The Year in Poetry

  • Ode To No Shave November

May the winds of November be cold and full of flurry.

For my Beard and my fro will be quite burly.

For I will be bearded, which everyone will like.

I throw pity at the cowards who dare not attempt,

For all the real men will laugh in contempt.

No Shave November.

  • Damn You Megan Fox

It was Paul Savides and I,

Amidst hordes of piercing zombie cries.

Alone and outnumbered in the cliché apocalypse of our time,

The goal was to escape and simply survive.

We dodged, ducked, and shot,

For fear of succumbing to similar rot.

Endless buildings, fields, and plots,

For hours on days until an uninfected spot.

Then upon us is Megan Fox,

Who is human and about to take off her top.

Confused and amazed we stare with a glaze,

Weary from the travel of a world’s endless maze.

Suddenly the undead swarm us and feast on our brains.

All for nothing and barely second base.

  • Sweet Summer

When at last the horrid snow melts in May,

And the lecture halls are empty with no more to say,

I will be home being called by my dog to play,

Out on my porch next to the pond enjoying a nice summer day.

Many will dream of far off places and foreign lands

The swells of California or the soft Florida sands,

European city streets or the mountains of Spain.

Fantastic places I admire and hold no disdain.

Some will strive for fabulous wealth or fame,

Hoping the Hollywood Hills and New York lights covet their name.

All noble ambitions to get away from the infinite mundane.

But push to shove I’ll take the porch and pond with my dog any day.

  • Calvin (To the tune of the Brady Bunch)

His name is Calvin,

Of Putnam third floor

The manliest man in all of Wisconsin

He bikes all round campus in knee deep snow,

Jumps off trees above cliffs, like the locals

Not fearing the water below.

His name is Calvin,

With a girlfriend from Spain,

He scales mountains with no gear but his two hands.

He makes Chuck Norris look weak, like a little sissy

But doesn’t give a damn.

And each day he swims across the north Atlantic

Since the Chippewa is too warm to pose a challenge.

Wrestling Sharks and squids with just a blindfold,

Hands and feet tied to ease his awesome advantage.

That’s our Calvin.

That’s our Calvin.

The manliest man in all of Wisconsin.

  • The Old Man

I met a man who fought in the last Great War.

Riddled with shrapnel among unseen horror.

Without similar friends due to time’s cruel game.

Yet here he was smiling with a spirit unmaimed.

I asked him what it was he knew

If he had any tricks that had kept him true.

Was it a life spent mastering literature?

Or perhaps in the comfort of religious scripture?

Clearly it was something illegal or by prescription.

Or great wealth following an army pension.

He asked “what if?” to the above mentioned.

To each person they might be the key

Yet they simply aren’t such for me.

Complacency requires life’s work to be loved,

Only dictated by the essence that flows in your blood.

When you become I looking down at the path,

You’ll find the best life lacks regret looking back.

Your lasting peace wasn’t found in the material,

In the end you measure victory by raw happiness and ideals.

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