While cycling home with a blueberry crop
boxed in my bike bag, I heard the load drop;
I sidelined the bike; got down with a hop;
slowly turned to a sight that made my heart stop.
As swift as a seagull, a man on his board
swung ’round and swooped in on the black lump, unmoored;
reached down with one hand while the wheels spun and roared;
picked it up on the move; laid it down. I was floored!
A two-second ballet improvised on the spot;
a good deed done drama; no video shot
so its story and hero I hereby do jot
to tell him his cool act was full of kind thought.
—JL
This article appears in Sep 5-11, 2013.
Dr. Suess is not happy, he turns in his grave
For your poem is Wobbly and has no tobaze
Bitch and Love poems make me sick, that’s the matter
I wish you would learn some iambic pentameter
rhyming words with one syllable – it is not very hard
like hi, bye and cry – you just sound like a retard
I know that you wish that someone will say
“Get me this author! Get me them right away!”
But they won’t cause you suck and I hope you take note
That Dr. Suess is my hero and you are a goat.
You’re trying to be cute, you’re trying to be clever
When should you write a poem on here? NEVER!