Because even a long summer day
Isn’t long enough to harvest hay.
We modern folk must lose
A lovely hour to snooze
Or botch our Sunday reveillé.

Because plates are little and shallow
A buffet should provide a fellow
A bus tub instead,
One made out of bread,
With compartments for gravy and yellow.

Life’s a very busy thing
And rushes by so fast,
And since inertia rules this world
It cannot help but last.  

Transactions plonk the daylight hours,
And revels blot the dark.
There is a grimy window near
That looks on a glum park.

A widow from Wimberly whistles
And fills all her pillows with thistles.  
So nice on the cheek,
You’ll sleep for a week.  
When dozing on brambles and bristles.

A diuretic’s the best juice
To glug before those long commutes.  
If coffee makes you ***
That is a paltry fee
For the elation it’s produced.

Two neighbors from Naseby compete
Whenever they pour some wet concrete
Whose sidewalk will dry
First, or is it a tie?  
Luxuriant lawns are also a feat.

The squishiest mattress is a cloud,
So soft it shouldn’t be allowed.  
To stiffen the vapor
They take our their scraper
To shave off of sleet’s brittle shroud.

When the nimble aphids are leaping
And squat caterpillars are creeping
They’re fleeing on before
The mower’s starting roar,
Like field-mice at the autumn reaping.

What tempted me to join the queue?
It must be some great treat.  
Only delight could keep these souls
Shuffling on blistered feet.  
I turned a corner hours ago,
Quite perpendicular,
But as I count the corners off
I’ve tallied five so far.  
The walls are clean, but they’re not bright,
Scrubbed to sobriety.
I passed a blotch I’d seen before,
But it might lie to me.  
This line may loop into a square,
And no one’s first or last,
And all who’ve shuffled patiently
Are doomed to lose the past.
Did I ascend to this closed floor
By staircase or by lift?  
Outside must lie some wider world,
Denied a precious gift.    
The walls are bare of openings,
But we need only one.  
Quiet can’t be the sole reward
For everything we’ve done.

This heirloom china wants to slip
Out of my tremulous grip.  
But plastic’s less heavy,
And nicely holds gravy.  
It bounces if ever you trip.

Would pumpkins smile so very wide
If they knew on a porch outside
An exposed gourd soon rots
Or splatters parking spots?  
Their grins come from some defiant pride.

Because a losing player tosses
Monopoly boards and their houses
Sharp corners await
Mom in her bare feet.
The agony one board-game causes!

The ocean waves are murmuring,
And some who walk the shore
May pause to hear some wisdom there,
And linger more and more.  

The seas are older than the old,
And jealous of regret.
Their murmurs wash out memory,
And make a soul forget.

The sheets and blankets are too big
For such a little bed.  
They drape their fringes on the floor,
And dribble dreams with red.

The brain can’t sluice the nightmares out
Though a grate stopped with cloth.  
Thick curtains collect spiderwebs
And flutterings of moths.

I always wanted to procrastinate,
But put if off and now it’s too late.
So if you want to laze
Don’t put up with delays.  
Today’s the day to vegetate.

Because winter days aren’t short enough
To bruise our moods, already rough,
We make them shorter still
And by our own free will.
So if you’re glum and grouchy, tough!

Hasbro makes a Monopoly game
Durable because sometimes we blame
The board for our troubles.  
We never roll doubles!
So flip the whole board.  This is lame!

All gargoyles scowl. What is the matter?
These faces will not make things better.  
But gargoyles always scowl
Because their haunches howl,
And slipping off their ledge will shatter.

Impatient, a lion will roar
And kitty’s meowing at the door,
Because paws are fumbling;
At doorknobs it’s grumbling.
Once launching a robin can soar.

The summer brings on buzzing flies.  
Those whirrings around ears and eyes
Strum lullabies that make
A sleeper **** awake
And aggravate miserable Julies.

In Scotland painters favor plaid
Though tartans are likely just a fad.  
When dabbing on the wall
The hand can’t slant at all.  
Glaswegians think diagonals bad.

A huckster from Huxby displayed
His circus of fleas to any who paid.
A bug on a trapeze
Can soar with such ease
And for wages takes marmalade.

Because ankles are bound to get hot
In underwear collars why not
Raise up the stall door,
To ventilate more?
You’ll feel like you’re on board a yacht.

Because light and durable dinnerware
Is low-class and not debonair,
The china that shatters,
Those slippery platters,
Enliven dining with a jump-scare.

The town shone cleanest in the mist.  
The clerk rushed for his train,
And if he dallied on his course,
The mist would clot to rain.  

Because he didn’t know the time,
He couldn’t find the way.  
The tower clock was crowing six,
But spires lead clerks astray.

Humbler clocks are best for humble folk;
A fob swung by his flank.  
But he’d forgotten to wind his watch,
And so the dial lay blank.

Though shaving with soap is very cheap
The cuts can also run quite deep.  
Be careful round the lips.  
Or gout in scarlet drips.  
Perhaps gel’s price isn’t so steep.

A toggle is so fun to twist
While buttons pivot like a wrist.  
Rotating through a slit
Gives a much snugger fit.  
Toggles swaddle a contortionist.

It’s fun to collect money for passing
Go but ahead hotels are massing.  
Competitors bought
The railroads.  You’re caught!
You can’t outrun landlords by racing.

All phrases that are pleonastic
And too redundant are bombastic.  
Verbose prolixity
Makes plodding poetry,
A sluggish, limping limerick.

A top hat that skims on its brim
And cars built with wheels that don’t spin
Vault from Baltic to Ventnor,
Streets you don’t pay rent for.  
If they land on Boardwalk you win.

Because zippers cruelly pinch the skin
I use velcro for my fastening.  
Those hooks are much too small
To puncture me at all,
Twisting barbs into crooks blunts pins.

City buses bounce and jolt
As though to loosen every bolt.  
The shocks must be missing,
A leak would be hissing.  
Or is it the potholes at fault?

If buses rattle over streets
At least you jounce on comfy seats.  
Imagine a divan
Made from a frying pan
Or griddles cushioned by felt sheets.