The New Yorker
The New Yorker is having a birthday –
It’s made it to one hundred years.
With each story, cartoon, poem or essay,
It’s jump-started many careers.
Despite what it’s called, you can buy it
At newsstands or else go on line
And subscribe – since my brother did try it,
He gets his in the mail before mine!
Colorado is where he is living;
We both read it and then we discuss
All the articles that it keeps giving
To curious people like us.
I have some complaints – sometimes writing
Prattles on many pages too long
And most poems, instead of delighting,
Make no sense and I don’t think I’m wrong.
Yet I’m happy for every arrival,
With a crossword to tackle, as well,
And I hope its continued survival
Will outlast those whom truth would dispel.
Copyright © Ilene Bauer | Year Posted 2025
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