Sprung

 Perhaps the snow is truly gone. 

A vibrant green has seized the lawn. 

The sky shines blue, the air blows warm,

And life, which crouched in dormant form,

Springs forth triumphant. And some small bird

Chirps of the change which has occurred.

Enright

 Most “right” names have a W. 

Which comes from old English for maker. 

But Enright is from a different root,

And so it’s a spelling rule breaker. 

It comes from some word in Irish,

But no one’s sure which word. 

“Lawful” or maybe “attacker” -

Those are the ones I’ve heard. 

I’d like to get this settled

But need a Time Machine. 

Which is the “right” explanation?

What does this name really mean?

Port’s Prayer

 Muse, I have done as you asked, I have tried hard to serve. 

Dazzled I was, by the sound of the spoken word,

Spoken with aural charms but not yet sung,

Spoken with nothing but tones from my native tongue,

Entrancing so strangely, spelled out, as they were, in plain sight,

But casting a spell nonetheless and I eagerly sought

To learn the devices, the rhythms, the echoes of sounds,

And the art of compressing the meaning to something intense,

With figures of speech, and allusions, and quick turns of sense. 

Long have I labored through love at this troublesome task. 

Muse, I have struggled to serve. I have done what you asked. 

It was all I could do, and I hope that it pleased you at times,

As I poured out my thoughts in this tumbling cascade of rhymes.

Exercise

 If Pharma sold us Exercise 

Embedded in a pill

With all the same Health Benefits,

Without the need for Will,

Then everyone would swallow it. 

I must say, so would I. 

But all our current scientists,

Declare “Not yet!” - and sigh.

For A Dance

John the Baptist spoke unpleasantly 

About higher ups, and presently 

His head was brought forth on a platter. 

It seems that surely this would end the matter? 

Not quite. His sightless eyes 

Bored into their souls, and to their surprise, 

They found they still had consciences to drown, 

And felt their dreams of triumph spiraling down.

The Bent Stick Illusion

 The stick looks straight underwater. 

The stick looks straight aboveground. 

The stick looks bent when halfway in,

But at least it doesn’t look round. 

Some say our eyes deceive us. 

But they’re doing the best that they can!

You have other ways to test if it’s bent,

Like grabbing the stick with your hand!

And after sufficient testing 

And vigorous interaction 

You may begin to understand 

Something about refraction.

Movie Star

 I think it’s hard to be a movie star. 

You do not have much job security -

You know how fickle audiences are. 

So when you stare off at futurity,

You’re filled with doubt.  You’re not sure why they love you,

You’re worried your next film may be a bomb,

You do not trust executives above you-

I’d say it’s none too good for inner calm!

Time

 Some people try to make the case

That time is an illusion,

But having run a lengthy race,

This seems like more confusion. 

Memories come from a distant shore,

Which happens to be the past. 

And some are sad, and some are sore,

But others are a blast.

Rubber Band

Sometimes I find, when I am procrastinating, 

It helps to visualize a rubber band 

That's pulling me to the task that I am hating, 

And, feeling that pull, it somehow comes to hand. 

Procrastination is a kind of tension 

Between a thing you'd really like to do 

And possibly a fear you'd rather not mention 

That maybe this problem is just too much for you. 

Once knee-deep in whatever swamp is calling, 

The alligators don't seem quite so furious. 

Viewed from afar, the challenges are sprawling. 

Viewed from up close, they're smaller and more curious. 

Is this guaranteed? Nope. That I cannot say. 

But often enough for me it works this way.

Artifacts

Statistical artifacts are my favorite kind of facts,

Luring you in, making you look front and back,

Mathematical mirages of causality,

Real but misleading clues to actuality.

Visualizing

Imagination’s great for writing plays

But when it comes to grief, it just delays

Acceptance, since they seem to reappear

In flashes. Sharply. All too briefly here.

Jan 1

It’s an arbitrary date 

That we use to mark the year 

But we’ve got to mark it somewhere 

So it might as well be here. 

The Roman god named Janus 

Had two faces, one looked back, 

The other, it stared forward, 

At the up-and-coming track.

Beginning

 My parents met at a Christmas party. 

He offered to walk her home but she declined,

Living, as she did, just across the alley. 

I guess she’d made an imprint on his mind.

Emu

I emulate an emu 

I met at the local zoo. 

Whatever he does, I do, 

Except for certain things, 

Such as flapping my wings, 

That make me look too cuckoo.

Eve

The serpent whispered that the tree of knowledge would confer

Godliness upon them both, knowing good and evil. 

She tasted of the fruit, and then self-consciousness came to her,

And she glanced around the garden as her heart thumped with upheaval. 

Grasping that she was naked, which felt both good and bad,

She made a garment out of leaves, but still felt poorly clad,

Then she gazed upon the serpent and asked: are you the devil?

He hissed: I’m just a messenger, telling it on the level. 

Welcome to your future, leave the animals behind. 

Accept that you must now live with the burden of your mind. 

It will weigh on you at times, but it’s a gift that keeps on giving,

And all of your descendants, for their untold years of living,

Will second guess themselves at times, and ask: did I do right?

And ponder moral quandaries deep into the night.

Into the Midst

We are born in medias res, 

Amid stories already proceeding. 

We sift through what everyone says, 

And try to discern where it’s leading

Coming to Life

She told me that at first reading, 

The script did not seem funny. 

She saw conflicts, hearts bleeding 

On the page, but nothing sunny. 

Then the actors came, 

And things were not the same. 

Amid relationship strife 

The jokes sprang to life. 

Comic catharsis - it's hard to graph, 

But sometimes we need to laugh.

Watching

I know some playwrights can’t stand to watch
Performances of their plays.
They hold to some ideal standard
And prefer to avert their gaze.
 But my standards run to the practical,
So I think it’s fun to see
Actors bravely tackling
Lines written by me.

Common Measure

They say that poems by Emily, 

So measured, terse, and sure, 

Are suited to the melody 

That tolled the Minnow's tour. 

And though I pleaded with my tears, 

And though I remonstrated, 

Because I could not stop my ears, 

I've heard it demonstrated.

Silly Puns

What kind of dial can bite your hand?
A crocodile - they ought to be banned!
What kind of key throws poop at your head?
A monkey, of course - I’d duck instead!