For years our radio’s been tuned
To 105.9.
The music, for the most part,
With our preference does align.
Jeff Spurgeon is our morning guy
And, with his soothing voice,
He’s just the host we’d choose ourselves
If we had had the choice.
From Know-It-All-New-Yorker
To his daily repartee,
We wouldn’t want to spend our mornings
Any other way.
When QXR announced that Jeff
Would take his final leave,
We must admit to feeling sad,
But know he will receive
The accolades that he deserves
From all his loyal fans,
With hopes that he finds joy
In all his many future plans.
We’ll miss you, Jeff; nobody will
Connect with us so well
For, except when you played opera,*
At your job you did excel!
*just never got into it…
Jeff Foxworthy
Entertains the booboisie,
“You might be a redneck if”
Your favorite ‘wich is banana and Jif!
A great pal was he
If there a cat heaven be
He now rests pain free
Jeff the three-legged worm
they weren’t his legs
but legs that he’d found
from old bits of twig
just scattered around
he once saw a centipede
who laughed and made fun
of a young and shy Jeff
stuck on his tum
but Jeff swam through soil
and the centipede saw
staring in wonder
amazement and awe
the twig legs put by now
but kept just in case
although Jeff seems ok
from the beam on his face
It had yet to enter Mister Jeff’s head
That I know him like the back of my hands:
Never would ask him bread let alone bed,
News of this sure to make it to distant lands…
The choice of a dog alive or lion dead,
A slow building with bricks or the fast with sands;
An offer of dying after being The Head
Or remaining alive just a helping hand,
A tranquil life in a lack-luster homestead,
Or a stormy one in a villa quite grand,
Smoldering with rage for Virgin one did wed…
Or shining with a whore who’d released her hand
It has just struck me I might, again, meet Jeff:
“God! Not in a hotel where Jeff is a chef:
Still I’d know his dish, if he changed Jeff to Clef,
A face surgery that says Clef, not Jeff.
Jeff eyes a life of High Grade.
He shall into wall paints wade:
Blocks for coats that won’t fade;
Jeff shall self stretch for High Grade,
Others, too, for the eyed grade:
Build a house bandits can’t raid,
Rooms like heaven on earth laid,
Cool canopy for a shade…
A vain Jeff for High Grade
Vows to each year sack a maid,
New week a new order made;
Wages much delayed, then paid…
For the necks he’ll slit’ with blade,
Cursed is Jeff’s quest for High Grade.
One thing about the sixties time
Was the music was just fine
Listen to it now
The Electric guitars were just wow
Look for the music played
By Jeff Beck part of the British Invasion Escapades
In the Yardbirds supercool
And the album with Rod Stewart rules
So the years roll out for everyone
And for Jeff Beck has been done
But do yourself a favour and listen to his blues
Jeff Beck as a guitarist still rules!
© Paul Warren Poetry
I'm your recall demon and alas, I am back
This Halloween be wary when you hit the sack
For that night while you're dreaming
I'll have you wake up screaming
But for five bowls of Snickers, I might not attack!
H/T "Factory Recall" by Jeff Kyser
Written 10/26/22
"Kaiser Jeff"
i grew up
(well...........
one hopefully
never grows up)
on hooked
on phonics
and being
dyslexic
to too
so it seems to me
that Kyser may
come from
German
descent
i don't know
but i know
he writes
decent
poetry
Someone gave Jeff Kyser a subscription
Writer’s Digest seized his imagination,
It was almost like an editor’s prescription
For developing Jeff’s fine poetry articulation
He quickly discovered the poetry pages
Latching on to new forms…not on P.S.,
Strange syllabications from some sages
And navigation of the complex, I guess.
Probably more than any poet I know
Jeff wrestles with rhymes and patterns,
Ranging from serious to silly, although,
He lays it on thick when rhythm matters
Certainly, one of the better poets here
He deserves this moment of recognition
So, to Jeff, I want to raise a stein of beer
And say “Hear! Hear!" to a poetry patrician!
Written October 15, 2022
He is rich, but willing to share
Sending two billion dollars
Yes that is billions, right there
To non-profits with no collars
Yes, no strings attached.
No formal vetting or restrictions
Jeff Bezos, the head of Amazon
Sent money their way with happy convictions
His theory was that since they worked with the homeless
They would help them with things they really did need
So his crew got together, did research, and asked a few questions
Then he sent a hundred million to two dozen for working day seed
He started out born to a teenage mom in 1964
His parents did not get along, and his dad left when he was four
Jeff was a brilliant guy, went to Princeton and worked on Wall Street
But at the age of thirty he started an on-line company so sweet
He is one of the richest men in the world today, has to be….
But does that mean he’s heartless? Absolutely not, as you can see.
He gives this money freely with no restrictions or big oversight.
I am sure he sleeps soundly when he turns out the light.
A plumber, a teacher...and a chef
Are all poets, and thier names are all geoff
Their astronomer, friends name
Had sound just the same
But he spelled it J.E.F.F
Limerick Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
1/3/2019
Help is legal,
Help is fruitful,
Help is a gift,
At times we lose grip,
Overwhelmed by decisions,
Matters that harbor different tasks,
But when that aid shows up,
We get to realise there is more,
More towards life,
More towards things,
More towards doing,
Help a Hold Ever Lent Persona.
Years ago I wrote a jingle for a real store.
They didn't know I did, but I did.
The soda pop shop
The soda pop shop
Be sure to stop
In the soda pop shop
If it ain't pop
We ain't got it
Jeff Mart!
Possessions and Jeff Sessions
Brain lost it possessions,
When they approved Jeff Sessions;
Then flipped my noodle.
Drew Up A Blank
Played with a full tank
And deck so who should I thank?
Mind drew up a blank.
Jim Horn
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