Short Bone(A) Poems

We observe
We gasp in anticipation
What is this, a chicken bone, a Ferrari, a bee? Why do they even belong here?
Revelation flashes by like a cottage cheese comment
YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS! I do learn much Karma Kreulu....

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Everyone knows the limerick king, Jack,
penning funnies, spreading laughter galore.
His wit will give your funny bone a smack,
a legend who'll go down in 'soup' folklore.

Not just for limericks had he a knack,
for his charm one could not help but adore;
so many he touched and when he looks back,
bid he know he remains a cherished mentor.





A collaboration with Silent One 
For Jack Ellison, upon his retirement from the Soup...

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A dog and his bone was on the roam,
Where can I find this bone a home?
Will I bury it next to the tree?
No, too easy for others to see.

What about next to the garden shed?
Maybe in the middle of the garden bed,
Behind the sty where the pigs all are,
What about somewhere right away far.

I think I know what I will do,
I'll just sit down and have a chew,
Tomorrow will be another new day,
I'll find a spot then for the bone to stay....

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Spicy smell metamorphoses
in the garbage.
The same chunk that stimulates 
the taste buds
induces nausea. This is a bin
of dual relief.  
As the darkness falls on the bare
reality, an arm 
stretches through the hole
that nobody tries 
to caulk. The stray man picks up 
a gnawed chicken 
leg bone, a scrape of fried mackerel,
some steamed rice 
mixed with reddish yellow curry...
He recycles the 
junk. Hunger can burn away
any disgust.

First appeared in The Literary Hatchet...

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