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WEEK OF MAY 4

by Jerome Betts

“King Charles paid tribute to America’s special relationship with the UK by giving him the bell from HMS Trump, a WWII submarine which served in the Pacific.”
—Metro

Part of a sub, its life long done,
Arrived one day in Washington.

This naval present from King C.
Was meant to butter up Prez T.,
For though of no outstanding fame,
The boat had shared his comic name.

Or was it, as some wits impute,
A clever way to “bell the coot”?

by Bruce Bennett

“Sanewashing.” Oh, if only! If only we could hear
some speech that really matters, where meaning might appear.
Instead, we get the ranting, the nonsense, and the rage
before we change the channel, the volume, or the page.

by Steven Kent

“US millionaire big-game hunter dies after being crushed by elephants”
—The Guardian

He traveled far and wide for foes to slay,
But who’s the hunter here, and who’s the prey?
Advantage pressed, the pachyderms attacked;
The game’s afoot (it’s underfoot, in fact).

The funeral mood was mournful, mostly grim:
His friends were crushed, though not of course like him.

by Julia Griffin

For Jack, the Walrus Muse

“A very large sea lion is drawing onlookers to a pier popular among both other sea lions and tourists in San Francisco … [T]he name that has stuck is Chonkers … [He] weighs about 1,500 to 2,000 pounds, according to experts. … He is a Steller sea lion.
Sheila Chandor, who has been harbor master at Pier 39 since 1985, said Chonkers had been visiting the pier for about 15 years, but had previously stayed just a day or two at a time. … ‘I sort of hope we don’t end up with more,’ Ms. Chandor said, noting that the wooden floats were built for California sea lions, which weigh up to about 700 pounds.”
—The New York Times

Said Sheila to the Steller:
“Among these hoards of honkers,
You’re quite the fleshy feller:
That’s why we’ve called you ‘Chonkers.’

Alas, you’re much too heavy;
Less like a common otary,
More like a semi-Chevy
(If Chevys can be floatery).

The planks you choose to lie on
(You may find this surprising)
Are made of wood, not iron,
And soon may start capsizing.

We’re happy to permit you
A temporary visit,
But months of you in situ
Is not a visit, is it?

by Paul Lander

Thailand airport bust:
Tortoises under her shirt.
Turtleneck did her in.

by Steven Urquhart Bell

“In sickness and, more likely, in health: Marriage cuts your risk of cancer”
—The Telegraph

I’ve never had a spouse, but I can picture,
From having room- and housemates in the past,
How quick a spouse’s irritating habits
Could grow from small annoyances to vast.

Like snoring, or the way they hog the bedspread,
Or shout the names of others in their sleep,
Then buy you thoughtless gifts to curry favor,
As if that makes it all okay (the creep!).

So even if you cut your risk of cancer,
The risk of other things goes up a ton,
Like fits or strokes or getting executed
For homicide by quilt—so, six of one…

(inspired by a misleading headline)

by Marshall Begel

“Officials will flush 50,000 toilets to flood a Utah lake in order to generate electricity”
—Fortune (The article then reveals that the lake will be flooded with the *equivalent* of 50,000 toilet flushes…)

Our hydro-plant’s turbine lay still
because of the ongoing drought.
We couldn’t make power until
Officials could figure this out.

When Archie, the dam engineer
was sitting at home on the pot,
connections began to appear
that loosened this Gordian knot.

So sure of the system he modeled,
he bolted out into the street.
“Eureka!” he cried as he waddled
though town with his pants at his feet.

He called out, “I have the solution!”
The crowd held a palpable hush.
“We need everyone’s contribution—
so go to your bathrooms and flush!”

The crisis had seemingly ended,
forestalling the city’s decline.
Soon, Archie was duly commended
(but also was given a fine).