Three years and five months old to the day --
almost to the hour and minute.
She patted my arm, then hugged it.
She said, "I will take care of you".
We were sitting together, outside,
making Playdoh figures.
A beautiful summer day
made immeasurably more beautiful.

I know when she is with me
For then the verses write themselves.
Homer called her goddess and daughter of Zeus.
Is she a goddess? Is she female?
I do not know.
Protagoras said that it is impossible to know the nature of the gods given the brevity of human existence and the obscurity of the subject.
Is she a metaphor?
I do not know.
I know that when she is with me the verses write themselves.

Supreme Court Musings

"You are all smart, Your Honors, with talent from birth,
And experienced jurists to boot;
Yet, of all the Amendments, you have demolished the Fourth,
In opinions less than astute."

"A citizen who works at his job like he should,
Will stay under the police's radar;
Do your nine to five and care for your brood,
And don't go fooling around in your car."

"You grew old, Justice Stevens, under courthouse domes,
Hearing cases both mundane and lurid;
But in Kelo you ruled that we don't own our homes --
Please tell me, why did you do it?"

"You must understand that taxes come first;
They are what governments need to exist.
For us not to get our paychecks would be the worst --
Stop complaining or you'll go on a list."

"You were a conservative, Justice Thomas, with views that were strong,
And appointed by Bush Forty-one;
Yet you voted against guns and in favor of porn;
How could this have ever been done?"

"When I was in the Army they taught me
Which one was my rifle and which one was my 'gun';
I can be shocked but not shot by pornography --
Just work hard, pay your taxes and have 'fun'."

Hardened steel on tempered steel,
After ten years of the file wearing away the knife,
The knife wore down the file.

Countless sharpenings and countless meals made;
Could I have grown fond of them,
Two made things that never lived?

The new file bites well into the blade;
I must use gentler strokes
So as not to remove too much or notch the edge.

For me too blogging became a chore,
And at times even a bore,
Until I resolved to do it in rhyme,
And say, "It's for fun,
And not a job to be done",
Wink, smile, chuckle and have a good time.

Married for too long
He went looking for his youth
And for a new love.

The glass is empty.
We cannot fill it again
Even for our son.

The branch won't regrow
But the trees'll still shelter
The stripling below.

Girls’ Night Out

Two married women heard of a new wine bar
And wondered what they would find.
Asked one of the other, “Do you feel forlorn,
For leaving our husbands behind?”

Said the other, “Perish the thought.
My husband is hardly a guy I miss.
I left him, tonight, without a backward glance,
Let alone a goodbye kiss.

Now, marriage is all well and good,
And the children are wonderfully fine.
But when it comes to husbands,
After fifteen years, I very much prefer wine.”

There once was a young lady named Ansche
Who a french fry on the train did munch.
The policeman, who put her in cuffs,
Well deserved the public's rebuffs.
But is it unconstitutional,
Or even very unusual,
For a cop's brains to be out to lunch?

It's not as hard as you think,
And you don't need to drink,
To pen a poetical line.
Just give it some thought,
And also learn to emote,
And soon you'll be rhyming just fine.

I propose that we all take the time
To phrase all of our comments in rhyme.
Our words should be clean,
Neither uncouth nor obscene,
And appropriate to the political clime.