With Practice

Like murder, is penning a rhyme:

So easy after the first time.

THE WORLD MUST BE SAVED!

THE WORLD MUST BE SAVED!

(from those whose mission

is to save the world)

The March of Time

A boy mourns a pet with a life-span much less than his own;

The boy leaves his parents—he’s grown and he cannot stay put;

His father is buried, his mother is left all alone;

Yes, time marches on...and tramples us all underfoot.

To a Victorious Opponent

It gave you boundless pleasure

To beat poor me

And other rivals bred to lose.

I have no doubt you treasure

That neat brass cup

And payment, spend it as you choose.

But I’ve contracted to measure

Your feet and pumps

For snug new gypsum overshoes.

© Robert Laughlin