When did the Little

Engine that Wouldn’t replace 

The Little Engine that Could?

~

An Engine that won’t

run even though capable

surely NEEDS to be replaced.

Despite desires

to become a timely scribe,

still the pen falters…

~

 All poets falter

from time to time. Scribing is

easy but it’s hard to rhyme.

Busy days make for

poemless nights, but still we’ll

never write it off.

~

In these crazy times,

how can we tell write from wrong

or distinguish fiend from foe?

Sunlight still breaks through

though you can’t escape the grey

on this cloud-filled day.

~

Long awaited rain

brings the promise of relief

to parched pasture and meadow.

Don can rest assured;

History will regard him a

“Superlative President”.

~

Extraordinary

to be sure as a heartless

wonder and a Russian tool.

If there were a prize

for temper tantrum throwing

who would be some nominees?

~

No Caucus needed!

There will be one clear winner

by the most bigly landslide.

Some say anything

to get their heart’s desire

yet find no satisfaction.

~

When integrity

and desire intersect,

satisfaction can be found.

Circle the wagons!

The bourgeois are revolting!

All peasants man the towers!

~

Royalty, of course,

will collect the benefits.

The peasants will never know.

Just a pile of

manure and a pitchfork is

all he needs to keep his base.

~

Is this what they mean

when they say mushroom farmers

must be great pitchmen?

I thought I saw him,

my fellow poet, but he

took his words and flew away.

~

Again time escapes!

It’s like nailing down jello…

or some other orange fellow.

Need a whisperer

to calm this presidential

bucking bronco down.

~

There is not enough

Xylazine on any farm

to put that nag off his feed!

Stuttering along,

singing off key, Orange Clown

makes a mockery.

~

How foolish must a

Jester be, to misconstrue

ridicule as mirth?

This little piggy

might have to eat crow and cry

on Fox News all the way home.

~

But in his own mind

he fancies he’s Jack Horner

and our nation is his plum.

This rising tide won’t

lift all boats; it’s likely to

sink one leaky ship of state.

~

What hopefully sinks

is this ship of fools disguised

as a ship of state.

So many scams, so

little time – a Trumpian

dilemma Barr none.

~

“Daddy, loan me a

little thing; a time machine

to fool them all, all the time!”

Many roads have we

gone down and sometimes we’ve lost

our way, but never our hope.

~

Hope always remains,

despite whatever evils

have escaped Pandora’s Box.

When integrity

flies out the window, who or

what walks through the door?

~

“Walks” might not quite be

the verb that you’re looking for;

“slinks” or “slithers” are more apt.

Has America

finally reached its tipping point

with its Narcissist-In-Chief?

~

Time will tell if we

have what it takes to reclaim

our stolen ship of state.

Surveying the trees.

Looking for a clue about

what to do. “Drop it,” they said.

~

 “Now wait just a sec!”,

the gymnosperms all exclaimed,

“It’s better to hold on tight!”

Begorrah has come,

tiny ball of brindle fuzz,

to breathe play into their lives.

~

And to decorate

their home for the holidays

with irregular presents.

“Pay no attention”,

the man behind the curtain

cries, “it’s all smoke and mirrors!”

~

Pull back the curtain

and what do you see? One big

mistake staring back at thee.

Why clarify when

obfuscation was the way

he got to be president.

~

Muddying waters

is a favorite tactic

of every bottom feeder.

 Scrambling to find

an unscrambled moment in

which to veg today.

~

I hear Ron Popeil

sells a handy device that

scrambled eggs still in their shells.

Under the weather

seems less like a state of mind

and more like a state of Grace.

~

Sometimes to rise up

we must first lie down and make

space for us and grace.

Are we like the frog

who fails to see he’s in hot

water until it’s too late?

~

Foolish frogs? Fake News!

Even frogs are wise enough

to escape from rising heat.

When your forests burn,

why would you call for aid from

a flaming egomaniac?

~

Let’s say those two walked

into a burning bar – they

would order a big cigar.

What’s it all about,

Trumpie? I guess if only 

fools are kind, you’re very wise.

~

Would that I could say

Trumpie was the only one

or that he was the wisest.

Can we not attempt,

as dry leaves begin to fall,

to plant a greener future?

~

Those who have a soul

of green will do the planting

as dry-leaved souls slowly fall.

Heroes and Villains

abound. On this sacred day

let us honor the heroes.

~

But don’t terrorist

shroud their sins in holy robes

and call themselves the heroes?