. Why Can’t I Marry My Pit Bull? Why can’t I marry my pit bull? He’d make an incredible spouse, In spite of the dog hair and doo-doo, He’d always be king in my house. He’d listen whenever I talked to him, Of deceit I would find not a trace, And as long as I didn’t upset him… He wouldn’t chow-down on my face! Why can’t I marry my pit bull? It isn’t as strange as it sounds. He wouldn’t get drunk every Saturday night Or go frolicking off with the hounds. He’d lavish me with much affection, Our union would bring no disgrace, And as long as I didn’t upset him… He wouldn’t chow-down on my face! Why can’t I marry my pit bull? I‘m only demanding my rights. It’s all about charters and freedoms, And winning minority fights. An end to all discrimination, In public we’ll freely embrace, And as long as I never upset him… He’ll never chow-down on my face! . . The Devil Wears Slippers Little by little and bit by bit, He’s slithering up from the deepest pit, And leaving his slithery, slimy sludge, To trickle on the fickle and deposit a smudge. He creeps and seeps, slick as melted butter, With malevolent tentacles in every gutter. His bony-phoney fingers wiggle up the drains On a quest to test all the unawake brains. He’s wealthy and stealthy and a glutton for power, And he’ll sprinkle with a tinkle through the head of your shower, And soak right down into every hair follicle, To seep skin-deep cause he’s very diabolical. You’ll know he’s around as he stinks like kippers, But you may not hear him cause the Devil wears slippers. . . Forever Blue The sky is blue, the leaves are green, This vista has forever been At close of day till break of dawn, And from the day that I was born, For just as long as I remember… January to December. Two plus two is always four, Not a smidgeon less or more. Day is day and night is night, Wrong is wrong and right is right, And no matter where I lie, Down is earth and up is sky. Everything I know is true, Like I am me and you are you, And we are one and one the same, It matters not from where we came. And though some try to re-arrange… These simple truths will never change. He is he and she is she, Father… Mother, made to be. In a union by design, Each in their own way sublime. No matter what we say or do, The sky will be forever blue. . . Norma Pain was born in Liverpool, England and now lives in Parksville, British Columbia, Canada. Thirty of Norma’s poems were published by Dana Literary Society, between 2004 and 2007 and she was twice nominated for the Pushcart Prize by that same on-line poetry site. She self-published a book of rhyme in 2000 called Bulging Assets.