My poems are easy to understand, usually rhyme, and have some rhythm, so you may not like them. I can usually identify good poetry by the fact that I don’t understand them in the first read. The better they are the more reads it takes, at least for me. Here are a few of mine on varying subjects. My age permits me to compose a poem about a common ailment in older males. Nothing profound here.
Tinkle Tinkle Little Bladder
Tinkle tinkle little bladder
how I wonder what’s the matter.
Tests show PSA is high,
I wonder why it’s high, oh my!
My doctor tells me not to worry
about not peeing in a hurry.
And waking up three times at night?
I’d rather pee when it’s light.
Should I worry about my prostate
and the problems it might create?
If it decides some more to grow,
should I take saw palmetto?
In my youth this gland worked well.
On how I used it, I won’t dwell.
But now that I am old and gray,
I wish it would just…go away.
Don’t like that one? Here’s another giving good advice to all.
Bathing in the Sun
Bathing in the sun, they say, is really good for you.
It’s something, they say, you should make a point to do.
Ultraviolet light, they say, makes your vitamin D,
and vitamin D is needed if healthy you would be.
The test of a great vacation, they say, is baking in the sun.
So you can return home brown, make sure both sides get done.
What would they say or think if you came home white?
You’ve wasted your vacation; you’re really not too bright.
So spread your blanket on the beach or out beside the pool,
even though it’s sizzling hot, being brown sure looks cool.
Don’t spoil your vacation by thinking about damage done
to your skin and to your eyes from the blazing sun.
Lather on the lotion and wear those real cool shades,
drink some bottled water or some lemonade.
Never mind that shades and lotion are not good enough
to screen all the rays that cause old skin and cancer stuff.
Why not tan your retina like your dermis.
Crank up the rays just like you would a furnace.
Your vacation was expensive but was well worth the cost.
Its effects will be permanent even when the tan is lost.
Melanoma and cataracts will remind you of vacation days.
Wrinkled and brown skin are worth the price you paid.
While you deal with consequences of sunny vacations
why not plan your next one now, make your reservations.
Book the doctor’s office and hospital clinic,
because you would not believe the warnings of a cynic.
Sorry, I’ll try again. Here is one more in step with my blogs.
A Little Home for God
A little home for God exists inside of you and me.
It’s deep inside our brains, in a place we cannot see.
Somewhere along neural tracts and in clumps of cells
The Lord, our God, resides comfortably and well.
He shares his home with other gods of other times and creeds
who, just like him, all claim to fill important needs.
They are there when we call as if by special magic,
but when we let them help us, it often turns out tragic.
Sometimes they take control of us just for their own ends
like a lethal virus when its life upon us depends.
Did nature put these cells inside of us for reason,
to help us through hard times and the deadly season?
For some of us it must have helped in the past as in the present,
that’s why now we need the comfort of the cross, the star, the crescent.
This godly home, some do think, is in our temporal lobe
or maybe our limbic system is the address of its abode.
It really makes no difference to some of us you see,
because in our brains and intellect, there is… no vacancy.
Last one I promise. If you like science you might go for this one.
Drosophila – Ode to a Fruit Fly
Drosophila Melagaster, you sexy little fly.
Your universe is in a bottle; you never saw the sky.
You never had the chance to fly, free as God made you.
Your firmament was made of glass, all you ever knew.
A slice of apple or an orange, would have been your wish.
A ripe banana is your heaven in a little dish.
Instead you existed under glass just for me to see,
to reproduce and be bred by a human deity.
I watched you copulate, lay eggs to my delight;
I watched as your larva pupated in plain sight;
I watched your offspring hatch and spread their tiny wings;
I etherized your whole brood and examined the little things.
With a little brush, I selected a few mutations,
and then bred them once again to make some new creations.
Playing God sure felt good for some unholy reason.
Creating little mutants was supernatural treason.
What I did in college lab with deliberate resolution
happens all the time in nature, its called evolution.
But there are those of little wit that still cannot conceive
that what we did together should really be believed.
I finished my genetics course and passed the final tests.
I never could have done it without my fruit fly pests.
Playing God is bad enough; some think it a holy crime.
But, it was fun proving evolution by my design.
They weren’t so bad were they? I hope not. Every so often I will add a few more.