by Julia Griffin

For Barbara

“Residents… near Boston subjected to attacks and intimidation by group of wild turkeys—
and especially Kevin.”
—The Guardian

O woe to the burghers of Boston!
The Terrorist Turkeys have come!
The trouble at first had been lost on
The town, whose reaction was “Yum!”

But no one had counted on Kevin,
The bird with the blade in his beak,
And now his whole harem is revvin’,
And honing their terror technique.

In vain are the kitty-cats yowling,
The puppy-dogs baring their fangs:
The Terrorist Turkeys are prowling,
In devilish, Kevinish gangs!

But though you call Kevin demonic,
One lesson, with luck, has been learned:
Thanksgiving, to some, is ironic,
And tables, though crammed, may be turned.

by Steven Kent

“26K for Joan Didion’s old books? Why are the rich obsessed with dead authors’ stuff?”
—The Guardian

Old glasses, lamps, blank notebooks,
Belonging-to-the-GOAT books,
And all such stuff quotidian
Were not the real Joan Didion.

by Alex Steelsmith

“Lyft drivers spread the Gospel with ride-hailing ministries…
[One driver] understood that his car could become an extension of the church…”
—AP

For some of us, having a driver we’re hiring
Attempt to convert us is not an offense;
It might seem a breath of fresh air, and inspiring.
One might feel transported in more than one sense.

But some of us might be insulted a smidgen,
And open the windows to let in the breeze
When drivers start airing out views on religion,
A topic on which one at times disagrees.

There’s one thing, at least, that we all can assert,
And it stands by itself (among other assertibles):
When drivers have riders they hope to convert,
We always prefer that they’re driving convertibles.

by Ruth S. Baker

“An Ancient Language, Once on the Brink, Is a British Isle’s Talk of the Town”
—The New York Times

Manx, some said a
Tongue en-graved,
Ranks instead a-
Mong the saved.

In these days of
Giving Thanks,
Spin the praise of
Living Manx!

by Stephen Gold

“Turtles and tortoises are not commonly considered among the chatterboxes of the animal
kingdom, but scientists have found that they have plenty to say if you listen…”
—The Times

The tortoise, somewhat slow to walk,
Is startlingly adept at talk,
Including crackles, croaks and clicks
Among his best linguistic tricks.

Throughout a life of long duration,
Effervescent conversation
Isn’t normally a feature
One attributes to this creature.

Clearly, though, it’s quite fallacious
Not to think that he’s loquacious.
Tortoise, dear, what tales you’ll tell,
Now that you’ve come out your shell.

by Alex Steelsmith

“Qatar banned the sale of beer at World Cup stadiums on Friday,
a sudden U-turn on the deal the conservative Muslim emirate made…”
—AP

Higgledy-swiggledy,
beer-loving soccer fans
finding their party a
bit of a dud

take in the tournament
non-alcoholically;
Budweiser’s profits are
nipped in the Bud.

by Jerome Betts

In their opening World Cup game, the first since
1958, the Welsh team led by Gareth Bale managed
to secure a 1-1 draw with the USA in the 81st minute.

A report on performance—G. Bale’s—
In a match west of Doha for males.
First half: not so hot.
Second: penalty spot . . .
And a last-moment screamer for Wales!

by Mike Mesterton-Gibbons

“Could Twitter collapse or go bankrupt?”
—The Guardian

The planet’s richest man has bought a firm
Worth scarce a fourth of what he had to pay.
It’s drowning Twitter’s boss in drang and sturm—
The new Chief Twit is feeling broke today!
An exodus of engineers who do
Not want to be extremely hardcore nerds
Depressed his advertising revenue
To where now Twitter’s strictly for the birds …
While Donald Trump’s restored account lies mute,
If all who used to tweet should make the choice
To move across to Mastodon and toot,
Then who would still use Twitter as their voice
Except the Twit? … Would he then tweet, to him,
Remorse for buying Twitter on a whim?

by Dan Campion

“Looking to leave Twitter? Here are the social networks seeing new users now”
—NPR

With what’s on offer—Mastodon
(Sad fate, like Montezuma’s),
Hive Social (bees are looking wan),
And Post (as in “posthumous”)—

Thank goodness I’m not looking to
Leave Twitter, now or ever,
That grapevine sour through and through.
When did I sign up? Never.

by Bruce Bennett

“Feeling sad or hopeless, sleepier than usual and lacking energy in recent weeks?
These mood changes could be a sign of seasonal affective disorder (SAD)…”
—The Washington Post

It’s true that I suffer from SAD,
And I fear I may even go mad.
But it’s not cold or snows
Or how the wind blows.
It’s the fact that the news is so bad!

by Phil Huffy

“A pair of worn-out Birkenstock sandals that Steve Jobs wore during the time he founded Apple
in his garage have been sold at auction for $218,750. Julien’s Auctions originally estimated
the brown suede and leather sandals would go for $60,000 to $80,000.”
—CBS News

That Apple fellow’s Birkenstocks
have brought a price which simply shocks.

One wonders how such footwear, used,
could fetch that much; I’m so confused.

Has anyone, to date, adored
the Florsheims worn by Henry Ford?

Did Patton’s boots have such a day?
Or Madame Curie’s loafers, eh?

Do students of fine art recall
the splattered sneaks of Marc Chagall?

It seems old shoes are best forgot.
The Ruby Slippers? Maybe not.

by Paul Lander

Met The Donald twice
I wish I could remember
How small his hands were.

by Julia Griffin

“Florida Man Makes Announcement”
—New York Post

I met Murdoch on the stump:
He’d demoted Donald Trump
To the status of a ghost
All across the New York Post.

Now poor Trumpty’s time has gone,
And DeFuture looks like Ron;
Doubting this is quite erroneous:
Ron’s DeSaint while Don’s DeMonious.

by Chris O’Carroll

Kari Lake
Wails, “The news is fake!
This claim that I lost the election
Calls for another insurrection!”

by Nora Jay

We’ve just seen off the Hazard,
The Horrible Hazard named Oz.
We knew him as a medical haz,
And that’s what his statecraft was.
If ever a meddlesome biz there is,
PA will inveigh: “That biz is his!
So let him graze his crudités because
We’re done with this snake-oil Santa Cloz:
Diddledy-diddledy-dee!
We’ve just seen off the Hazard,
The Horrible Hazard named Oz!”