Birthday Plans

My birthday is this Tuesday.
I will spend it recovering from taxes.
Oh, such fun is my birthday!

I will be fifty-nine years old.
Too young to die,
Too old to work at IBM.

My party is not on Tuesday.
My party is this afternoon.
My family celebrates on weekends.

My family is weird that way.
The government moved holidays to Monday,
And my parents misread the memo.

So, today is my party.
Yee haw!
I still won’t get a pony.
Damn.

Maybe Tuesday a pony will arrive.
I’m not holding my breath.
Who can hold their breath for two days?

Watching the Guard

Whenever we’re away,
We thought our dogs would play.
Well, my wife did.
I was pretty sure they snoozed.

Rocky’s in his condo crate,
Behind a little doggie gate,
So, Katie is really the guard.
She has the rest of the house.

This week, I got a PuppyCam,
So Katie got her guard exam.
She failed.
Well, not completely.

Her Mom’s chair was secure.
She watched my couch, for sure.
Anything not between the couch and chair,
Pretty much fair game for invaders.

We were almost back home,
So, Rocky and Katie was still alone.
Then, my wife said,
“Hey! Let’s call her!”

I opened up the app,
Gave the mic a tap,
And said, “Hi, Katie!”
She bounded for the door.

Oops. Now, I feel bad.
My wife is feeling sad.
Well, we’ll be home soon.
Katie started crying.

Well, there goes my heart.
It’s broken apart.
We’re still a half-mile away.
So, I told her, “Soon.”

We got home at last,
She still looked harassed.
I think she got extra food.
I think she forgave us.

We won’t spy anymore,
From outside the door.
It’s caused too much strife.
We’ll just watch the neighbors.

Rocky’s Adventure

I hate to go outside at night.
It’s very spooky after dark.
There’s danger everywhere you look.
I just have to dodge and bark.

We were watching “Wheel of Fortune”,
Someone tried to buy a vowel.
Then my Mom sent me in the back yard,
And I was scooped up by an owl.

We went flying around the cul-de-sac,
We were flying really low.
I guess I was a bit too heavy,
But Mr. Owl wouldn’t let me go.

I felt his beak nibble me,
His next act was very rude.
He spit me back in my yard.
Owls don’t like Mexican food.

Rocky’s Lament

Mom called me in from the yard.
She called me “Chihuahua.”
I think she forgot my name.
How did this happen?

I was told my Grandma
Called dogs by their color.
She never remembered names.
I never met her, but
I know she loved dogs.

Mom loves dogs.
She’s forgetting names.
I wonder if Mom will
Start watching stories?

Homework

I took accounting in college.
It was forty years ago.
Twice as long as Sgt. Pepper.
My knowledge has been fully depreciated.
(At least I remember some terms.)

Now, I have to take it again.
It is as brutal as I recalled.
Perhaps even more brutal,
Because the world discovered QuickBooks,
And our instructor has not.

I love accounting!
Said no one ever.
Well, except for
Some college friends,
Who are all now CPAs.

Perhaps CPA is a warning label,
Not a prestigious title.
People to avoid at parties.
Just sayin’.
(No offense to any CPAs.)

I remembered my CPA friends this week.
They seemed so normal back then.
This is to their credit.
Or perhaps to their debit.
Who the hell knows?

Moving

I’m moving to Bangalore.
If not India, then Singapore.
Somewhere far away from here.
Approximately twelve hours away.

Then, I can sleep during the day.
I can be awake all damn night.
It’s just over there,
I’ll be in sync with everyone else.

I need a nap.

Blocked

I can’t find an idea.
There are nonrights or wrongs.
My mind is fully empty,
Except for 80’s songs.

If I can’t find the words,
Maybe I’ll use emojis instead.
Wow. I have no poetry at all,
And emojis hurt my head.

So, this time tomorrow,
I will take my pen in hand.
I’m sure I will write something.
And then will have it panned.

Land Cruise

Ships are heading back to Europe.
We try to go along for the ride,
With the blue ocean outside.
Transatlantic cruises.
Big fun for everyone.

Sunday, we drove down to Ferris.
It’s a pleasant little drive,
Heading down I-45.
Dairy Queens and Mexican food.
Big fun for everyone.

It’s not exactly a cruise.
It was a jaunt, so to speak.
We weren’t gone a week,
We were home to feed the dogs.
Still, big fun.

Well, miniature big fun.
I need some Vitamin Sea.

Father Long Words

When I was back in college,
I took six long hours of Speech.
One of my classmates loved it,
It was preparing him to preach.

He joined the Seminary.
They gave him room and board.
He learned the secret handshake.
He was consecrated to the Lord.

He loved preaching his homilies.
He never noticed the time go by.
His parishioners would take notice.
His sermons made them cry.

It’s not that they weren’t moving,
Or his chosen words weren’t very strong.
It wasn’t even his repeated subjects.
It’s just that they were bloody long.

They called him “Father Long Words”,
But only behind his back.
They were plotting how to sneak out,
To try and find a snack.

Finally, someone called the Bishop.
They said, “He speaks too long.”
The Bishop said, “The Spirit is within him.”
The Bishop said, “Just play along.”

It took months of complaining.
But the Bishop finally heard.
He came to the Church one Sunday.
Then he said, “That is absurd.”

The Bishop heard Father Long Words,
He dozed off about half-way through.
So, he answered the cries of his people,
After snoring loudly from his pew.

The Bishop had him transferred.
Father Long Words moved around.
He would preach in a different parish,
Until that flock drove him out of town.

Everywhere he preached,
The people listened to him at first.
They listened and they listened,
Until their bladders almost burst.

The Church finally blamed Americans,
For not appreciating the Word.
Father Long Words escaped to Ecuador,
Where they knew he would be heard.

Down in Quito, Father Long Words
Entered the famous Guinness book.
He preached two hundred thirty-seven minutes,
Because that’s just how long it took.

The week after the World’s Record,
The Pope flew in from Rome.
The Church was overflowing.
No parishioners dared stay home.

Father Long Words preached two hours.
He paused for breath, and started further.
That’s when the Pope jumped up and shot him.
The police have called it a Mass murder.

(Bless me, Father, for I have sinned with this poem.)

Goodbye

It’s been a long month,
But only thirty days.
The challenge is over,
We go our separate ways.

As we go into May,
Random thoughts will fly by.
I’ll be writing by chance,
Not because I will try.

Thirty poems is not much,
Not even a book.
Unless you self-publish,
For a Kindle or Nook.