A Giggle Or Three
The Slug
The slug is one of God’s creatures.
In his home in the forest land
He keeps the ground cleared with his crunching.
That’s a good thing and I understand.
But why does he come to my garden
To chew on my favorite plants?
The slug can be worse than a beetle or bug
Or even meandering ants.
Now surely I’m smarter than he is,
That small mound of jelly and slop.
But I use all my wiles and my will and my ways,
And still can’t get him to stop.
When he chews on my iris or primrose
That I have so carefully reared,
I attack with an armload of weapons.
Now I am the one to be feared.
His persistence drives me to murder.
I cut him in two with a hoe.
I drown him with beer, pour salt on his rear.
Before a new half he can grow.
He multiplies faster than bunnies.,
And all I can do now is cry.
This slug so tenacious, ferocious, rapacious
Is much more resourceful than I..
Senior Moment
I just now had a little thought,
that very swiftly sped away.
They have named them senior moments.
They come more often every day.
I’m stumbling and I’m stammering,
wondering what is going wrong.
Guess my brain is overloaded.
It has been working overlong.
I try to introduce a friend.
I simply can’t recall her name.
When I think of it at midnight
It’s way too late and not the same.
My friend doesn’t seem to notice,
She acts as if all is just fine.
Unbothered I forgot her name,
She’s trying to remember mine.
The Illiterate Goose
In the field across from me,
a sign as plain as it can be.
“Oats planted for the birds”, I read.
The flying geese pay it no heed,
and spying a stand of winter wheat
they settle on that crop to eat.
It’s testament to the absurd
a farmer puts up a sign for birds.
lWon Honorable Mention .
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