Thoughts muddy
I will forsake
And take
Refuge in my study,
Among poets who speak
Words that endure beyond a week.

I shall sit listening to birdsong.
The long
Summer days willimperceptibly turn
Into Autumn. I shall the world spurn
And yearn
For Keat’s Nightingale.

(After reading the biography of Lord Byron)

I don’t like ceremonies, madam:
They steal my precious time.
All men are rough since days of Adam,
And women are sublime.

I sense in you unuttered passion
That waits, like sparkling wine.
In most frank and honest fashion
I dare you: be mine.

I will be ardent, I will care,
I’ll make your life complete.
And then I’ll finish the affair,
Just as I started it.

You’ll call me cruel, reckless, vicious,
You’ll think yourself ill-used,
But even thus, the fruit’s delicious:
You want to be seduced.

All for a glimpse of true desire,
All for the touch of flame.
Then shameful gossip you’ll inspire
And stain your honored name.

You’ll buy a paradise vacation
At an expensive price
Of badly damaged reputation,
But hear my advice:

Your husband’s dull, your day is boring,
Your night is all but sweet.
Inside my…

Every two weeks – a set of limericks.

There once was an old man of Esser,
Whose knowledge grew lesser and lesser.
It at last grew so small,
He knew nothing at all.
And now he’s a college professor.

‘Tis a favorite project of mine:
A new value of pi to assign.
I would fix it at 3,
For it’s simpler, you see,
Than 3 point 1 4 1 5 9.

God’s plan made a hopeful beginning,
But man spoiled his chances by sinning.
We trust that the story
Will end in God’s glory,
But at present the other side’s winning.

Is it me or the nature of money
That’s odd and particularly funny?
‘Cause when I have dough,
It goes quickly, you know,
And seeps out of my pockets like honey.

A flea and a fly in a flue
Were imprisoned, so what could they do?
Said the fly, “Let us…