There once was a man with waders
Who thought he might find him some gators
down at his creek,
where the trash did seep
left often by unkind invaders.
On October 13th, a Saturday,
folks like you will come to play
from nine until noon
and not a moment too soon
to pick up trash and put it far away.
So come to First Creek and discover
“treasures” left by some unkind others:
shopping carts and flat tires,
pay phones, couches, and wires
and stuff that the creek tries to smother.
Bring tools and gloves for your hands;
pick up trash for as long as you can.
Once done, we will eat
Harby’s Pizza and Three Rivers’ treats
and be glad we helped the creek and the land.
A man trying on waders: Ask not by whom the trash will be picked up. The trash will be picked up by you.
Filed under Freeform Friday, Photo by author, poetry by author
Dear Congress,
I want my hour back.
The one you stole from me
To take up all the slack
Of saving energy.
A supercilious stance
Of the previous administration
Is giving me morning headaches
And hours of constipation.
Spring has not yet sprung
But an “extra” hour blooms
We’re supposed to use less fossil fuels
But you were a fool to assume.
You now fight over light bulbs
Some invoking “my right to chose.”
Yet, when robbing me of one hour,
You said I had nothing to lose.
There is no proof this hour
Is saving the country power.
I get up in the night, turn on several lights
As I make my way to the shower.
I use more electricity
As I start each day of work
All because you fell asleep
And forgot to think. What jerks.
You pander to the lobbyist
And engage in high mediocrity.
All the time wasting hours
On political pomposity.
By making daylight longer.
As I’m driving more for less
On gas I’ve forced to squander
While you show little or no regrets.
I’m losing sleep because I cannot be
Awake while the sun still shines
But with a jerk, the hour to start work
Finds me ever more behind.
I want my hour back.
The one you stole from me
And do not counterattack
With your light bulb skullduggery.
Even though my eyes are bleary
And my outlook a bit less cheery
I can still see quite clearly
And let you know sincerely:
I want my hour back.
The one you stole from me
To take up all the slack
Of saving energy.
The heist of some lifetime
Filed under Cartoon, heist, humor, poem, poetry, political humor, politicians, satire, story poem, theater of the absurd
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