The Lions' Share

The Copenhagen Zoo did such
An awful, stupid thing,
They should have been prepared
For all the fury it would bring.

They killed a two year old giraffe,
One Marius by name,
And fed him to the lions,
Adding fire to the flame.

They had enough giraffes and so
A “surplus” wasn’t needed.
Despite the pleas of zoos and people,
Boldly, they proceeded.

Poor Marius was sacrificed
And made into a meal,
A horrible decision,
Idiotic and surreal.

Grandpa's Goof (to the tune of "Yankee Doodle")

Grandpa went to nursery school
To fetch his darling grandson;
Put the boy inside his car,
But somehow not the planned one.

Grandpa made a little goof;
Boys had outfits matchin’.
Sound like just a mix-up, not
An evil plan he’s hatchin’.

Why, though did the boy he took
Not recognize a stranger?
Luckily for all, he wasn’t
In what we’d call danger.

Next time, grandpa stays at home
To study grandkids’ faces;
So hopefully, he’ll recognize
The next one he replaces! 

Unpause

I clicked the “pause” on Trumpet Jazz
Before I went to sleep.
I fell into a sweet repose,
My slumber dusky deep.

But suddenly at 3 A.M.
I jolted bolt awake,
The trumpets wafting to my head;
There must be some mistake.

For unbeknownst to me, that button
Seemed to disengage
And Trumpet Jazz was wailing
Like some cats were on the stage.

Technology is helpful but
There oughta be some laws
Preventing what was caused because
My Dell unpaused the “pause.”

Sometimes

Sometimes you’re healthy
And sometimes you’re not
And sometimes you’re grateful
For all that you’ve got.

Sometimes you wish, though,
For what you can’t get
And sometimes you do things
You’ll later regret.

Sometimes you’re happy
And sometimes you’re down
And sometimes a smile is
Replaced with a frown.

Few things have always
Or never attached;
They’re likely as skeeter bites
Staying unscratched.

So I’ll stick with sometimes,
For I can rely
On the wiggle room
Always can never supply.

Riveting

When I’m wearing jeans with rivets,
Which is like a fashion thing,
Does the fact I’m wearing rivets
Make me much more riveting?

I suspect the answer’s equal
To the men all sporting studs.
Sometimes thoughts that feel like firecrackers
Turn out to be duds.

Early

I love to wake up early
To greet the brand-new day.
The streets are calm and quiet,
Setting up for come-what-may.

I cannot quite relate to
Those who loll around in bed.
The morning beckons and there is
So much to do instead.

Though night owls would argue,
Which should come as no surprise,
For me, it's early to my bed
So I can early rise.

Broken

I broke my string of poems-a-day
Because I caught a bug
And felt like someone pulled
From 'neath my feet that famous rug.

I stumbled into bed and slept,
The hours ticking by
And thought to give it just a shot,
But had no strength to try.

It's not like anybody cares
Or even would take note,
Except for me, whose blood contains
Each word I write or wrote.

I'll tie a knot into the string
And hope it's good and strong,
So all my poems are lined up straight,
The way that they belong.