Light Verse and Nonsense Verse Viii

Wonderworks by Michael R. Burch History’s mysteries abound & astound, found (profound) the whole earth ’round, even if mostly underground. The Procrastinator’s Creed by Michael R. Burch It’s always, “Tomorrow, I’ll do it.” Work? I eschew it. I never collect money I’ve loaned and the rest of this poem’s been postponed. WHEN MAN IS GONE by Michael R. Burch When man is gone won’t the sun still rise? Will anyone care that he isn’t there? Will the porpoises lack purpose, the marigolds fold? Will the doves and the deer weep bitter tears? Or will life continue, glad to be off his menu? That Mella Fella by Michael R. Burch for John Mella, former editor of LIGHT There once was a fella named Mella, who, if you weren’t funny, would tell ya. But he was cool, clever, nice, gave some splendid advice, and if you were good, he would sell ya. One for the Thumb! by Michael R. Burch Counting rings, the counters come, marching to the same sad drum: “Your GOAT has two, but ours has four!” “Our GOAT has six, and six is more!” “One for the thumb! Our GOAT’s the best!” But Robert Horry’s not impressed. Jim Loscutoff is trying on the mantle of the GOAT, anon. Frank Ramsey laughs himself to tears: since he won seven in just nine years. Tom Heinsohn, K.C. Jones, Satch Sanders and Hondo all have eight, ring ganders. Sam Jones has rings to fill both hands (that’s ten for all math-challenged fans), won in twelve years, as truth demands. Meanwhile, the only GOAT we know, Bill Russell, has one ... for the toe! Mating Calls, or, Purdy Please! by Michael R. Burch 1. Nine-thirty? Feeling flirty (and, indeed, a trifle dirty), I decided to ring prudish Eleanor Purdy ... When I rang her to bang her, it seems my words stang her! She hung up the phone, so I banged off, alone. 2 Still dreaming to hold something skirty, I once again rang our reclusive Miss Purdy. She sounded unhappy, called me “daffy” and “sappy,” and that was before the gal heard me! 3. It was early A.M., ’bout two-thirty, when I enquired again with the regal Miss Purdy. With a voice full of hate, she thundered, “It’s LATE!” Was I, perhaps, over-wordy? 4. At 3:42, I was feeling blue, and so I dialed up Miss You-Know-Who, thinking to bed her and quite possibly wed her, but she summoned the cops; now my bail is due! 5. It was probably close to four-thirty the last time I called the miserly Purdy. Although I’m her boarder, the restraining order freezes all assets of that virginity hoarder!