Pressure's on to write two poems / Fooled by a Coupon... Happy Birthday Patrick

FOOLED BY A COUPON

Corporations and Ayn Rand be damned
Power to those that practice the
Gandhian art of boycott
You’ve seen them in Aisle Twenty
the one with the foul smell of
bread oozing preservatives
you’ve seen them in their
virgin white styrofoam package
“Eggland’s Best”
vegetarian-fed hens
and upon each egg of
these force-fed hens
you stamped your initials
in bright red dye
“E B”
egregious bastards
what must your minimum-wage earners
think as they witness this nonsense
holding their water until their mandated
by the union break comes up
I dash all the eggs on a rock outside
making a sunny-side-up in the back yard
where the birds fly free
and help themselves to the water
in the bird bath.





HAPPY BIRTHDAY PATRICK

In another life
a man fair
with shoulderlength black hair
tinged with red from his Viking heritage
stood at the head of the table
jeweled chalice in hand
ravens perched on the rafters
and a fair maiden with Chinese eyes
sat by his side

“I make this toast,” said the lord
looking down the long table,
“to success in hunting the hart and
the hare that roam our green land
to success one day in having two fine sons
with their mother’s eyes
and the decimation of our enemies
whether snake or man.”

He quaffed the strong wine
red as blood
as the fates sang in the choirs on high.
Every wish and more was granted to
Lord Patrick, head of the Kiernan Clan.

*
Walked over to their blue house, up the steep hill to his front door, and Pat let me in.

I read the poem to Pat and the two kids.

Wife Sue was upstairs and later came down to say hello.

They had gone biking this a.m. on the Bike Trail by Everybody's Playground in Horsham, PA.