|
A Ruddy Shelduck A ruddy shelduck is, in Buddhist lands, Revered. In Italy, this duck is deemed Untouchable. In Donald Junior's hands, Ducks have to be shot dead to be esteemed. Don wasn't sure what bird he had shot at, Yet bragged it was incredible to shoot So rare a waterfowl, implying that He'd bagged it, on Venetian game-pursuit Estate lands ... Then he learned the duck implies Legalities: to shoot it was a crime ... "Do you have proof I bagged it? Other guys, Uploading buckshot at the selfsame time, Confound the issue!" Don says now. "Though we Know someone shot it, who can prove it's me?" (First published on 17th March, 2025 in Oddball Magazine. Story here) |
Mouse To Mammoth? Mutations' permutations are the stuff Of evolution: if effects in mice Upscale to pachydermal size enough, Siberia becomes a paradise Enjoyed by mammoths, prophesize the guys That grew a golden fleece of woolly hair On quite colossal but non-mammoth-size Mouse guinea pigs. The scientists declare A hope: a mammoth calf is born in three More years of tinkering, if genes for fur Manipulate the hairless pedigree Of elephants ... From mouse to mammoth? Were They mammoth brains or woolly thinkers?—they Have only mice with woolly DNA! (First published on 31st March, 2025 in Oddball Magazine. Story here) |
Oil On The Canvas O wad some Pow'r the giftie gie the C- In-C to see himself as others do: Less presidential than Barack, Joe B Or Dubya, and all predecessors too. No portrait can distort him if it paints The truly worst: oil on the canvas did Him justice, and his clamorous complaints Extol the artist capturing his id (Commissioned for the space his idol hung Awhile in). But her skill at portraits can Not match the gloss of portraitists among Vlad Putin's circle, who made MAGA Man Appear a thing of beauty ... O, wad he See what we see, resign, and set us free! (First published in Light on 31st March, 2025 as one of the Poems of the Week. Story here) |
|
No Worries If Not No less than fourteen times a day, a slew Of Brits (near half of us) use weasel words, Which is to say, we're mealy-mouthed—our view Of confrontation is: that's for the birds. Research may track our cowardice, though it Reveals no reason for our British way: Is mealy-mouthedness rife because a Brit Eats numerous digestives every day? "Sounds fun, I'll let you know" for "Sounds a bore, I won't be there" or "Maybe it's just me" For "You're the prob" and "No great hurry" for "Now urgent" bury what we disagree On sans unpleasantness ... You don't admit That's great? ... No worries if not fine with it! (First published in the Summer 2025 issue of WestWard Quarterly. Story here) |
Ava Sender Logan As Ava Sender Logan raced downhill Vertiginously following a cheese— A wheel of Double Gloucester—to her skill Set for the future, she was adding these: Effective leadership—by being first Negotiator of a precipice; Disruptive creativity, rehearsed Extensively by using hit-or-miss Race strategies; and digitally based Life competency, proven in the throes Of blindly executing breakneck-paced Gymnastics, keeping all her digits—toes And fingers—whole, to win the prize with ease ... No doubt in time she'll be her own big cheese! (First published on 7th July, 2025 in Oddball Magazine. Story here) |
The Pinch Of Salt The Salt Path was restorative for Winn. Her royalties, it is alleged, repaid Embezzled funds. Yet nature's medicine (Perambulations Moth and Raynor made In Cornwall on its cliffs), according to New claims, were too restorative to be Considered true: in many medics' view, He's been too well too long for CBD. Observer scoops don't often tell a lie. Fresh readings bring up doubts you can't ignore So easily, yet millions passed them by ... At picnics on the beach, with Salt Path for Light reading, why did no one spot a fault? They probably forgot their pinch of salt! (First published in Light on 14th July, 2025 as one of the Poems of the Week. Story here) |