The zero-five hurricane season
Just went on and on for no reason.
Epsilon and zeta,
Expected to peter
Out, had some fun getting their tease on.
The zero-five hurricane season
Just went on and on for no reason.
Epsilon and zeta,
Expected to peter
Out, had some fun getting their tease on.
When gazing past Milky Way stars
Or glancing behind you in cars
That object in view
May be Neptuney blue
Though it seems to be redder than Mars.
A bod with a light social touch
Will not think of drama that much
While people who hate it
And constantly state it
Create more than Starsky and Hutch.
Bod? What's another one-syllable unisex word for a person?
Long ago, in the dark void ethereal
A material quite magisterial
Squeak-popped into view—
It all comes from H2,
From CDs to sea hawks to cereal.
In a move reminiscent of Motson
Today’s pundits come up with lots’n
Lots of cute unbroken
Streaks, but by that token
They’re rather less Holmes and more Watson.
A man of the Great Orinoco
Secured things with systems rococo
But he’d never need
To be fully IDed
Cause no one else would be so loco.
A poem’s a pert piece of cake
That’s ever so much fun to make.
They always taste better for
Sprinklings of metaphor—
Give that salt cellar a shake!