the Jumblies, and
The ice cream floats en route to Candy Land.
They’ve stopped the bus to Hundred Acre Wood.
They’ve taken off the shuttle to Toad Hall.
You can’t reach Avonlea as once you could,
And nothing runs to Middle Earth at all.
We’ll go no more to Asterix’s Gaul,
But still in dreams we’ll see them drift, unmanned:
The ice cream floats en route to Candy Land.
by Kaitlyn Spees
“California lawmakers want to… [require] technology in your car to warn you when you’re speeding.
Safety advocates say speed assistance technology can reduce traffic deaths, but critics say California
is moving too fast.”
—NPR
Should cars inform us when we speed?
Say Californians: “Yes!”
(As long as cars don’t start to snitch
When we don’t stop, I guess.)
by Dan Campion
“Engineers Gave a Mushroom a Robot Body And Let It Run Wild”
—Science Alert
I clicked. I saw. I wondered, Why
Not make a robot pizza pie
Whose sausage flew it, like a drone
That homed in on my door by phone,
To feed my ever-so-smart house
With crumbs to treat the robot mouse.
by Bruce Bennett
Kudos to Kamala and Tim.
I’ll vote for her. I’ll vote for him.
I’m eager that they do not fail.
But six asks in this morning’s mail?
I’ve given and I’ll give again.
I can’t say, though, exactly when,
but this much I can say for sure:
before then there’ll be dozens more!
by Mike Mesterton-Gibbons
“Russian scientists have been ordered to hand over details of their latest research into anti-ageing
remedies in a suspected bid to keep alive Vladimir Putin and his circle of Kremlin cronies.
The edict came from the ‘biggest boss’…”
—Daily Mail
The biggest boss’s bio-lab brigade
Has orders for an anti-aging pill,
Ensuring his demise can be delayed
By decades. Then the tsar can still fulfill
Imperial designs. And all his gray,
Gerontocratic Kremlin cronies can
Go giddy at the thought they may, some day,
Extend their lives to twice the current span …
Still, medical ambitions cost a bomb.
The Kremlin hawks will know, this question must
Be asked: where is the money coming from?—
One pill for him could make his war go bust …
Some day we’ll say he did not preen in vain,
Should vanity bring peacetime to Ukraine!