Humorous Poetry by Wayne Lee The Society January 14, 2014 Culture, Humor, Poetry 5 Comments Calpurnia’s Paranoia Beware the Ides of March, she said— if you ignore the signs, you’re dead. But Caesar did not share her dread and shuffled off to work instead. Once on the Senate floor he knew Calpurnia’s portent would prove true, for there among that motley crew was his best friend: Bruté, et tu? From out their togas flashed their knives and cut short mighty Caesar’s life. His last sharp thought was one of strife: I should have listened to my wife. Since then we’ve learned we must obey when premonitions come our way at night or in the light of day: if we don’t heed, our lives we’ll pay. Yes, all ten Roman months have Ides, so if a voice inside says hide, you’d better harken to your bride, avoid the workplace, stay outside. In fact, if I could have my way, I’d make the Ides a holiday. I’d let the people dance and play— but from Acropoli keep away. That said, I guess I’ll take my leave, I’ve no more quips left up my sleeve. The moral is you must believe your spouse—unless her name is Eve. Arnold Decides to Sell his Hummer Gas hit four bucks a gallon last summer and the recession began, which is why Arnold decided to sell his Hummer on eBay. It wasn’t such a bummer as it sounds; it was gas-guzzler good-bye once premium hit four bucks last summer and Arnold lost his job as a plumber. That’s when he saw he had to downsize his life and sell his beloved Hummer, but it wasn’t just about the numbers: Arnold knew it was time to simplify when gas went over four bucks last summer and he realized he had been dumber than the forebrain of a housefly when he signed on the line for his Hummer. Sure, Arnold will be poorer, but humbler and wiser for the ten-speed he’ll buy— all because gas hit four bucks last summer and he decided to sell his Hummer. I Know a Dog Who Thinks He is a Man I know a dog who thinks he is a man. He gets up every morning at five and drives a late-model Volvo sedan. After his usual breakfast of bran muffins, orange juice and coffee, he contrives, as only a dog who thinks he’s a man can contrive, where to pull his caravan that day. Should he visit Spain, the Maldives, Mexico in his late-model sedan? He opens his atlas and makes a plan, then shifts his Volvo into overdrive. Here is a dog who thinks he is a man. To date, he’s been to France and Pakistan, Borneo, Lapland and Tibet. He strives to span the world in his Volvo sedan. Did I mention his name is Caliban? Did I describe the dangers he’s survived? He’s not just a dog who thinks he’s a man: He’s a dog with a late-model sedan. Wayne Lee is a poet living in New Mexico. Featured Image: “Julius Caeser” from Versailles, photo by Carrie OBrien Sibley. Related Post ‘Song of Us’ and Other Poetry by by Amy Foreman Song of Us Face to face, polite and careful, Tentative we were, and prayerful, Neither one of us would dare pull More from this than met the eye. ... Tell the world:FacebookTwitterTumblrPinterestRedditLinkedInEmail 5 Responses Alan W. Jankowski January 14, 2014 Perhaps the dog was smarter than Arnold when he chose the Volvo over the Hummer…or maybe he just listened to his spouse…either way, nice job btw… Cheers, Alan. Reply Shyamal R Swamy January 15, 2014 Love the poem, “Calpurnia’s Paranoia”. It has a pleasant and light tone to it. I especially liked the last two lines of it. Good one. 🙂 Reply Lucie Frost January 15, 2014 Very nice poem, but marred by a mistaken diacritical mark, a vaulting foreignism that overshoots its mark. It should be “Brute” and not “Bruté.” Reply Evan Mantyk January 18, 2014 A comment on these from one of my favorite writers (who I shall leave nameless): “First hilarious, other two weird, overall delightful. “ Reply http://www.wisspurrs.com/ April 30, 2016 There’s nothing like the feeling you get when you discover another written treasure you’ve really been wanting. I found a copy of the Enchanted Forest chronicles 4-in-1 hard back addition at a thriftstore for 46 cents once. I think I did a little dance, myself! Reply Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email.