“A would-be burglar in Rome… became distracted after picking up a book about Homer’s Iliad on a bedside table. … News of the failed burglary attracted the attention of the book’s author, who told local media he wanted to send the man a copy so he could ‘finish’ his read. … Mr Nucci [the author] said his personal favourite deity was
Hermes, the god of thieves.” —BBC News
When a burglar’s duly mindful of his calling
(Of his calling),
When a robber has some pride in his employ
(His employ),
He—or she—should shun all writing that’s enthralling
(That’s enthralling),
Like anything about the War in Troy
(War in Troy).
If “delinquent”’s not to be a mere misnomer
(Mere misnomer),
If “thief” means more than “amateur in crime,”
(-Teur in crime),
Then a sit-down in a stranger’s house with Homer
(House with Homer)
Is not a thing for which there’s any time.
O!
If you had to break a window to get in
(To get in),
That’s not the place to learn if Greece will win
(Greece will win).
When an author’s done with Paris and with Helen
(And with Helen),
When a writer needs a break from mighty Zeus
(Mighty Zeus),
He (or she) may feel some fondness for a felon
(For a felon),
A tendency for which there’s no excuse
(No excuse).
But writers get so little chance to wallow
(Chance to wallow)
In fanship that required no teacher’s prod
(Teacher’s prod),
And though they enjoy the blessings of Apollo
(Of Apollo)
The thieves have got great Hermes as their god.
O!
Though a term of immuration should be had
(Should be had),
Let’s hope the lock-up stocks The Iliad
(Iliad).
“Britain’s theme parks are more fun in the rain, claims boss” —The Telegraph
If watching people slip on greasy walkways
And break a leg or fall beneath a car
Or lose an eye to metal-tipped umbrellas
Convulses you with mirth, I guess they are.
“[Many bat] biologists… have the zeal of converts, who at some point turned from other mammals to find a wonderland of scientific mysteries, like bats’ impossibly acrobatic flight… [Bats are] the only mammals that fly.” —National Geographic
Flittering, fluttering
agile mammalians
somehow, incredibly,
dance in the sky.
Scientists studying
microchiroptera
gaze in amazement when
acro-bats fly.
“US schools employ gun-sniffing dogs to curb violence—and bring students joy … [D]ogs become ‘popular’ safety measure that also has emotional benefits” —The Guardian
“Popular,” in quotation marks? Perhaps
For fear of finding something simply good
In this—allowing standards to collapse
Till we forget that actually we could
Have something still more popular: safe schools;
But, since we won’t, let’s welcome in the dogs,
Trained and assigned as violence-curbing tools,
Displayed, snouts lifted, in brochures and blogs,
Ready to sniff out guns, and more: the smell
Of panic, of confusion. Children crowd
Around, surprised by eyes of caramel,
Long ears for things that can’t be voiced aloud,
Backs to be stroked, the friendliest of barks:
Bringers of joy (not in quotation marks).
“Apartment complex bills woman who died $15,000 for breaking her lease” —Local 12 News
That little amount that you’ve managed to save?
It’s true that you can’t take it into the grave,
But not for the sake of the proverb’s intent—
It’s landlords demanding full payment of rent.
The hot water’s icy, repairs are postponed.
The maintenance manager always looks stoned.
But people must pay on apartments they’ve leased,
No matter if hospitalized or deceased.
So read the fine print of all contracts you sign—
Your death might incur an additional fine.
And landlords are willing to pillage and plunder
Remains of their tenants who’ve moved six feet under.
“In a sign that Spain is going off dating apps, men and women of all ages are said to be searching for partners in the supermarket chain Mercadona.” —The Times
In downtown Garcia, José and Maria
Decided to shop for a mate.
They bumped in the aisle.
He asked, with a smile,
“Would you like to go on a date?”
“¡Ay no!” gasped Maria. “The very idea
Consumes me with feelings of dread.
One glance at your trolley
Has shown me the folly
Of risking a night in your bed.
I just want a man with a glorious tan,
Who’s a star of the pool and the gym.
But I see what you’ve bought,
And I can’t help the thought
That whoever he is, you’re not him.
Cigarros and booze aren’t the best things to choose,
When you’re hoping like hell to impress.
Or churros, or pies,
Or those jumbo-sized fries.
Let’s be honest, José, you’re a mess!”
And so, poor José had to go on his way,
Still an hombre pursuing his dream.
On the shelf, sad to say,
But consoled every day
With a galón of chocolate ice cream.
• “Cruise passengers who spent up to £680,000 on three-year trip stranded in Belfast for three months: The ship, ‘Odyssey’,
had planned to depart for the three-year voyage on 30 May” —The Independent, August 2024 • “Moon landing goes sideways: Odysseus mission will be cut short after craft tipped over” —USA Today, February 2024 • “Active recalls affecting the Honda Odyssey: 67” —Cars.com, March 2024
Will treks you bless
be hiccup-free,
or choke? I’d guess,
from past debris,
their destiny.
(Asphyxia’s.)
But don’t mind me,
Odysseus.
It’s S.O.S.—
not V.I.P.—
that should impress
in your C.V.
Yet your I.D.
can tizzy us
with travel glee,
Odysseus.
You journeyed, yes,
from A to B,
but hurry-less
and haltingly.
I’m Odyssey-
sus-pish-y-ous.
But few agree,
Odysseus:
I found a bear beside the road,
It was already dead.
I felt the need to drive it home.
Ditto the severed head
Of a cetacean I picked up
And strapped atop my car.
In context, my embracing such
A creature’s not bizarre.
“A 3,500-year-old jar has been accidentally smashed into pieces by a four-year-old boy during a trip to a museum in Israel. … The boy’s father, Alex, said his son ‘pulled the jar slightly” because he was ‘curious about what was inside’, causing it to fall. … The Hecht Museum said the child has been invited back to the exhibition with his family for an organised tour…” —BBC
He tipped the jar, and out the whole gang flew:
War, Sickness, Famine, Rage, Confusion too,
Terror, Fatigue, Old Hatred, Wasted Breath,
Hypocrisy, Indifference, and Death:
Blood-riddles, far beyond a toddler’s scope;
But something else he found there: Hope. We hope.
“Alain Delon’s family refuse to put down pet dog the actor wanted to be buried with” —CNN
Alain Delon so loved his dog Loubo that, when he died,
he wished to have him euthanized and buried by his side.
“I love him like a child,” he said. “No way!” his kids replied.
“Scientists propose warming up Mars by using heat-trapping ‘glitter’” —Reuters
Spread glitter through the atmosphere to warm up planet Mars—
Just fill it with confetti and those sticky golden stars.
And soon enough, the ice will melt and life will find success,
While astronauts with children suffer post-traumatic stress.
“Man knocked out by whale tail whack while in small boat off Gold Coast Queensland police say the man remained in his tinny after the whale hit him in waters near Coolangatta …
[He] didn’t know the whale was there until it appeared in front of him.” —The Guardian
Man knocked out by whale tail whack,
Sitting in his tinny:
Didn’t see the whale, till smack!
(It was not a mini.)
Whale surprised by man head sound.
“Here in Coolangatta,”
Whale opined, “I think I’ve found
Prompts for a toccata.”
Man now conscious, doing fine,
Saved by paramedics
Though with pain traversing spine
And some nasty hedics.
Whale below provides its tail
Rest and relaxation;
Meantime pectorals regale
Friends with syncopation.
